Category: dVerse
-
23 February: for dVerse Poets
First kiss. At 10, I suppose. His name. Craig. His father made dentures for a living. Craig gave me a ring, the colour of healthy gums. The engagement was short-lived. He kissed me. Slid his hand over my stomach. Then upward. So I punched him. In the nose. And I kept the ring. Written for dVerse…
-
7 February: dVerse Quadrille
Up There It’s an albino moon, white toothed, sleepy grinned. Pricking at stars as they’re born and burn away, old ones plunge and die. We watch them carry our hearts, wrack and ruin our second thoughts, and that moon’s staring button-eyed at us while we weep. Written for dVerse Quadrille 44-words, sans title, “stars”. AI Digital…
-
25 January: dVerse Grandmothers
Granny Eunice Granny says she’ll give mea dish of tonguesif the screen door slams. The screen door slams. Fly paper swingsand snags sunny yellowin the summer breeze. Bacon’s fryingin curls and shrinks.Spits. The flame jumps. Granny’s arms are dressedin skin and flour.Butter on her cold fingers. It’s a blessing to a baker, she says. Scones.…
-
24 January: dVerse Quadrille
Winter Garden Winter’s moon leavesa slick of ice, agonybedded on the leaves. Touched by silence. The garden shinesstiff as starched sheets. The roses buriedwhere music has gone quiet. Summer was once herewith secret perfumes thatflew the air on iced wings. for dVerse Poets, Quadrille #168 “Ice”. AI Digital Art is mine and created using Midjourney’s bot (v4).…
-
20 January: A Dream Again
A Dream Again Like a feather, or the grey shadeof a tree. I’m falling into myself,dropped and tossed into a dream. And I’m telling my sister thatlife’s all or nothing. And she’s quoting scripture at me,as if she’s a chip off an angel, saying Jesus fed them bread and fishes. And I’m thinking is the…
-
18 January: dVerse Winter
A Black Bare Twig I am whiteness and droning drear,woolly and wet,a slipped cold mask,a drumming ear. Huddle ’round your woodburners,seek that whirring fanof warmth against your skin. Garb your hat and scarf and socks.I am the ice underfoot,your skates cutand track my spine, your children embed me with laughter.I am a dark galaxy,winter’s chariot.Gather…
-
17 January: dVerse Prosery (Flash Fiction)
Stitched Up We measured moody clouds by hand widths, and when we bored ourselves of that, we played cops and robbers. We pointed fingers at each other, and then blew smoke off our fingertips. You made siren sounds. I was the bad guy. It was always me falling down dead. And Mum sat on the…
-
13 January: dVerse Found Poetry
Her Cabbage Patch Windermere peaks are a perfect place to cry, I tell her. And she is. We’re eating breakfast, and can I hear the clock tick as haired seeds of dandelions fly, curl on itself, soft as lip balm. We are not poor, but in these times, we live as though we are, so…
-
10 January: “Bold” Quadrille #44
Croak He keeps skinny tadpoles in a pickle jar, in there wiggling around, ink black, and legless. He plucked them from a bell loud pond where hundreds of them were born, again and again. And a big frog with palpable grievance boldly croaks. And croaks. Written for De’s dVerse Poets, Quadrille 44 “Bold”. AI Digital…
-
4 January: dVerse Listening
Chesapeake Shores In the elsewhere of brightness and dark, rumble strip clouds are filled with quick talons and wings, and the sea-rippled calm from this serial view is not lost on the silence of God. Written for dVerse Poets. AI Digital Art: created using Midjourney’s bot (v4) Image and poem ©Misky 2023. Shared on Twitter #amwriting
It's Still Life 