Category: ekphrastic
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17 May: In A Glass with Brueghel the Younger
In A Glass She stood by the door,bleak days that castshadowless moods, and she watched him pour his persona into a glass. This life she chose.This pernicious toast. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Image: The Drunkard on An Eggby Pieter Brueghel the Younger, CO:00 public domain.
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On Visual Verse
I’m delighted that The Woman Wore Red is published by Visual Verse this month. If you have spare minute, pop on over for a read. Every month, Visual Verse offers a new image for ekphrastic inspiration, one hour to write 50-500 words (prose or poetry). The editorial staff select 100 of their favourites from the submissions. It’s fun. It’s…
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for Twiglet #272
In Her Own Shadow The old woman I’m becomingis pestering me. It’s leaped on me the wayJuly does. There’s nothing gradualabout it. Written for Twiglet #272 “Shadows of Silence”. ©Misky 2022. Image WikiArt: Head of an Old Peasant Woman with White Cap by Vincent van Gogh, 1884; Nuenen, Netherlands. Public Domain. Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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31.03.22: I Could Only Think
I Could Only Think … this unlovable land wheregardens are a summer thing, where snow shimmersand the air finds freedom and our language was inparsnips and potatoes,beetroot with its leaves boiled ‘til soft and eatenwith a vinegar’s mother, and I remember the skywas open and wise, neverclosing in on my world as we set maps…
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28.03.22: Child Labour
The Breaker Boys This is the way of it,black dust andgritty lungs and spending daysbent to other mindsand other lives. Time is an early old age,emblazoned on their spine. There’s a constant coughlike wild dogsat ones throat, and they fall to pieces,like a stoneunder a hammer. Photo US Library of Congress, Flickr Commons, Public Domain, US…
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dVerse Haibun Monday
A View of the Cherry Tree in Moonlight The cherry tree is kissed by moonlight, it wakes as I sleep, as silver slides between its limbs, as my heart gently knocks against my ribs like uneven stairs. It wakes me from soundlessness and breathing, and even in first hours after midnight, I see moonbeams spread…
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Hunters in the Snow: Bare Thorns
Hunters in the Snow: The Bare Thorns February is a windthat cuts through the bare thornsof the rose bushes. Never mind the humof small black gnats that possessthe air. . Better to remembera rose’s scent. Your father’s voice.What makes you laugh. And I set my pen aside and listened – because I am the hunter’s…
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03.03.22 dVerse Ekphrastic Poetry
A Poem Inspired By Joseph Farquharson’s Painting A Slip Against the Wind The sky is whiteas pork fat, the heatherburnt by cold.A mother and three bairninch steps against the wind.March on, their mother says,March until it’s spring.A mother and three bairnare a slip against the wind. for dVerse Poets Ekphrastic March prompt. Featured painting is by Joseph…
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25.02.22: A Poem After “Two Old Ones Eating Soup” by Goya
A Poem After “Two Old Ones Eating Soup” by Goya Held like a leash in his hand,grasped fingers at the expenseof pain and joints. Then a turn of a spoon,and golden broth from bone and stonestouches his lips like a warm kiss. The wonders of triumphfrom a thin clear broth. A bowl of soupon this…
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22.2.22: It’s TwoTwoTwoTwo Two Day
Catch Of The Day That fish on crushed icedoesn’t knowits beauty. Doesn’t knowits silver-plated shine. It thinks there’s no gloryin a tail’s slow sway,or lazying throughsea grass and ropey kelp. Where’s the gloryfor a fish on crushed icewhen you’rethe catch of the day. Photo by Jakub Kapusnak on Unsplash ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting #apoemaday on Twitter
It's Still Life 