Category: ekphrastic
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15.02.22 That Old Chestnut
That Old Chestnut It’s still gnarly-bare,no leaves yeton that old chestnut tree. It’s old.It’s arbitrary.Bang-bang out of order, like a belligerent judge,a rigid thought growing wherenothing near it is its equal. There’s nothing symmetrical about it.Hit by lightning years ago.Blew sprinters and branches aboutas if hit by God’s own fist. But that tree’s dying.Slowly.Bleedingfrom its…
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11.02.22 GoDogGo Cafe Book Titles
This Thing Between Us Her hands are softand her fingers sticky. A pear for dessert.The sweetness lingers. The sight of her smile,like a tattoo, never leaves you. And the smells of smokeis body heat, I think. And every night she walks her cat.Alone. Alone with that cat. She says the sun is too hot,and the…
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Twiglet #264
A Still Life of a Winter’s Night The fireplace is lit, its flamedancing with the surfaceof the window. A candlestiff and still on the table, with the last heel from a loaf,dried onions and cheesewith a sip of sweet wine. No need to whisper thatthe cupboard is bare, orthat the empty knocking isnot the beat…
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dVerse Quadrille #144
THE SKY IS MIXED WITH BLUE AND BLISS Hello to spring,And my growing soul.Sunshine through the window,And I’m in throws of memory.Your tendrils break the surface,And we hang on tight as you thrashYour way out of winter. Winter, that shiver thatAlways makes me feel alone. dVerse Poets Quadrille #144 “shiver” image is “Breakfast with the Birds”,…
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Day 9: On Ice
On Ice Fool that I am,to take to the fields.Trotting poniesand rushing streams. Follow my heart ontosullied paths, muddiedwith slips, slidesand jeopardies. I’m antsy for warmth,long sunny days, butfool that I am, dressedby cloudless skies. Fickle January,and its perfect ice. Written for Miz Quickly’s Day 9: Errors, Photo © Cecilia Mary Gunther and used with permission with grateful thanks. Poem ©Misky…
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The Man Who Sits on a Step at the Duck Pond
The Man Who Sits on a Step at the Duck Pond I’ve yet to see that man smile, a faceset like thick-sawn wood. He movesonly rarely so as to not appear dead. He says everything in this little townis one of two things – either alive ordead. Yet he’s never happier in life than when…
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Two Elevenie Poems
Two Elevenie Poems SnowWindswept fieldsBlindsiding the skyYesterday in a snowbankBuried BuriedInto depthsWhite scrubbed whiteAlleys of bowing birchWait Poem form: Elevenie. Click thumbnail for constraints. © Misky 2021. Image is from Unsplash.
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Ekphrastic: Saint on the Half-Hinged Shingle
The Half-Hinged Shingle in Hunters in the Snow He’s a saint, and dances like a tree frog, heedless merriment as it’s raining on his head, and the cold mist always riseslike morning prayers to heaven. His is a small story of simple words, drawn on an half-hinged shingleabove the tavern door. He’s a godly soul,…
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Miz Quickly’s 16 December: Two Titled Pieces
I.Anatomy of a Wave – On Crests of a Buoyant Hand Take yourself to the water’s edge,watch a wave bend and swell.Hear the bubbles and fizz, subtleand shining like mossy green. That curl of an uncertain geometry floating into a mindless fall,into the shape of hard steel bliss,into those cool silver-ish tones.…
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Miz Quickly’s 12 December 2021
All The Dragons Are Slain It’s a small view, a leaded window on sloped roofs heavy with snow, and there’s a lightness of white filling the room. He’s ashen cold, the same as yesterday, winter on winter dipping deeper into blankets. Our poet, he’ll not fight the world today, his walking stick idles against the…
It's Still Life 