Category: ekphrastic
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for May V’Verse
Ophiuchus It’s not quite a nightmare,more like the scariestpart of a funfair. And there’s a snake, namedafter a far away constellation,that moves in and out ofthe measurement of Pi. And that snake’s all smilesand black kettle eyes,and it slings off its lightninglike some ancient ode. And while you’re riding itsshoulder blades into blizzards,you raise up your…
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Day 12 NaPoWriMo 2021
A Haibun: The Virus It was a cold-sleep year. I called them the vinegar and water days. That’s how they tasted. Our tufted hair left uncut, unkempt, and not a sound filled our ears. No cars, no planes, no trains, no siren calls. And there were days, summer mostly, of flowery flattery and reflection, and…
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Day 11 NaPoWriMo 2021
NaPoWriMo: Day 11 – 2 poems: A letter written to a person, and their reply My dearest heroic Mark Antony, I remember the sun so bright that it bleached the days colourless, the ground was wounded, naked and unbending, and it raged at us. We were the ruins of yesterday’s moon. Under what shifting sands…
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Day 10 NaPoWriMo 2021
PA AprPAD “Get “___”, and Napowrimo Day 10: Junk Drawer Poem. Mix a favourite song with the contents of your junk drawer I Got Dragged Away With those wild horses in me,didn’t know they’d drag me away. made a quiet exit with a sleight of hand. one day they’ll pull me back, you said,like a snapped rubber band.…
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Day 9: NaPoWriMo 2021
for I.) dVerse Body and Poetry. My “degradation” is single eye AMD, I. A Slow Degradation It’s hanging silentthat moon.It keeps ignoring you, in the forest,on a hill,shrouded in clouds. I’m blinded by sight. Sightless, butthe truth I…
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Day 8 NaPoWriMo 2021
NaPoWriMo Day 8(written in the style of Spoon River Anthology, E.L. Masters) Misky B. I was born in a clean, bleach-scented hospital after my mother ate a bowl of chilli con carne, and then took a long walk on the sand dunes. I was left in the hospital for a few weeks so my mother…
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Day 6 NaPoWriMo 2021
Quadrille IIa.It’s Just a Matter of Taste Wine, its taste is notparticularly kind.Its nose I cannot fathom.Why someone wouldwish to sipa liquid that tastesof pennies orshades of chamois clothor remind one’s noseof a well-worn saddle.Well, wine, it’s just not for me. Twiglet 221 IIb. It’s Not You So toast me, Roast me with your wine.…
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Day 5 NaPoWriMo 2021
I.The First Morning After That first flight of stairstrod on by 500 years of footfall,stones worn, and sunken likesaddles, shaped to cradle each foot. Her old house holds old memories. She makes her way down the stairs,care always, unsure of the uneven risers, and reaches the hallway wherehis hat and coat always hung, and then she…
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Overlooked Margins
Small Flies and Other Wings There in the overlookedmargins of the windowsill, unpaired wings and websof grey lace and dust aredefused by the sun’s stare. Wings lay mutilated likesome mental disturbance, brushed by darkness andsideslipped in the wake ofa free-hand or brushed breath. They’re gathered into the wetgrasp of a cleaning cloth, and their fragments…
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for Miz Quickly’s Something Different
The Peasant’s Dance What should I do but saycome away. Come away.You, too dear to be absentfrom spring and sun’s heat. Love me with your eyes.I, the lover, and you my lass.This marriage is forty winters that besiege your brow. Look into this glass, look notinto the sun, nor at marblenor gilded monuments, norbrass, nor stone,…
It's Still Life 