Category: #FOWC
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16 March: FOWC Observe
An Observation at Café de Flore Shivering in the sununder a loft of cloud. Hat. Coat. And a scarf. I’m drinking coffee,my feet in the snow. This I did.This day.Last year. Written for fandango’s one word challenge: observe. AI Digital Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney
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15 March: Sussex Dialect
Into the Bracken There once was a man from otherwheres,Who right boffled drank a bittle on dare.He overget the breachy quite well,But into a tye of brakes he fell,And no twit or oration did we spare. Sussex dialect translated into familiarityoration – to make a fussotherwheres – elsewhereoverget – to overtakebittle – a bowl of…
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12 March: Rough Sleeping Since
Sleeping Rough Ever Since It was a Saturday, and Adam was having one of those stream of consciousness thingies. Like a dream, but not. He’d returned to paradise. Had a small blot hole right on the beach. Maybe a little caravan, or an RV in need of cheap repair, like in those advertisements that fill…
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11 March: FOWC The Toothbrush
Yes, Perhaps So I’m visiting my mother. I wake in a strange bed,and make my way down the hallto wash my face. There next to the sinkis my toothbrush topped witha pea-size drop of toothpaste. Mum’s reliving my childhood. When I was a kid, she did this, too.I assumed she was being frugal.Maybe it was…
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9 March: For FOWC
A Woman in the Image Of There’s a woman in townwho wears her face as a disguise.An old age sort of mask, that’spart of her game. It’s a second existence, like a volcano. She goes rushing about everywhere.Arguing and shouting at walls.Her surreptitious ways crackle fromher throat like an ache in your ear. She can…
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8 March: Rattling Old Bones
Rattling Old Bones Children,noisy as crows calling out,wound up tight, andlet lose on dinosaur bones. The museum echoeswith a rattle of words,they rise then settlelike dust on the floor. Take the train. Bring the kids. Half-price! A young motherwith three small childrenpauses, meditates ona spectrum of colour from the beveled windows.A rainbow has spilled its…
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7 March: FOWC “Cook”
Who’s Cooking When I walk to the shopsalong the footpath, downby the winter-filled stream,I look to where the pub is, scaffolding on the frontageand tables still on the lawn,the carpark weedy and wild,and I stare up at the pub roof, the sky falling on the beamsand rafters, and I wonderwho was cooking that nightwhen the…
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22 February: for FOWC – Home
Under Red Roof Tiles The roof has red tiles.They’d be happier bakingin sun, Spain or Morocco,but instead they’re herein February. Mist and cold. The doors are white woodwith brass knobs, bevelledglass. The floor waxed pine.Apple trees, bare right now.Plums, not one fruit last year. This is my house. My home,although a home is anywhere.But it…
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20 February: FOWC Height
When Chimps Flew the Sky We used to play a game,back when there were 9 planets,and Pluto wasn’t just a dog, when chimpanzees flew in space, back when nobody knewhow many galaxies were up there,but we believed in Martians. And as kids, we said things like name ten kinds of clouds,or name the parts of…
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11 February 2023: Deconstructed Lunch
Déconstruit Sandwich You are what you eat, that’s what Mama said. So I’m the rear quarter of a pig. Smoked. Even though I quit long ago. An emulsion of egg and oil. I’m a brined, sliced cucumber. Bubbling starter and flour, and a slow ferment. Trust my mama to slick guilt on a ham and…
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