Category: journal
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21 May: 2 Cellos and a Storm
The Storm Every time the windchatters through the fence,voices mutter in the roof tiles.It’s the whim of sky. Its grip and shineof sulking rain are scented byfar off dry grass. And thenthat moment that vibrates ones bones, incandescentlightning, and basso-pitchedthunder as if heaven rolled over.So dark, so fluid it fills my ears, and I think, […]
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13 May: A Little Conversation
A Little Conversation I am sitting on the patio .A cup of coffee. Morning sun. A magpie is on the fence, talking to me. I don’t know what he’s saying, but something ‘s playing on his mind. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Photo by Lenstravelier on Unsplash
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9 May: Captured Moment
And I ask him, Why are you sweeping the grass? And he says, Because I can’t find the rake. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash
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3 May
The ferns not quite unfurled. The hostas cupped open for rain yet to come. Two apple trees – one sans blossom, one a white blizzard of buzzing bees. The photo is mine. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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2 May: It’s Monday
It’s MondayA day of laundrySlack clotheslines Candour of dying flowersPetalless tulipswith swollen heads My head seems neverquiet or silent, perhapsbecause it’s Monday ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Image Seamstresses at Atelier Paquin, Paris, by Isaac Lazarus Israëls 19c WikiArt
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11.03.22 It All Started with that Guy at the Portrait Gallery
It All Started with that Guy at the Portrait Gallery You’re a most peculiar child,that’s what Dad would say as he pumpedfuel into the Ford Falcon’s gas tank,and I’d inhale clouds of fumes encirclingmy head straight and deep into my lungs.I thought it was a most hypnotic scent.Almost as good as Mum’s cinnamon rolls. Same […]
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04.03.22 First Daffodil Opened
The Rain Has Gone . . . see the daffodils,morning light shining through them. And there it is.Yellow. Bright as an egg yolk.The colour of ripe wheat. El Dorado. Daffodils are cherubs.Spring lambs. A child’s bright face.Tell us a story! Tell us a story! It’s a colour somewhere betweena blossom and a breeze. Yellow was […]
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7.02.22: Gargoyle
Supermarket Gargoyles Right next to the anti-viralhand gel by the automaticopening doors, standsan elderly security guard. He’s a poker faced manin a buttoned-up uniform,and a shirt bleached whiteand starch-stiffened. Dressed like that, I expecthim to do something whenmy shopping trolly sets offthe security alarm, but no, he just stands there, grim as cold porridge, stony […]
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19.01.22 We Call It Home
We Call It Home This place,this English coastwhere cliffs jut out bonesand prehistoric coloursoversleep in silt, and wherestorm-carved boulders mimicheroes’ heads,and alternate worldslive beneath the sheenof sea, here in this place wherewind cycles into ditchand fells, andstars top the sky likespilt milk. This place is home. Inspired by Linda Hill’s Prompt 18 January #JusJoJan “cycle” Photo by Ana Paula […]
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A Stroll and a Bitch
A Stroll and A Bitch It’s back to the Victorian era.We meet up with friendsfor a “Covid-safe” stroll and a bitch about everything. I’m singing at a funeral tomorrow, she says, and can you believe it, my kid is 2-years old today. Two years locked down with a baby. I can’t breathe if I think […]
It's Still Life 