Category: Journal
-
8 July: The July Diaries
7 July: The Natural History Museum He says, it’s all bones, bones,but where are the dinosaurs and he doesn’t need the toiletbecause he’ll sit on his bum so poo won’t come out and he likes trains that rattle and then asks, what’s a gap. She can name most every dinosaurin the museum and says her…
-
4 July: The July Diaries
He is fascinated by bird poo.pigeon, magpie, and sheep “poopoo”,and wants to poke it with a stick. and that big long one on the pavement isdefinitely dinosaur poop. and then there’s sticks.big sticks are better than cookies. and he wants to know whyhe can’t eat a spider. She says, why won’t the oyster give up…
-
2 July: The July Diaries
1 July: Family is visiting. First time we’ve seen the grandchildren (except for video calls) in 3-years. Forgive me if I don’t read and reply to friends’ posts. Things are rather busy around here. He wants broccoli and cauliflower.And anythingred, he says.Not tomatoes.We shall buy strawberries.And maybe a little red car. She who arrives fullof…
-
24 June: 14-Lines at 13:30
14-lines at 1:30pm HammeringMetal on wood on wood on wood.Good weather forConstructing a guest bed. Razor edge sun,Fresh air andInsects in and out and in, mostly. A bee’s busy as a bee should be inPink stocks on the table.Bouquet from the garden broughtFrom outside inside. In and out and in, and stillOn wood on wood…
-
1 June: Sanctify
Sanctify I remember our last goodbye. A small slip of a tear between us. A kiss on the cheek. Yours felt surprisingly cold for a scorched autumn day, and I remember the blue-eyed sky, the old orchard, apples that fell like red hoofs thundering on the ground, and sunlight was my eternal joy. I have…
-
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,…
-
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
-
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
-
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
-
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