Category: Miz Q
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Day 27
To Leave Or Not To Leave — that is the question Nearly two score ago, as a new immigrant to the UK, I was given Indefinite Leave to Remain. A peculiar phrase that I’m sure confused many non-English speakers. MQ27: Two Opposing Laws ©️ Misky 2019 It’s November Poem a Day month. These…
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Day 26 & 27
Dear Diary. Yesterday two opposing lows one called Hector, the other Storm #7, blew into the garden. Kicked up leaves as if it were child’s play, and before leaving, knocked down the neighbour’s wood slat fence. I think Alison’s gutters are blocked with leaves. There’s a waterfall spilling off the back of her house. And…
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Day 25
My old bones stopped me playing the piano, and nowadays I sleep on my left side – my right hip can’t take the pressure, and sometimes I feel my heart beat fragile as lose silver thread, and every morning I love seeing that single autumn leaf still clinging to its branch. And not all is…
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Day 24
The Trinket Shop in Old Jerusalem When my soul claps joy it’s for the bold brilliance of it all. Of prayer rugs and woven shawls and the frayed fringe knotted into crimson and turquoise, and gold knobs on miniature boxes with brass hinges, and look over there on the brass table, a wooden camel, its…
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Day 22
Silent as Bones The hallway was silent as rain. A soft drizzle silence that soaks through your bones, and you ache for someone to just say, Hello. PB’s Silent Hallway quarrelsome he had a quarrel with an apple. bit it. Biting is not allowed. then he quarrelled with laughter. it was a total…
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20 November 2019
MQ20: I Must Be Mistaken My mother was a kind of wildness. A kind of smoke from a burning bush. Not THE Burning Bush, although as a girl I thought she was. In reality, she was a concussion from banging her head against a brick wall (or so she said, or nearly so). And I…
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Day 19
Quiet as Snowfall This morning I thought about eternity but decided that was too early. It’s often quiet in the forest, so instead I learned about quiet. … clouds that blossom, and swallows that always nest under the eves, and old bees and new honey, and colours so bright that they’re knee-deep with gratitude. Eternity…
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Day 18
I. Those are steep stairs to heaven with no lifts or levers in sight. II. To move between moments like an acorn free-falling to ground. III. And then wind and chill as winter arrived like an aching tooth. IV. An unremembered dream sent mad in dawn’s lingering drizzle. V. Sunlight slowed the storm in my…
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Day 15
MQ15: One for Paris There was an odd return, a twinge, as I stood in Gare de Nord station. Not that it‘s anything at all like Paddington or Union Station, and it wasn’t the tearful embrace of weekend lovers separating, or wives waving off their husbands, neither was it the speedy click and slap of…
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Day 11
A Bite of Blind Cold (or the voice of wind) On a morning like this — with the northeast wind washing off glacial land and singing operatics as intense as a fever and screaming like a whore you’re more than a voice MQ 11 more than a voice and PA Day 10 “blank…
It's Still Life 