Category: music
-
2701: dVerse Quadrille
The Yellows There was a timewhen time was everywhere.Autumn leaves meanttime for school,time for yellow pencils with rubber tips, and winter meanttime for rain coats,and tripping in yellow rubber bootstwo sizes too big —“Grow into them,” Mum said. Written for dVerse Poets Quadrille #240 (44 words including “Trip”). Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
-
2701: Six Sentence Story
A View on Voyeurism Louise’s kitchen window faces two houses: Alison’s, her husband, a retired podiatrist, and Jean’s — her husband lies face-down between the hydrangeas and the electricity meter. Southeast Ambulance Service stands with him, or rather does not; the defibrillator is put away, as if it’s a game they lost interest in playing.…
-
2401: Senryu-Haiku
I. Senryuhe learns every wordbut not the sky’s wild grammarwe clip him with names Haikucaged in falling lighthis shadow flutters, silentwings remembering II. Senryuhe mimics our wordsbut says nothing of the cagewe built around him Haikurain veils the silenceon a branch, grey feathers dreamforest holds its breath Written for SenHai Saturday . Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
-
2401: Ceramic Truths
Ceramic Truths The sun is splitting the sky open.Night lifts,a spill of milk — dawn is like sleeping with the lights on. My mug; always this one.White, a black penny-farthing.Tivoli. Copenhagen.(Not Rome. Never been.Though I do like pasta.) The chip in the handlefits my thumb like a worry stone,a small devotion,a memory of the morningwhen…
-
Csárdás Part 3
Csárdás (as body-memory) The first stroke of the bowis not music;it is touch.A slow drag,a finger tracing the spineof the room. The sound is dark,sultry with sorrow,the colour of bruised wineand old heat. People close their eyes.Some wounds open.Some hips stir. Then the rhythm snaps!God, it snaps,and the body answersbefore the mind can. Heels strike…
-
2101: Six Sentence Story
Untitled In the church across the road, up a hill too steep for cars when it snows, they gather every evening — always the same few — coats damp, smelling of wool and fish. They sit on worn pews, reciting worn prayers, asking for health, or pardon, or nothing they can name, until twilight and…
-
210125: Journal of Thoughts
This is a reflection inspired by Friedrich Zettl’s post “Spring Greetings from Yunnan” Where Mantra Holds the Mountain(inspired by Spring Greetings from Yunnan) Someone was here.They did not sign their name. They lifted a stone,warm from the palm,and set it downwhere prayer had already learnedthe shape of weather. These mountains never answer,but always listen. Yellow syllables…
-
200125: Six Sentence Story
Dancing with Lions — Part 2 Brigid arrived home from the Six Sentence Café and Bistro in a rainstorm designed by and for fish; the gin was still amusing her, but even so it was an impressively Dickensian squall. She went straight to the kitchen, reached for a frosted mug, dropped in two scoops of…
-
1901: A Gogyohka Poem
A Gogyohka Poem Untitled last night’s snowstill holds the breathof those who never came home.my hand sinks in.its silence begins to burn. I will be herewaiting when the crocus return,and the snow drips like punctuationfrom my wrist. the crocus will risefrom a grave of ice,but I no longer flinchat the sting.I write spring in scars.…
-
1401: dVerse Quadrille
Rainy Smile You ask why I am smiling.This grey dawnis its own kind of gift;the rain’s rhythmon the windowpane is a hymn I understand—the world,in its wet,patient way,offers itself to me again.And I say, yes,thank you. written for dVerse Poets Quadrille #239 “smile” , poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
It's Still Life 