Category: music
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1804: Journal of SenHai
Senryuno one calls my nameeven the hills keep their thoughtsfolded into mist Haikubare hills drift in fogsoft curves hold the morning stillsilence learns to stay Not all images are created with Midjourney, but all writing is my own original work. ©Misky 2006-2026. Written SenHai Saturday: #48.
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1804: Spring Thoughts
A Cadralor Poem for the Apostle Trees I.not bare anymorebut still mostly rememberingwinter in the wood II.the old lime treedecides, one small leaf at a time,to return to itself III.between old branchesspring lights its smallest candlesand waits for wind IV.the sky moves through itblue caught in the blackened limbslike breath through prayer V.not yet in…
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1404: Six Sentence Story
Part 8: Brigid’s Diary, Night on the Rhône — Half-Light and Wake That night on the river I learned how sound can become a weight, the engine’s pulse settling into my bones until sleep itself felt mechanical. The lanterns shook in their brasses, and the Rhône carried a smell of acrid silt and sulfur embers…
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11.04: Journal of SenHai
Senryu so carefully now even a single ripple feels worth noticing Haiku flamingo bends low one drop disturbs the still pond circles remember Written for SenHai Saturday prompt #47.
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0804: Six Sentence Story
The Steamboat — The First Descent Brigid’s Diary, Episode 06: April 1834 The steamboat called “Le Marsouin” shouldered the Rhône with a relentless thump-thump-thump, its side wheels beating water into obedience while the sound ran the banks like a bruise. The engine breathed deep and hoarse beneath us, heat and hiss rattling the wooden hull…
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0704: Journal of Thoughts
7 April 17:01, 19℃ …says he’s going to lie down on his back for awhile, and so my question is, obviously, Does your back hurt, and he says, No, it’s just this cold you gave me makes me feel old (incidentally that is arse-backwards — he gave it to me first), and in truth we’re…
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0504: A Cantata
A Cantata Speak to meof green, she said. I said —vertigris, crushed mint,a willow’s yawn,sap rising, a celloin a maple’s veins. Hear it — bird-staccato,crow’s low oboe through the breezein polished bark. Breathe it — fern,grass bladesscissoring light, pine resinhumming slow gold. It waitsuntil you press your earto a leaf and listento what is leaving.…
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0404: Journal of SenHai
Persistence Senryu:we rush through our days the stream takes its time insteadand still gets further Haiku:narrow canyon wallswater threads through ancient stone time learns how to flow Written for SenHai Saturday #46 ©Misky 2006-2026. Image from Unsplash.
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0304: ST(R)AY – The Book
ST(R)AY This book is a meeting place. Black-and-white film photographs by Nick Maroudis sit alongside poems by Marilyn Braendeholm, each page holding a small moment of attention. A dog crossing a road. A pause in passing light. A life moving quietly alongside our own. These are not stories of rescue or loss. They are simply…
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0204: Journal of Thoughts
My sister had three of them behind glass. They’d swim, stunned by their own beauty and grandeur, skimming through long blades of green. First they ate all the smaller fish in the tank, and then the three of them set upon each other until only one remained. And there he swam alone for nearly 15-years.…
It's Still Life 