Category: music
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1002: Six Sentence Story
Passport Interrogation Part 1, Calais, 12 November 1830 The paddle-wheeler pitched us into France; the quay fatigued by tides, received us without welcome, smelling of coal and old salt. Under a dripping lamp the policeman collected our passports like birds he meant to keep, and we surrendered them as one surrenders breath to winter. Felreil,…
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0902: Quadrille 241
In Wilt and Thirst They bring the grave indoors, my dear.A perfumed death-rattlein a vase. Their vivid throats sing a borrowed song.A final, furious blushagainst cold glass— a love note signedin wilt and thirst.Flowers.See us drown in own deep thirst. Written for dVerse Poets, Quadrille #241 Flowers. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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0702: Journal of Thoughts
Senryuwe walk through the rainbut don’t speak of what still clings the leaves understand Haikuraindrops on still leavesthe pond forgets summer’s name each ring fades in peace Written for SenHai Saturday #38 Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI. Poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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0602: Journal of Thoughts
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground. Letting a foxglove grow wild in your garden is a way to kneel. Your dignity is not in your command, but in your constant, devotion to the love that moves the sun and the stars. The Foxglove in My Garden Speckled throat.Bell-tower of the…
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5 Feb: A Thursday Door
Bushboy (Brian Dodd) shares photos of doors, but not just any doors. Spectacular doors from his journeys. Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the door on this. I love doors of all sorts. I’ve trawled through my photos and found a few to share. ©Misky 2022-2026 Shared on X #amwriting @bushboywhotweet and @DAntion
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0402: Journal of Thoughts
The Unraveling Atlas All of it vanished. An atlas of her mind,its cities and borders,quietly disowned by its own map. She tries, but my nameis a syllable without a home, a drift of familiar musicthat slips off the edge of the worldevery time I leave.Or finish a sentence. I learn to search her forgetting.To check…
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0302: Six Sentence Story
The Tidal Deconstruction of a Beach I. (The Taking Tide)The first pull doesn’t cleanse — it draws out the salts of pretending, the bitter, crusted lines worn too long like old salt on skin. It siphons from your marshes without asking, leaves you stinging and unarmoured, wondering what else you’ve been built from. And in…
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Csárdás Part 4
Csárdás — (the heart’s Final fire) First,the bow drags slow.A raw, dusk-coloured moanrising from the fiddle’s belly,pulled from soil olderthan any spoken name. A field at sundown stirs there:the sag of an empty chair,steam rising from a bowl gone cold,a love that lingerslike breath on winter glass. Then, the spark catches. The heart remembers fire.The…
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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.
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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.…
It's Still Life 