Category: music
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1706: Everywhere Poems
Witness A blue vein ran throughmy grandmother’s hand, blue as a horizon. As a childI’d glance awayfrom its small tentacle and look insteadinto her eyes, which on Mondaywere green and by Fridaywere blue. Dad’s eyeswere like that. Mum would jokethey were evil and he’d glance upand grin. My eyes are brown. Except when they’re green.Green…
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1606: Brigid’s Diary – A Six
Part 13, Brigid’s Diary: The Abbey of Saint-Roman Beaucaire, July 1836, Camouflage The Beaucaire Fair moved like the Rhône in flood, bodies and bargains braiding into one slow current, and Felreil folding his foreignness into the merchants’ black coats and polished leather while quick fingers rehearsed their small rebellions at the height of a purse.…
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1506: Journal of Thoughts
Yellow Prophet This branchholds him long enough to sing.He ignites the air with brightness —a promise.A practice. Even the leaveslean in. Written for Sadje’s What Do You See #345. Image credit; Mark Olsen. Poem ©Misky 2006-2026.
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1406: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: Sunday Afternoon Mr Whippyis in the neighbourhood. Pop Goes the Weaselechoes from red brick,through open windows. Ice cream weatherhas returned. The sun is shining again. The tune drifts on,turning corners,finding gardens, opening old summers. By the timeit fades, the street is sweeterthan before. Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a…
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1306: Journal of SenHai
Senryuthe puddle wins outevery grand adventure startswith dirty feet Haikuyoung elephant playsevery puddle is certainit is an ocean Written for Susi’s SenHai Saturday #56 ©Misky 2006-2026.
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1206: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: The Heatwave The neighbours assemble on Facebook.That house with no lawnmower.Number 41, someone says,with the dog.That barks. Dogs bark,another says. I’d like to complainabout feral cats — that comment isanonymous. The pink peonies are as big a soup bowls. Foxgloves toweringbeneath the apple trees. He sits with one leg crossed,scrolling Facebook,reading me…
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1106: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: A Waiting Wind scrubbing curry stainsfrom the kitchen sink, I remembered Flensburg. we stayed a week —waiting for wind. books.walks.the Baltic. Funny, how many thingsin lifewon’t move until something invisiblearrives. Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a starting point and follow wherever attention leads. It’s — go for a walk…
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1006: dVerse Unpunctuated
Sad Winter Skin When I was youngI wanted a yellow bedroom I wanted sunny We boastedof evergreenand a climate wetterthan a bath Dad painted although he was mostlya postman and an artist but he didn’t do bedroomsSo mum painted it washable mattedripped from the tin Fresh Egg Yolk I liked naming paint colours It’s too…
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1006: Journal of Thoughts
A Friend: Our Forty Year Stitch Forty years. We have worn groovesinto each other’s silences. Whole conversationsonce livedbetween cigarettes,coffee cups,the long turningof daylight. Now he slipstoward somewhere else, then surfaces againat the sound of my voice. I do not reachto hold him here. I sit beside the bed,straighten the blanket,pass him water. Outside,someone closes a…
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0906: Journal of Thoughts
The Hand Is Enough A hand of sweet scents.A posy.Pearly pink. Silly girl,you’re dreaming. The hand is enough. A kindnesswithout witness. A giftwithout debt — and she rolled overand dreamtshe wasasleep. Written for What Do You See #344. Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
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