Category: Poetic Bloomings
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Poetic Bloomings “Hindsight”
Some Things Just Stick In Your Head The only time I was allowed to go barefootwas when I took a bath. Had something to dowith catching worms. Mum wouldn’t allow it. Doubt I’d have caught worms from troddingon pavement, but Mum was raised on a farm,and some stuff just sticks in your head forever. My…
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Poetic Blooming: Her Codex
Her Codex Truly, I’d say eat whatever she cooksbecause one day she’ll be gone.She and her recipes, written downin disintegrating leather-bound books,pages held in-situ with rubber bands,recipes written in foreign words, in quick short back-slanting strokes, in measurements that use her mother-in-law’s chipped teacup,and another measurement oftenreferred to as a scant knife edge,and kneading dough…
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Poetic Bloomings’ What’s Your Line
Le Consulat de Belgique His arms were too shortto proceed his belly.His desk, wooden,and soaked in the aromaof spiced rum. Mahogany,I think, nearly black ashis moods were often.The Belgium consulate.I was his secretary. for Poetic Bloomings “What’s Your Line” © Misky 2020. Image from WikiCommons CC:00
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Rewritten Character Study
Above and Below (Rewritten) A blackbird lands on the ground. It looks,not at the ground, but at the grass, andhears a worm slipping through the roots. But not just roots but musk scents of grubsand worms and maggots, a peaceful rotripe as perfume. But not just perfume. It’s a tune strumming through thatched roots,and a…
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Seeds for Poetic Bloomings
Seeds I.By winter,we pitched penniesat the wall.By summer,we ate watermelon,sat cross-legged,and spat seedsat the compost pile. Watermelons grewlike weedsin our garden. II.Years ago,a seedwas plantedin my head that occasional hungerwas foodfor the soul, and povertywas wealth. Nevertheless,I was still a wolfhowling at the door. for Poetic Bloomings “Planting a Seed” © Misky 2020
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Poetic Bloomings Character Study
A View Above From Below (Draft) A blackbird lands on the ground. It looks,not at the ground, but at the grass, andhears a worm slipping through the roots. Not roots, but slipping in the deep scent of grubs and worms and maggots, in rottingpeace that swims and ripens into loam from where I hear my…
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A Rondine
Nevertheless Nevertheless, this valley’s a secretthat’s lost its key. Locked. Forgotten.There’s a river down there but youcan’t see it. It’s down below the soil,and not a spot of it can be seen fromwhere I stand. But it’s a riverbed,nevertheless. I’d like to up and vanish like that. Do without myself in muchthe same way as…
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An Epulaeryu Poem
An Epulaeryu: It’s a Food Poem slightly underdone duck breast baby vegetables polenta with cilantro bring me a fork! An Epulaeryu is a poem dedicated to food. The syllable constriction is 7.5.7.3.1 4PB Image from Unsplash CC:00
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for PB’s Movie Quotes
“They call me Mister Tibbs.” ~In the Heat of the Night (1967) A little boy came running, so delighted to see me. Grandpa! Grandpa! he smiled. The time had come to grow my hair longer, and never to leave home without lipstick on. Photo by Kasia Serbin on Unsplash. Prompted by Poetic Bloomings
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3 July 2020 The Beach
A Summer Storm Feels like winter is in the air,as wind howls hard off the sea.Gales piping through in trees,and sheep have turned, facingnorth. See the grass, it’s level,flat, and not a soul walks onthe beach. Not a foot to fall,no kites to reach the sky.No way can this be July. PB 3 July The…
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