Category: Poetic Bloomings
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Poetic Bloomings: 31 July
Summer Sunset We picked these last days from the bones of summer, said farewell to seagulls wheeling on the wind. We’ll miss their cry that swells on waves, their flight is a handsome turn, as sunlight falls into a death by water. written for Poetic Bloomings Summer Entertainment: Day 31
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Poetic Bloomings: 27 July
Fades to Black A length of wind can run chase through summer. Limestone to sand, and blow white hot, then tempered pink into a shade that sinks the sun, chills the day, and sets to hide its crimson fragrance into the horizon. And palmed like magic, it fades to black. © Misky 2016, for…
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Poetic Bloomings: 26 July
Clouds I watched fugitive clouds chased across the sky. The wind was arresting. for Poetic Bloomings, 26 July
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Poetic Bloomings: 25 July
Between Here and There The beach sings white. Children heard. Cries deferred to birds above, or the joyous crack of rock candy between teeth. On the rise, a breeze. Such sweet relief. We are in a momentary peacetime. Between bad news. Half way to a tide’s ebb. Half way to melting. In the grasp of…
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Poetic Bloomings: 24 July
Here to Stay These are immortal days where my memories keep vigil to passing years. Memory-etched scenes, as if drawn from favourite books — forever loved, forever comforting, they become old friends — a kindness for resting bones. And in my late afternoons, I stretch into a feline dream, a divine summer sleep, that’s as…
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Poetic Bloomings: 23 July
The Summer of 1966 Another regimented summer, idle hands (my mother warned), so I was never idle for fear the devil’d find me, and for eight weeks I whittled sticks, dipped matches into wax, waterproofed them, protected, and stored them in Kodak film roll cases. I sang to campfires that breathed hotter than July heat,…
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Poetic Bloomings: 22 July
Gazing Into Puddles It’s July, and I’m star gazing at black seeds in watermelon. Gazing at rainbow sprinkles on ice cream. I count miles — 1 (one-hundred), 2 (one-hundred) … between lightning and thunder. I count fireflies; so unaware that they’ll dim and go black as those watermelon seeds. I’m gazing at miles between us.…
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Poetic Bloomings: 20 July
Wednesday, 20 July I listened to the timbre of crows last night — fighting over scraps. I chased them off into the drizzle. Into the trees. I can’t forgive their charred voices. I can’t forgive the end of peace. © Misky 2016 for Poetic Bloomings: “Last Days“
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Poetic Bloomings: 18 July
In My Room This room is a dainty whim. Its north light dimmed through lacy sheers. And against the wall an old soft chair, covered in ivy green — it holds the corner with photos, frames, books boxed and scattered, and a stuffed lizard with a bored grin. A room for dust held tight, here…
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Poetic Bloomings: 17 July
“I know I am but Summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year” ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay On the Hard Points of Pebbles Feels almost prehistoric now, it was that long ago. I was paid a pittance for watering the neighbour’s gardens. Every evening I spilled the coolness of…
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