Category: Poetic Forms
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22.02.22 The Grave of Arigdor Kara
The Grave of Arigdor Kara He returned to cool soil, and took his own truth with him. A cup of poetry beside his faith. They buried him below a granite slab, now lichen skimmed and shadow roots. The rabbi said his was a short lived bliss. Now strangers mark his passing, walk by his grave.…
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14.02.22 Valentine Quadrille
Remembering an Afternoon Picnic Near Steyning It smells of summer, he says.Greenish. We’re sitting at the edge of a field,our feet soaking in a creek, and we’re eating cheese and chutney sandwiches.Drinking milky tea straight from a flask. And I want this moment to last.Beyond forever. A Quadrille for Valentine’s Day. Photo by Kiriakos Verros on Unsplash. ©Misky…
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13.02.22: dVerse Pentameter
A Forest Creek When the sundraws close and hot,and your legsache to stretch,and when your headburns scarlet heat,who alonewill cool your browbut me. dVerse Pounding the Pentameter. Photo by Michael Chambers on Unsplash. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting #apoemaday on Twitter
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10.02.22 Mother of Dragons
No Gods, No Monsters, Just The Mother of Dragons Is that you, Daenerys Targaryen, in a flame-red frock, and riding the air like a dragon? Is that you burning down the place? What I know of her comes from catching that final episode of Game of Thrones. For eight years, I watched something else. Or…
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10.02.22: dVerse Quadrille
A View From a Window The kitchen windowoverlooked rosebushesthat nibbled at a lattice frame,until a galeblew the whole thing down,and afterwardswe walked the beach,the sea hurling rocks at our feet,and we brought some home,set them where the rosebushesused to grow. Written for dVerse Poets. Quadrille “nibble”. Image WikiArt: Winter view from our kitchen window in Domobranska 8,…
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9.02.22: Thames Walk
SE1 Thames Walk: This city is my familiar. Its lights falling in twinkling pieces across the bridge and through the rain. Side streets. Alleys with ancient names. The sound of my footfall joins the river’s echoes — clattering dishes, cutlery, table-talk, riverside cafés. A couple want a romantic photo, asking politely. He hands me his…
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8.02.22 Line-Spectra
An Odd Line-Spectra The wind has no steady direction today. Atoms bouncing about on a line-spectra. Leaves and debris in an orange orbit; a white dog chasing its tail. Everything is cyclonic-yellow. Even my thoughts. It’s like an itch. The sting of anxiety. The wind jumping at the trees, as they’re heaving off frost and…
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4.02.22: The Russian Girl
The Russian Girl at the Duck Pond There’s too much looking on bright side, she says. She has rod-straight black hair and a Russian accent that makes me nostalgic for Rocky the Flying Squirrel, and Boris and Natasha – not everything was bleak and fatalistic during the Cold War. And she says, lots of people,…
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1.02.22: dVerse Haibun
Winter Digs In The way dark digs itself out of soil, or the way February always shivers as ice settles on the straight lines and arches of its letters, and the way the sunrise swells, red and sore as neglect, and yet we always expect morning to reign over us with hope and generosity .…
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dVerse Quadrille #144
THE SKY IS MIXED WITH BLUE AND BLISS Hello to spring,And my growing soul.Sunshine through the window,And I’m in throws of memory.Your tendrils break the surface,And we hang on tight as you thrashYour way out of winter. Winter, that shiver thatAlways makes me feel alone. dVerse Poets Quadrille #144 “shiver” image is “Breakfast with the Birds”,…
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