Category: Poetic Forms
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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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23.1.22 Go Dog Go Cafe Haibun
It’s a sort of mid-January middling-damp. It’s drizzly. Dwet. Grey. Dwippy. Like cornflake-sog in a puddle of tepid milk. It’s January when people feel entitled to leave the dwishes and coffee cups on the twable for some other dweeb on a dwet day to clear away. And I’ve been thinking about that word ‘grumpy’ –…
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22.1.22: Herniated Disks and Other Mischiefs
To Hell ‘n Back It’s a herniated disk, you see. Nope, I didn’t do a thing. It just happened. Sitting on a chair, eating dinner. Then pop. And I can’t sleep. I’m trying not to move. Every twitch, stabs. And I notice that the street light licks the bedroom wall a silent grey, a smeared…
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Two Elevenie Poems
Two Elevenie Poems SnowWindswept fieldsBlindsiding the skyYesterday in a snowbankBuried BuriedInto depthsWhite scrubbed whiteAlleys of bowing birchWait Poem form: Elevenie. Click thumbnail for constraints. © Misky 2021. Image is from Unsplash.
It's Still Life 