Category: Poetic Forms
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dVerse Double Quadrille #116
Impossibly Out of Reach One sunny Sunday, his grandad gave him50-pence for the church offering.He pocketed it.And that’s where it stayed.Until Friday.Which was laundry day.He took the coin from the pocketof his Sunday best trousers,and as he reached for his pink plastic piggy bank,the coin slipped from his fingersand fell between the floorboards.A flash of…
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dVerse Quadrille #114
Magnetised the push and pullthe up and downthe rise and fallthe kiss the slapthe pain the cheerthe deafened earthe birth the deathtears for us berefta prayer a curseto hurt to heallonely daysand hearts grief-stricken dVerse Quadrille #114 “Magnet” © Misky 2020
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dVerse Gloomy Ballads
Where Music Stops She stood in the lee of heavy grief,as if lashed to a mast on a craggy reef.Sirens howled in her ear,and a month lingered to a year. Swallowed, some say, as she bedded gloom.Took herself to her darkened room.Took her heart, and buried it deep,and then fell into a long cold sleep.…
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dVerse Quadrille #113
THE SKY, THE LIGHT, MY BRAMBLES Octoberis autumn’s landscape. Early,its dark blanket covers night. Slowly,comes morning sky. A flaming jewel.Rolling ruby rivers of light. I woke,and sat on the edge of day, watchedthe black kettle night shy away. Shadows lift.Away my down-trodden brambles. Dverse Quadrille “blanklet” 44 words sans title. © Misky 2020
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for dVerse: A Vatic Poem
A Long Story About Nothing Maybe what I say seems commonplace, but rules are a self-audit, and I hardly suppose that any confession is too late, or that a germ of good might never growMaybe no one speaks with purpose,no single sentence is a human progressAnd I hardly suppose this life is a long story…
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for dVerse Poets: A Haibun
Vanessa Redgrave is Cleopatra with her face white as winter, and her neck exhausted from the weight of thoughts, and she begins from a place of rooted pain, a rattling thunder, and then she speaks — … his face was as the heavensand therein stuck a sun and moonwhich kept their courseand lighted the earth…
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An Ekphrasis Poem
Maakt Niets Uit – (It Does Not Matter) She asks me,what happens when someonesteals your face. Do I become a mirror?Am I more than pious dust,or exotic bric-a-brac? Am I a drip-tray colourto coax froman ancient alchemist’s text? This woman, she doesn’tmind that she’s made of crippled clay,that there’s a hole in her neck. It’s…
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A Haibun for dVerse Poets
A Haibun Poem for dVerse Poets Dust swirled behind the car and I remember thinking, I want a long white lace veil when I get married. I was 14. The road ahead was silent and empty, the woods thickly green rising up from earth’s heart, stumps like elbows and trees tall as time waiting by…
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dVerse Quadrille #110
Scrawling with Red Ink I’m writing with red ink.Shouldn’t do.It’s bad luck.Bloody ends badly. Look.Each letter slants right, like a drunk with spirits sloshingunder his skill. His keel’slisting. Speaksinsplinteredsyllables. Then falls on his bum ina scrawling scarlet haze. for dVerse Quadrille #110 “Bum” © Misky 2020 Featured image Banksy.
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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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