Category: Poetic Forms
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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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Prosery: 18 August 2020
Mausoleum Marble My hand is on the oblong flatness of white marble where you sleep. Your death sleep. Your soul’s rest. And I expect the marble to be cold, but it’s not. It’s warm. Though not by the low November sun, perhaps it’s your eternal warmth. I think heaven opened its door when it saw…
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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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A Sestina for Miz Quickly
A Sestina: Rum Dreams The tide revealed more beachthan I’d ever seen. Dark brimmingwaves drinking in sand, and a blackmood of clouds shrouding tearsand chunks of sky. Gusts takingto air our towels. Umbrellas. We two women clamped our knuckled twohands on our straw hats. The beachemptied. Holiday-makers ran, takingshelter in huts roofed with straw brims.A…
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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
It's Still Life 