Category: Poetic Forms
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Quadrille #106
It Casts a Cracked Shadow… …those particles. Misfiring. A drum-drumming and atoms thundering. An alto choir between my ears. Then breath-throb stars in black, and half-flash pulses of chaos. And I want for stillness. Migraine. It pinches my wings, and keeps me from rising to meet the day. Happily, I’ve not suffered…
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dVerse Prosery
We’re sat opposite each other. She’s drowning milky foam into her coffee. I’m telling her about this poem, has this imperturbable street. She looks up from her coffee. Stares at me. Yeah, imperturbable. What does it mean, she says. I admit I didn’t know either, so I knocked bits off the word, first “im”, then…
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dVerse Quadrille #105
Slip Sliding There’s a landslip at Viking Bay. First the garage went. That was Sunday. The landowner said he moved his car, thinking the garage might collapse. Monday, the garage, the house, and the fishpond fell into the sea. His neighbour says she’s not going anywhere. for dVerse Quadrille #105 “Slip” ©️ Misky…
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dVerse Haibun
There’s this painting by Piet Mondrain, reminds me of PacMan. Makes my think the whole image should move in robotic jerks and jolts. Sounds effects, too. Tic.Tic.Tic.Tic. Inching left, right, up, down. Tic.Tic.Tic.Tic. Or maybe more like Space Invaders. I played that on a tiny black & white telly at my cousin’s house. He had…
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Quadrille #104
These Mad Mad Days The sun shifts over these mad mad daylight hours. Lovers never long for morning, the sun rising, thirsty as salt. Hot. No use asking why fire is hot. And I keep thinking, I’ll go fishing; that’ll fix all this. Life is an invisible scar. for dVerse Quadrille 104 “Fix”…
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Perfecting A Stare
An American Sentence for Toni, inspired by the Found poem “Stare” below. I. Within our house of stone and wood, down the road we stare. We sit. We stare. II. (variation) Day 65: I Think It’s Wednesday The wall is loosening. We are still closed in. In the house. Of stone. Of wood. Stare…
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AprPAD: Day 29
https://miskybr1.tumblr.com/post/616721791086362624/found-on-29-april/embed Ick – I Hate Rhymie Poems a brush a broom that sweeps the air my god how those eyes could stare so brown so deep alert for fun sleeping away in afternoon sun a walk a run on fields green a dog like that I’ve rarely seen she’s gone she’s gone but I will…
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AprPAD: Day 28
https://miskybr1.tumblr.com/post/616630366389829632/found-on-28-april/embed for PA past or future A Conversation with Great-Grandma I was not much more than 7. I’d sit on her bed, she in her chair. She’d tell me stories of when … . . . when the cow died, she said, and then, mid-sentence, she’d pinch another grey whisker between her thumb and index…
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AprPAD: Day 26
https://miskybr1.tumblr.com/post/616450132471365632/found-on-26-april/embed As Changeable as Monday Spring sunshine and then a hard frost. A seasonal split. Green shoots perish in the night, running toward life with arms up, sleeveless and gloved, and embalmed in dry rainless gutters. It’s such a cruel thing, sudden change. It must feel like hell. Flower delivery today for my neighbour whose…
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AprPAD: Day 25
https://miskybr1.tumblr.com/post/616373852284518400/found-on-25-april/embed Writing After James Schuyler’s “Hymn to Life” – He and I in a Square I watch the day go by through the kitchen window. A yellow car drives by as I wash the breakfast dishes. I keep walking by things that need doing. Clean the cooker grates, I tell myself, and then I…
It's Still Life 