Category: Poetic Forms
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17 June: It’s Pronounced [bi″fid-o-bak-tēr´e-um]
![17 June: It’s Pronounced [bi″fid-o-bak-tēr´e-um]](https://misky.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/goodbacteriablue.jpg?w=1024)
Day 17. Write a letter to future generations, urging them to cherish the natural world. To my darling grandchildren, I know your mum loves her sprays, the antibacterial and anti-fungal, floral scented and nose-pinching, but to kill bad bacteria is to kill them all. In your gut. On your skin. In the sink and down…
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6 June: for Poetic Bloomings
The last day of May, and the wind is a concussion. A howling violence. A motorcycle shriek. Leaves snap away from the day. But the wild garlic, its pearly blooms and barreling scent, it refuses intimidation. The rain comes in spines. In bricks. Sharp. A growl from a thousand miles out at sea. And a…
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31 May: Two dVerse
He Doesn’t Know She Eats These Like Sweets He’s crowing on again,eating chilli peppers –it is a manly thing. Can’t bear it when he’s peacocking. He fishes aroundfor another jalapeño.Pops it in. Chews.Sticks his tongue out. Come on, he says, Eat one.Oh, to fawn girliness, or not! For dVerse Quadrille “pepper” (44-words sans title) and Sarah’s…
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26 May: dVerse Quatern
And Once Again It’s … spring-kissed hills of old perfume, mysongster heart’s light as sky’s own blue.Long whisper tunes through cedar trees,Midas torches our sunset dreams. We stood, painting the vales ofspring-kissed hills, of old perfume, myred rose, sweet rose, my deep red loveof vivid green through shining rain. See the horseman without a horse,the…
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23 May: dVerse Haibun Memories
Nap Time My head is sideways on the desk. My arm for a pillow. Eyes closed, says the teacher. I hear the school clock. Narrow white noise without a past tense. I watch the minute hand. It hangs still as the day. 1st grade. It’s nap time. The details are gone, but I remember without…
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21 May: SOCS – A Cadralor Poem
To Gordes, France: A Cadralor Poem I.Listen, and you’ll hear the chiselled skinof buildings. Tight as a drum. Pick upa stick, and beat out a long ago rhythm. II.Listen to moonlight, it’s silver to dream.Meadows of sky stirred by a stick. Thoseold things, those wild things on the move. III.Listen to the slow lines of…
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8 May: A 9 Haibun
A Haibun: About the Number 9 I am a nine. That’s my number. You see if you take my birthdate in single digits and add them together in this order (m+m+d+d+y+y+y+y) it equals 27, and if you add 2+7 it equals 9. Any number times 9 always comes back to 9, like 9×6=54 and 5+4=9.…
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5 May: A dVerse Quadrille
The Garden The garden is mapped,and nature is undone. Supplanted.Keep this. Hmm. Not that. Tug at the weeds, shiftthe soil and sift the silt. Winter’s rooted dark fadesinto tulips and bleeding hearts, as a skylark’s delicate songunwraps a silken colour seed. A quadrille poem (44 words sans title) for dVerse Poets. AI Digital Artwork is created using…
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5 April: Poetic Asides Day 5
That Cat From Glasgow There once was a cat from Glasgow,Whose fur was as white as the snow,She’d purr and she’d play,All through the day,And her owner could never say no! Written for Poetic Asides Day 5. AI Digital Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney
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22 March: dVerse Quadrille #172
THE SHIFT There was once a time whenyou and I knew each others skin,and we were heavy gravityas we shifted between the sheets.We were never solitary shadows,our breath being so close that weknew not if it was yours or mine. For dVerse Poets quadrille #172, “shift”. AI Digital Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems…
It's Still Life 