Category: Poetry
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0801: Tideglass
Tideglass She walks where the sea leaves its broken things,soft glassand sorrow in tangled strings. A letter floats in a rock pool’s sleep.Its ink runs cold,its silence deep. “My heart’s no sum that sense can hold,but it forecasts storms, and it’s turning cold.” She reads,then folds it like a prayer,and leaves it cradledgently there. Written…
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23.12: Journal of Thoughts
The Gift Economy We are not measured by balance sheets,a favour owed, a debt now cleared.The soul keeps no such ledger. We are measured by the cup of watergiven to the rootless seed,by the shelter built for a stranger’s storm,by the word spoken into a silencethat might never answer back. Love, like poetry, is a…
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05.01: A Liturgy for a Bubble
A Liturgy for the Bubble in a Current Once upon a time We gathered at water’s edge,in a jacuzzi between the spokenand the dissolved. We knew when a metaphor was not a metaphor,but a bubble wearing a skin of air, and we spoke to the Brief Republic,the Spinning Borders,the diamond thinning to memory.We called it…
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0401: A Heightened Pass Through the Current
We’re talking Venezuela;it’s coup dressed up as civics,steam lifting words from our mouths like ghoststhat won’t vote,and I am a bubble in the jacuzzi,a brief republic of air, spinning its borders open and shut. “Wasn’t it flat feet that spared Einstein the uniform,” I say, and facts being facts, statements pretending not to ask permission,…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
THE CAT’S TEMPORAL PROTEST(Or: Why Fix What Isn’t Broken) The Old Woman is hanging a new calendar.A gift from the crow.Who stole it. January glows with a photo of a serene garden. The cat watches,tail-tip flicking with skepticism.“Explain,” he says,“the need for a new year.The old one was functional.It had sunbeams.It had sardines.It had that…
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31.12: To You All
Happy New Year and my very best wishes to you all. — Marilyn (Misky) 🜄 Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI. Poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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The Old Woman With No Cat
THE CAT’S HEAVENLY MISTAKE (Or: A Pine-Scented Epiphany) He wakes beneath the tree. A fortress of fir and glitter,dazzled by fairy lightsthat wink like trapped stars.Above him,an angel glows serenely,her gaze fixed somewherebetween wonder and Woolworth’s. “Ah,” he breathes,tail-tip twitching in awe.“So this is the end.I knew I was too goodfor this mortal realm.” He…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
THE CAT EXPLORES HAMLET’S IDEALIST THEORY(Or: To Scream, or Not to Scream—That Is the Observation) “Consider,” the cat’s tail twitches,“Hamlet’s dilemma: ‘To be, or not to be.’But what is ‘to be’if not to be perceived?If I sit in the garden,and no human sees me,am I truly there?Or am I merely…a sublime hypothesis?” The Old Woman…
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16 Dec: Riverbraid – The Liturgy
The Liturgy for Riverbraid (the water that listens) I. The Carrier of TimeNot emerald. Not jade.But river-green — dark as silt and shadow.It carries storieswithout speaking them aloud,shifting with the light:like memory surfacing,then sinking again. Riverbraid does not rushto reveal itself. II. Of Discipline and AttentionThis is not passive watching —it is presence without interference.…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Revenge: A Lesson in Chess(Or: How to Knock Over a Kingdom in Four Moves) The old woman sets the board with care, each piece polished,each square aligned like a promise. “This is a game of strategy,” she says.“Of patience… and grace.” The cat observes from the throne of his favourite chair,one eye open,…
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