Category: Poetry
-
9 June: No Matter Your Stones
No Matter Your Stones No one tells you that Brighton beach isn’t sand, that it’s pebbled and rolls underfoot. If wading in surf is your pleasure, well, those pebbles will batter your toes and bruise your shins. The weak ankled are easy to spot, their arms flaying the air for balance, their knees wobbling about.…
-
8 June: For K’s Petite Pen
A Loose Spool Here under the treeswhere kiwi-green grassis level as lawn, and crickets sound likedry wooden cogs, midday heatclings to herlike a russet coat. For Petite Pen: 30 words or less. Image is from Vicente Romero Redondo ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
-
7 June: Déjà Vu
Déjà Vu It’s that odd chill you get likewhen you walk blinded into a dark bar like that oneat Place Drouet d’Erlon in Reims. Your eyes don’t adjust, and each stephas a fluorescent strip marking your decline,and the air conditioner is blowing a howl. And all you wanted was a whiskey after dinner. Image: Tristan…
-
6 June: Parallels
Parallels Small delight,a sunset. Its purpose,though brief,to exist,and then vanish. Nothing left behind,but stars.The parallels.The purpose. Perhaps I am a sunset.And you. As well. Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
-
5 June: Is This Tragedy
Is This Tragedy She’s at this land’s edge looking into machete-sharp light.He’s leaving.He’s burning it all down. His ship sails out of her echoesinto a taunting sea. Her heart leaks music. She watches land’s end. Written for K. Hartless Petite Pen at Yardsale of Thoughts, painting by Vincente Romero. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
-
4 June: dVerse Dissonance
Dissonant Weather the rain rainthe tick tickand pitpat off guttersgurgling anddrowning the ground withgushand swill squishas worms float intothe flash of a black bird’s beak for dVerse Poets: Dissonance in Poetry. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
-
3 June: Against a Wall
Against a Wall Two women lean their backsinto the arch of a glass sky,spirits laid bare and free,a painting on a wall. Their bodies are bloomingsoft as silk sun, and they’refilled with irony and life,adorning imperfections. For them, ordinary is weak,and fork-clean. Friendsin-sync, neuro ad neuro.Like a final quit-cigarette. Women always lean backon a voice…
-
2 June: #TLT 3 Line Thursday
My stacked biscuit bonesMy knobbled hickory stickTreading where wings were For Ink In Thirds #TLT Today’s word, which cannot appear in the poem, is: spine ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Image is mine.
-
1 June: Sanctify
Sanctify I remember our last goodbye. A small slip of a tear between us. A kiss on the cheek. Yours felt surprisingly cold for a scorched autumn day, and I remember the blue-eyed sky, the old orchard, apples that fell like red hoofs thundering on the ground, and sunlight was my eternal joy. I have…
-
31 May: Some Days
Some Days A seagull landed on my roof.It looked around and around.Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a lighthouse though. Some days I’m a lighthouse.Some days I’m the sea.Some days I want to drown,and I confuse myself when I float. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Image: Drowned by Vasily Perov, Original Title: Утопленница, date: 1867
It's Still Life 