Category: Poetry
-
For Twiglet #247
A Window Seat at the Café Of course I can, he’s asking if I caneat this entire thing, a bun stuffed fullof stiff whipped cream. He sips his coffee,always black, always hot,and thinks about somethingthat he says is nothing, when I ask. We fall silent. He watches shopperspass the window. I watch a flyon the…
-
Miz Quickly’s Day 6: Sea View
That morning it was blue sky and calm sea, but we trusted you too much. Written to prompt for Miz Quickly’s Day 6: A view of the sea, One Liner Wednesday #1LinerWeds, Photo by Marcus Woodbridge on Unsplash. An American sentence: 17 syllables. Image: storm hitting the lighthouse in Porthcawl UK, Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
-
5 October: dVerse Quadrille #137
On The Beach (draft version) On the beach, a poppy-red stone,it looks angry as a military planet.It’s strewn amongst some revellers’litter, wine bottles and tipsy air.The waves siege against the shore,the sea gurgles its drying fury, and air orbits around our fragrant dust. (all for the sake of a party) for dVerse Quadrille #137 “stones”. Shared…
-
Miz Quickly’s Day 5 “Illustration”
A Vision I watched her standing there,my eyes only seeingher shattered edges glisten. for Miz Quickly’s Day 5 “Illustration” Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
-
The Poeming: A Found Poetry Project
During the month of October, I’m participating in The Poeming Project, a month of Found Poetry, with poems created and sourced from John Grisham’s “The Pelican Brief,” Published by Arrow Books (Penguin Random House UK) in digital format, published in 2010. My project is called Broken Windows, and it’s on Tumblr. I will occasionally update…
-
For Miz Quickly’s Day 4: Landslide
I Saw My Reflection In the snow of a whitewashed mirror,into meadows where the sun keepsits winter eye. In empty spaces, I saw all my wishes strung out like knottedsyllables. Stars. Favourite colours were my reflection. I saw an avalanche ofsecrets, those sweet and sour smells. I’m the taste of moonlight, saltwater, of berries bursting…
-
4 October 2021: The Man on the Bus
Lost in His Own Desert I travelat the front of the bus,just for the view,and my eyeis caught by a manwho seems lostin his own emptydesert. He looksat his hands, and stares.He’s in a place that’snot the same as me,and he picksat his beard and then at his ears,and speaks loudlyinto the seatnext to him.And I wonder,…
-
For Miz Quickly’s Day 3: Abstraction
Composition Number 1 This is running. Flying rain in yourface, and an unfamiliar bird singingto falling leaves, and the rain feelsthe arch of your neck. A drink allalong your spine. But this isn’t me. Composition Number 2 This is a thumb with a nail smoothas a rumour. It knocks on doors,that occasionally aren’t answered.It bleeds.…
-
For Poetic Bloomings Edward Hopper Prompt
A Voyeur’s Glimpse of a Room in New York She rests her finger on a key. G Flat. Admires the Red No. 1 on her nails,and then presses the key. Softly.A single note shivers across the room. She pauses as if some great thoughtpasses her mind, but there isn’t one.And it didn’t. Her thoughts are…
-
October’s VV Image Prompt
A Spare Key I am eight. I’m very grown up.I have my own front door key.Happy birthday, my mum said. Keys are power. Keys hangingheavy on chains, swinginglong from my father’s belt.Keys worn like puzzles, jewellery,like a thinly bared brass finger. No more scratching aroundlike a dog pawing a lost bone,or searching dark secret spotsunder…
It's Still Life 