Category: Poetry
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Here
Here I belong to thesesmall latitudes andlongitudes.This is home.My familiar horizon.An easy refreshment.I have a house with its ownover-the-lane neighbours.It’s tame here.It’s real.Occasionally monotonous.And I’ve decidedthat this is as faras I wish to go. Written to prompt: Fandango’s One Word Challenge (“include Real”) Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay and #FOWC on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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29 July: 20 Pieces of a Poem
Piece #3: The One With Five Senses He comes from a family that rations affection, not that they’re cold or unfeeling, and he always assumes he’s loved even though it’s not put in so many words. There’s no diabetes from sweetness, that’s for sure, and they all possess a firm grip, a baker’s grip, no…
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One-Liner Wednesday
Old rain falls on a heron – it looks down, and farther on, beyond the airless tangle around its legs. For One-Liner Wednesday. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay and #1linerWeds on Twitter ©Misky 2021 Photo by Karo Kujanpaa on Unsplash
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for Twiglet #237
Puppet Dance Puppet toy,boy embodied on a string. Almost human, his hop and dance.Mimicked madness as the lights dim and the strings fall off. Such a pale and wan display,a wordless apparition as he runs wild off the stage. It’s a swarm in a storm. Written for Twiglet #237 ‘Wooden Puppet’. Photo by Jose Francisco Morales on Unsplash. Shared with #APoemADay…
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dVerse Quadrille #132
Roll On After the icicles thawed,and damp left the basementthrough open windows,I remember wondering what happened to winter,I’ve no clear memories of it. Sometimes I’m like a stream,not knowing where I’ve come fromor where I’m going. I justroll on. Quadrille for dVerse Poets, including the word ‘stream‘. Photo by Fabrice Villard on Unsplash . Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter …
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Seventeen Syllables and Some Prose
The clipped wings of prayers still rise through the morning mist and falling raindrops. It is no effort to stay, rooted in the moon’s clatter, in this oily dusk, but when all parts of me are worn out, I’ll be freed to dissolve in the lipped waves of some spacious stream, gone from the green of…
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24 July 2021: This Is Not a Diary #SoCS
Stream of Consciousness Saturday, 24 July I’m in the gardenbefore the rain starts again.Cutting rosesfor the kitchen windowsill, and a fistful of parsley. Cod with parsley sauce tonight.Mum’s old vase for the roses,tarnished, blueish, needs a polish. But not now. The parsley is washed.Sand and soil settlein the washbowl, not many insects,and no spray used…
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Here We Nap
Here Where the Heat Is Here, where heat seepsthrough stones,and shadows wedgeinto the hours, and air hangs spareand paper thin,here we napin near-dead sleep. I’ve recycled the phrase near-dead sleep because that’s the way a nap feels in 33.6° heat. Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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22 July: 20 Pieces of a Poem
Piece #2: The One That’s Preposterous He thinks of his mum when he eatssliced white bread, the sort that stickson the back of your front teeth. Ida, that’s his mum’s name. If she hada middle name, he didn’t know it.Probably didn’t much care. A namewouldn’t change his side of the view. Ida baked a loaf…
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20 July: 20 Pieces of a Poem
Piece 1: The One with Similes and Metaphors When the midday sun is winter low, and lovers cast a single shadow, and he is like twice-frozen snow, and she’s milk and honey melting, and love, that’s her secret, and desire is his, and they wonder – will they, won’t they, fit together like a perfect…
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