Category: Poetry
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Saturday’s Stream of (un)Consciousness
My house has a red door. Not sure why I chose red, except that I like red. Nobody else around here does, it seems. Across the street, their front door is white. Next door’s is white. The other side is grey. Next to them is grey. There’s a blue one up the street. And a…
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dVerse Chants
A Slash of Ink that note wasa bee sting. washeated and burnt.was stabbed.was sharp.hung. unstrung. undone.one correction.a turn. returned.again, burnt bya critic’spen. Responding to dVerse Poet’s prompt “The Chant”. I didn’t manage the chant element well, so I’ll not post back a link of their site. I can think of no good reason for people to…
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An Unfinished Symphony Sort-of-Poem
An Unfinished Symphony Sort-of-Poem one pigeon in the kitchen,two magpies on the roof three mudhens and a wren plusfour dogs are barking WOOF,five crows with shiny trinkets,six boys making too much noise,seven girls in pearls and curls dancing to a dog and…
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dVerse Gardening
If There’s One, There’s Ten Every year this airless clayis turned, tilled and seeded.A childbirth of preparationout of winter’s wilderness. Out of January’s bankruptcy. And then May. A shift to blue.The God of Azure has arrived.Lupins. Stocks, and hollyhocks.The air is sweet scented clove. My mother wore that scent. The thistle grows, daggers offoxglove with…
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For Twiglet #235 Folding Paper
Somethings Just Stick, And They’re Not Even Sticky I don’t remember much of 1st grade,except my teacher’s name: Mrs. dePugh. She smelled like chicken soup. I’d giggle when Dad called her Mrs Stinky.That’s why I remember her name, that and the chicken soup smell, and every Monday we took off our socksand shoes, and she’d…
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dVerse Quadrille #131
A Lean In Close In-between those growing-upyears, those kisses deepas a double bass, Bobby Darin pours fromthe jukebox. He’s a dark language I don’t understand. Sounds malicious. Thirstywords soft as a cottonsaxophone. It’s an over-salted melody,and Mac the Knife plays on. Written to prompt at dVerse Poets Quadrille #131: 44 words (sans title) including the word…
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Two American Sentences
Ernest Hemingway said your first line must be undeniable truth. The acer tree sure grew a lot bigger than its label said it would. Playing with American Sentences: 17-syllables. Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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8:10AM – This Is Not A Diary
I Think I Smell Coffee Night’s wickburns darkness until dawn.I wake,and exit these blind contoursinto morning’s perfume. for Poetic Bloomings “Exit” Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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Mirage: Breaking Enjambment Rules
Mirage (an ekphrastic poem) You’re half asleep, and thenYou’re gone A mirage of leavesA rippled slope Water’s mirror still as Trees spread like fingersTwisted curtains, fog Light and bright Entwined on a breeze I laid out a picnic here once In a mirage Breaking enjambment rules. Image from Unsplash. Shared with #APoemADay…
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8 July 2021: Weather Poetry
08.07.21 Weather Poetry Today is bristle-brisk. Woolly wordslaughing and dashing out the door. The wind is breath and gladnessin concentric circles of clouds. A twig taps on the windowpane,it’s an arrhythmic heartbeat. Thunder races between day andnight, like a chariot driven home. Poem Form: Weather poem using pathetic fallacy (see #7). Image is from Public…
It's Still Life 