Category: Poetry
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I Dream …
I Dream of light streaming like God’s white hair,of places I’ve never been,of wet soil and warm rocks underfoot,of a stone rattling in a boiling pot,of long trails and uncertain journeys,of boundaries and geography,that fiction is sometimes fact,of books without plots,of thoughts without point,of breath and dense air and thirsty fish,of quiet faces and summer…
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An Ekphrastic American Sentence
A fine-haired brush swept the sky – it’s a dark painting that’s dying to flood. This is a 17-syllable “American Sentence” which received benefit of linebreaks. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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A Bit of Silliness
Pasted He says the gravyis way too thick,and it looks likebaby sick.The man has no taste,and it’s such a wasteof perfectly goodschool glue. Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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An Excerpt From a Conversation with Customer Service
You can’t deliver dead flowers to a woman whose husband just died. This is a 17-syllable “American Sentence” which received benefit of linebreaks. Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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for VV’s July Ekphrastic Image Prompt
Summer Songs There’s music in us all. The way a song lightensthe step of hiking boots. Lyrical as an adventure,its new sights and soundsbeyond our narrow path. We waved goodbye to ourmamá and papá, setting offinto golden dust of rising sun.Song took them into bluedrifts of clouds. Beyond us, where music strums morningand breezes tease our earswith ancient…
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The Path Near Tully’s Farm
A Quiet Moment There’s no pomegranate,lotus flower, lion or thrones here.There’s no death or grieving, or lumbering sea.There’s only the quiet you find in emptiness. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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An Ekphrastic Poem
To Weave Wisdom Sing to the museof oak trees,and ospreys,thunder, and open sky. Weave wisdominto poetry, pour lighton poppied fields, andsalt into the sea. Photo by Geran de Klerk on Unsplash #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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Miz Quickly’s Turned Upside Down
Turned Upside Down We all slidetoward the same end, don’t we.Like my oldest, meaning longest, friend. Thirty three years I’ve known him.He was born in a cottage near to where Robert Burns was born. My old friend once said to me,Routine can kill a person. This was after I said,I…
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A Limerick for Fandango’s #FOWC
There once was girl who was ever so pleasantWho had a thing for a unformed lieutenantShe thought it a kissThat would lead her amissBut pregnancy? Hey, wait just a second! Do Limericks Have Titles? An attempt at a limerick for #FOWC. Fandango’s One Word Challenge. Include the word ‘pregnant’. Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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In Response to Twiglet #233
It’s a Biblichor Thing Grandpa’s bookcasewith every book he ever ownedwas left to my motherwhen he died. Bevelled glass doorsand cut crystal knobsas shiny as King John’s ransom. I earned pocket moneydusting those old books,a biblichor scent giving mea pinched headache as if those books had pressedtheir fingerprints on my skull. For Twiglets #233 “Like Fingerprints” Photo by Gabriella…
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