Category: Poetry
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19 November 2020
That Tomato Red Chevy That car was work boots.Creaked like knees forcedinto bending at 6 in the morning,and rolled around cornerslike a tomato. It was windblownwith the windows rolled down.The bumper hung half off, clatteringas it sang wind chime songsto the pavement. Nothing ever happened in that carthat needed our confessing, but wewrapped around each…
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dVerse Eyes
Age Related One day these eyeswill be boarded up windows,only seeing the grey sideof sunspots.They water and drift on a halfhidden stain across a viewfrom where each day begins. dVerse “Eyes” © Misky 2020 Image Flickr Commons
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dVerse Double Quadrille #116
Impossibly Out of Reach One sunny Sunday, his grandad gave him50-pence for the church offering.He pocketed it.And that’s where it stayed.Until Friday.Which was laundry day.He took the coin from the pocketof his Sunday best trousers,and as he reached for his pink plastic piggy bank,the coin slipped from his fingersand fell between the floorboards.A flash of…
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dVerse Witnesses #2
A Taste of Village Life The village hall just renewed the notice board. Free. Needs clean but structure sound: 2 seater sofa.Free. Garage storage rack. Unused.Free. Brand new iron. electric kettle. 2 slot toaster.Free. Set of cricket wickets with bails.Free. Empty helium tank.Free for collection: 38 mugsFree: 1/2 tin matte emulsion colour Botanical ExtractAny tree…
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dVerse Witness
In the Same Way an Algebraic Equation Can A morning walk can empty my brain.I am walking my customary route, past the oak tree, its acorns rollingunderfoot like marbled pebbles ona Sussex beach. Oh how I love delicate batter fried codand sharp stinging sea air in my lungs. Holly berries, pressed into bursts of red,and now…
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dVerse Prosery
The Drowning of Capel Celyn A village gone. Into dark stillness that roots it to its soil. It lies weed-hung with the fish. It is too deep to feel the weight of a wave, or to hear a lamb’s bleat. It sleeps where it died in a purple silt. The store. The church. The butchery…
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Twiglet #201 and dVerse Quadrille
When I Was 10 Summer’s the shortest season.Flew by. I flew by. Out the door. Mum shouting, “Don’t slam the screen door!” I’d chase distance. Up hills.A curse on my long bones. I’d walk the old silver mine’s rusted tracks,and my freedom knew happiness. dVerse Quadrille “Happiness” and Twiglet #201 “Weedy Rail Tracks” © Misky…
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02.11.20
Most of November’s Challenge poems are being posted on a temporary page made for purpose at https://30daypad.wordpress.com Follow the blog if you’d like to be notified of new poems.
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For VV’s November Issue
A Different Sky I love airships and blimps.Huge. As big as a dinosaur.They fly past one another,and steal each other’s lightas their hinged wings spendthe air like copper pennies. I love the sound of rain poundingthe tarpaulin above my head. I love to fly with the rising sun,love to hear the wind shrill andrushing into…
It's Still Life 