Category: Poetry
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31.12: To You All
Happy New Year and my very best wishes to you all. — Marilyn (Misky) 🜄 Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI. Poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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The Old Woman With No Cat
THE CAT’S HEAVENLY MISTAKE (Or: A Pine-Scented Epiphany) He wakes beneath the tree. A fortress of fir and glitter,dazzled by fairy lightsthat wink like trapped stars.Above him,an angel glows serenely,her gaze fixed somewherebetween wonder and Woolworth’s. “Ah,” he breathes,tail-tip twitching in awe.“So this is the end.I knew I was too goodfor this mortal realm.” He…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
THE CAT EXPLORES HAMLET’S IDEALIST THEORY(Or: To Scream, or Not to Scream—That Is the Observation) “Consider,” the cat’s tail twitches,“Hamlet’s dilemma: ‘To be, or not to be.’But what is ‘to be’if not to be perceived?If I sit in the garden,and no human sees me,am I truly there?Or am I merely…a sublime hypothesis?” The Old Woman…
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16 Dec: Riverbraid – The Liturgy
The Liturgy for Riverbraid (the water that listens) I. The Carrier of TimeNot emerald. Not jade.But river-green — dark as silt and shadow.It carries storieswithout speaking them aloud,shifting with the light:like memory surfacing,then sinking again. Riverbraid does not rushto reveal itself. II. Of Discipline and AttentionThis is not passive watching —it is presence without interference.…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Revenge: A Lesson in Chess(Or: How to Knock Over a Kingdom in Four Moves) The old woman sets the board with care, each piece polished,each square aligned like a promise. “This is a game of strategy,” she says.“Of patience… and grace.” The cat observes from the throne of his favourite chair,one eye open,…
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13.12: Later …
From my path to yours, I send warmth and my best wishes. AI imagery. ©Misky 2006-2025.
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11.12: Driftthaw – The Liturgy
The Liturgy for Driftthaw— The Unhurried Awakening I. Of LukewarmIt arrives not as storm, nor sun,but as a space-heater’s hum against a cold wall,a pigeon bathing in December rain as if it were holy water,a mind fogged by sameness,a heart pacing in a room too small for its dreams.Driftthaw is the colour of a spiritbeginning…
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8.12: Sentinel Trees
Sentinel Trees These areher sentinel trees,watchersof her comingsand her goings This first Sundayof the month,frost holdingthe air lowand steadyas she leansbackinto the white breath of a birch. She, once a childof its slow-growing seed,whispers,tell me a story…one about a young womanwho ran awayto the citybecause she thoughtgreenwasn’t enough. And tell meshe knows nowhow her instinctsmove…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Bedtime Story The Old Woman is tucked beneath quilts,the moon is a sliver in her sleepy tea,and the cat, perched on the duvet,clears his throat. “Once upon a time,” he begins,“there was a… a mouse.A very… small mouse.With… fur.” He pauses.Blinks once.Twice. “And he… um.He… walked…across a… floor.A wooden floor.It was… oak.” Another…
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7.12: Journal of Thoughts
Senryuwe tried to frame itbut the ivy had its sayand rewrote the edge Haikuwhite wood disappearsin the hush of climbing leavestime paints with silence Written for Saturday SenHai image prompt #29. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI. Poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.
It's Still Life 