Category: Poetry
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Day 24
PA24: A Dialogue Poem I’d like to pick up a delivery, please. Order number (but I can’t recall it so I show her my phone with the SMS) Name? she asks. Yes, I say. (and then correct myself. I must pay closer attention) Which is difficult because there’s a baby. Howling. Its face is tomato…
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Day 24
The Trinket Shop in Old Jerusalem When my soul claps joy it’s for the bold brilliance of it all. Of prayer rugs and woven shawls and the frayed fringe knotted into crimson and turquoise, and gold knobs on miniature boxes with brass hinges, and look over there on the brass table, a wooden camel, its…
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Day 22
Silent as Bones The hallway was silent as rain. A soft drizzle silence that soaks through your bones, and you ache for someone to just say, Hello. PB’s Silent Hallway quarrelsome he had a quarrel with an apple. bit it. Biting is not allowed. then he quarrelled with laughter. it was a total…
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Day 21
The World Was Never So Confusing Last Year. Like in every story this one included a woman of receding beauty. She lived in a modest house, owned a rescue horse that was entirely idle, she never learned to ride a horse, plus a rabbit that was intended for her granny’s cast iron pot but that…
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20 November 2019
MQ20: I Must Be Mistaken My mother was a kind of wildness. A kind of smoke from a burning bush. Not THE Burning Bush, although as a girl I thought she was. In reality, she was a concussion from banging her head against a brick wall (or so she said, or nearly so). And I…
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Day 19
Quiet as Snowfall This morning I thought about eternity but decided that was too early. It’s often quiet in the forest, so instead I learned about quiet. … clouds that blossom, and swallows that always nest under the eves, and old bees and new honey, and colours so bright that they’re knee-deep with gratitude. Eternity…
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Day 18
I. Those are steep stairs to heaven with no lifts or levers in sight. II. To move between moments like an acorn free-falling to ground. III. And then wind and chill as winter arrived like an aching tooth. IV. An unremembered dream sent mad in dawn’s lingering drizzle. V. Sunlight slowed the storm in my…
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Day 15
MQ15: One for Paris There was an odd return, a twinge, as I stood in Gare de Nord station. Not that it‘s anything at all like Paddington or Union Station, and it wasn’t the tearful embrace of weekend lovers separating, or wives waving off their husbands, neither was it the speedy click and slap of…
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Day 13
PA 13 Found Poetry from “The Book of Questions” by P Neruda. PA: a persona poem ©️ Misky 2019 It’s November Poem a Day month. These are 1st drafts
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13 November 2019
Originally posted on The Journal: MQ12 & MQ 13 13 November: I’m at the garden centre. Need a new baking sheet (there’s a cook shop next to the Hebes and the Holly). And I hear Bing Crosby sending good tidings to all – the Christmas grotto is alive with white-haired people lurching about with walking…
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