Category: Poetry
-
Once Upon 200 Moons
Once Upon 200 Moons it’s all to play for, Boris, kipper-brandishing, from a farm in Somerset. He will love bomb us with hanging baskets, and milkshake tax plans, turn on the spending taps on the hottest day ever recorded, and find Amelia Earhart. Truth is an art. This is a Found poem constructed…
-
for dVerse Prosery #2
Untitled Prosery #2 I dreamt that I was naked inside some blackness of thick night, floating amongst the rarest of silken clouds. I was cream on milk. Quicksilver folded in some ancient language of smoke and waft and alter fire. I drifted with constellations, crossed swords with Orion, and placed myself into every childhood. Blame…
-
PB’s Day 19
“Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire.” – by Gustav Mahler I CAN’T THINK OF MUCH BETTER I still love Campbell’s Tomato Soup and a grilled cheese sandwich with white bread that dissolves into compressed paste against your front teeth, and mayonnaise that deconstructs into its basic elements of oil…
-
Miz Quickly’s Day 18
Root and Stock There was the wash of the cold sea, two fish meet on winter’s snowrib. He is her key. She is his luck. Under sun, under hoe, in a garden treasured so. 3 cups of wine, 3 grandchildren, our cups filled with joy. And a melody brushes the autumn grain, wind-flowers dance, night…
-
Miz Quickly’s Day 17
In the Style of Rain Rain Go Away III. Pin this pain to a rain cloud Then fly, oh fly away, I say. II. Hump. Chump. Eyes open. Who’s on a knee. On his penny. Such a hump. Chump. Eyes open. I. Skip a beat. Skip three more. Skip my heart. I’m on the floor.…
-
for Miz Quickly’s 13 and 16 July Prompts
THE WINTER YEARS Where there was sight, there was sight. Sight beyond middle, beyond molten sound. Sight beyond the sound of pages from a book in my hand. Where night is as far as yesterday. Sight that darkens shadows like sunspots or rank blotches. Sight, keep me tethered, if only, for tomorrow. ©️…
-
dVerse Quadrille #83
HERE COMES THE SUN All this white before my eyes, this clear clot above the sky. Heat rolls in, warms the cold bones of morning. It massages its salve in me, a weightless shadowed flicker. Morning believes in its own dreams, and it whispers… Here comes the sun. for dVerse Quadrille #83 “Sun”…
-
for PB: 13 July Scary Moment
SNEAKY SNAKES Sneaky snakey black rubber hose laying in the summer sun. It slipped away into the climbing rose when my foot set hard upon it. PB’s Memoir Project 13 July “A Scary Moment” ©️ Misky 2019
-
for Twiglet 134 & Miz Quickly
Room 100.1 I knock on the door and enter a cramped, stale room, an office desk centred, the sun burning through the window. Summer heat can annoy the best of us. A heavy set man rises from the desk, his shadow fills the space where I stand — Hello, I say. I try to sound…
-
A Poem In the Style of Mary Oliver
A Poem In the Style of Mary Oliver I’ve never been one to stand under the midday sun, but here I am, noon, and my shadow has disappeared below my feet, and I’m watching ants chase summer. Rain falls through the leaves, and I feel thunder underfoot. The ants, pause. I pause. We taste the…