Category: Poetry
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The Rise and Fall of Yucking
The Rise and Fall of Yucking Bile He’s yucking in the grocery aisles, yucking leeks and yucking kale, and wailing o’Yuck’o at brussels sprouts and beans green as a May spring day, and in the meat aisle, yucking liver, yucking fish, and then he retches at the sight of toilet brushes Twiglet #97…
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Twiglet #94
Mislaid Before we were steps, we were stones. Still. Stones. We carried feet and lemon bitter song, flourished in the dark, sturdy as the sun. We carried skin and bones, and hopes and faith, and a cold candle’s haze. Still. Steps. Laid out flat. Overgrown. We are returned to stone. for Twiglet #94
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Quickly on Blenheim
Quickly on Blenheim Story goes they were caught in a rainstorm. Sudden. Unexpected. Diana’s temple was their cover. Their umbrella. He proposed as the story goes. But he was a politician – nothing goes unscripted. — The rose garden is dry as crackers. Soil is puzzle-poxed. Black spot and cirrhosis. Rain is as scarce as…
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24 August 2018
Originally posted on The Journal: On the Occasion of the Poet’s Being Challenged There’s an air of atheism about a plastic flower, no matter where it is, it just seems wrong. And, I never grocery shop on an empty stomach, which is why I’m at this tiny tired cafe , sitting on a plastic chair…
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Miz Quickly’s Bad Poetry Day
Miz Quickly asked earlier this week, or maybe it was last, that we take a rotten poem and rework it. Improvement is the aim. Well, my eyes are not what they used to be; my aim is off. This is still rotten, but I’ve started dreaming about this sucker, so it’s time to move on.…
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Miz Quickly’s Golden Shovel
MuuMuu Nights It was my mother’s nature, like a thread’s nature is in the eye of a needle, that a summer night meant a muumuu instead of pyjamas. Hides the heat. Hides a sticky back, that sheen of sweat bubblin’ up against the softness in cotton. It lets the sea breeze into your hollows. My…
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Miz Quickly’s Sunday Read
It’s Miz Quickly’s Reading Sunday prompt. I’m going with Armitage. I am in love with Simon Armitage. I love his view of the world, his dark humour and dry wit. A bio is here. He’s the current Oxford Professor of Poetry (Poet Laureate). He’s a poet, artist, musician (member of The Scaremongers) … not exactly…
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Houses for Miz Quickly
The Deconstruction of Four Walls These walls have cracks – it’s all that water. Her rain. Mother Nature loves danger. These walls falling down with our little sins and too thinned skin. Shut the door. Tight. But there’s always a way through, always a song in her river. Miz Quickly Thinks About Houses
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Home with Miz Quickly
Dusty Colour Clouds Dawn, and the neighbour’s cock crows. Restless sleep, seems night never came. I stare at morning’s clouds. Dusty colours. Traffic echoes. Fades. The earth murmurs. Conversation is quiet. Silent. Held in a box for breakfast. And I stare at dusty colour clouds. for Miz Quickly’s Back Home
It's Still Life 