Category: Poetry
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Weatherman Exposed(A Feline Inquiry into Atmospheric Fraud) The cat sits before the telly,tail curled like suspicionas a man in a nice jacket points at a mapcovered in swirls and damp-looking arrows. “This man,” the cat begins,“calls himself a weatherman.Yet the rain continues.The wind howls like cousin Ralph,and my patio is wet.” The Old Woman…
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0407: Journal of SenHai
Nature Never Apologises Senryuthe quiet hillsidesomeone had to say somethingin brilliant red Haikubefore the rain comesthe hillside lights its lanterns …scarlet aloe Written for Susi’s SenHai Saturday . Image from Unsplash. Poetry and prose ©Misky 2006-2026.
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0407: Violet’s Phraseology
A Persistent Syllable not overnight,not immediate,gradual,like a shadow’s slow wrap around a flagpole,like the tap’s persistent syllablecounting out moments. No more today, she says,and closes her book,as if a page holds a boundaryagainst the drip,the drift,the soft unravelof sight. Would you mind, love,chopping the onions?I don’t thinkI should. All the words we hear.All the sounds…
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0207: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: Over The Mole sun rises.tops the trees.crow on a branch. squirrel runsthe fence length,cheeks fullof autumn. rose buds yesterday.opened today. hard to knowif that’s pinkor peach. I heardthere’s a boy, ten, — perhaps hangingover the stream. school childrenfound him — from the footbridgeover the streamthat disappearsundergroundnot far from here. the onewe locals…
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0107: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: Stream of Consciousness (Peak) Early spring.Snow still holding the peaks.I walk into crisp mountain air and there it is again. Ozone.Thin air seems to gather it. Sharp.Metallic.The scent of lightning. Like being a curious child and wondering what a penny tasted like. I found out.Not with my tongue,but somewhere behind my eyes,where…
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3006: The Liturgy
Liturgy for His Return, Cagnes-sur-Mer (Summer 1842 — Where the road remembers him) I. The Hill That Has Grown SteeperI found the hill steeper than I remembered,or else I had brought backless of myself than I meant to. This is what a year does.This is what the navy does.This is what it meansto be carried…
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2906: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: San Francisco Earthquake 1989World Series.Baseball.Late afternoon. It starts with the soundof a heavy lorrydriving by. Lorries never droveon our little narrow lane. Eucalyptus hanging low.Potholed dusty track.Watch for falling rock. Then waves.In the pool. Washed upand over the lawn. The birdsstopped singing. A friend refusedto go backinto her house. Cooked outside.Bathed outside.She…
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2906: The Liturgy
Liturgy for the Year of His Absence(Cagnes-sur-Mer, Winter 1842 — Waiting Becomes a Way of Life) I. The Question That Never Leaves Where is Felreil? Not a question of geography.Not a question of distance.A question of existence:whether the world still holds him,whether the shadows have released him,whether he is still stridingin his English-blackened bootsthrough streets…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Great Digging Mystery(Or: A Cane Corso’s Underground Ambitions) The cat sits on the fence post,high, safe,watching Crymych,the Italian mastiff with the Welsh name,dig a hole in his garden.Deep.Determined.Earth flying like brown bag confetti. The Old Woman appears with her tea.“What’s he doing?” The cat doesn’t look away.“That, Old Woman,is the question of the hour.Is…
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2706: Journal of SenHai (updated)
Heatwave Poetry Senryu each hill wears a hushas if the cold remembersa lullaby’s name Haiku Snow piles in the dawn shadows shift, a long, low hum;world pauses, hearing … and because my ink refuses to put a lid on it … so to speak … I. snow keeps no footprintsuntil someone needs a path II.…
It's Still Life 