Category: Poetry
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24.04 The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and Unsolicited Commentary The cat sprawls across the kitchen table—one paw possessively pinningthe old woman’s latest poem. It is a tiny, furry editor-in-chiefwith ruthless tasteand questionable credentials. “Hmmm,” it muses,scratching a commainto the margin with one claw.“It’s Oxford commasin this house.” The old woman arches an eyebrow,then adds a stanzaabout the cat’s…
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23.04 The Old Woman With No Cat
Part II. LAST RITES FOR THE SHATTERED VASE(a personification ceremony conducted in four movements) I. EULOGY BY THE WORM you heldnot just water,but the pausebefore the spill. now you are1,001 portalsto elsewhere—each edgea newmouth,each curvea stoppedclock. (it sprinkles the shards with compost) II. CROW’S FINAL BLESSING he places the laughing-water shardatop the pile: let this…
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22.04: dVerse Quadrille
Frequencies a shift—not silence,but the spacebetween breathand recognition. the air rearranges,atoms in soft agreement,alignment not forcedbut found. chaos:not disorder,but the echoof everythinghappeningall at once—a harmonytoo vastto sing,but feltunder the skin. to alteris to listenuntil the momentbecomes new. Written for dVerse Poets: Quadrille #222 “alter”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Asks What Day It Is – (a kitchen inquiry) PAD: Day 21 the robin(possibly ghost,possibly just vibing)pauses mid-worm,cocks its head,and recites: “today is yesterday’s dinnerplus tomorrow’s to-do listdivided by the cat’s nap schedule.” the old womansquints at the calendar—a relic smudged with coffee ringsand one bloodstain(jam—probably). “so… monday?” the crowdrops a stolen…
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21.04 The Old Woman With No Cat
THE BOOK OF ALEPH ON BROKEN VASESfrom The Book of Spades, Chapter 11: Fragments & Their Afterlives journey’s end…the old woman’s favourite vase—a constellation nowof Swedish porcelain shards—is catalogued thusly: Item #7.3.1Vase (blue and white, chipped rim).Shattered by: cat(motive: gravitational poetry).Current state: 1,022 fragments (minimum).See also: kintsugi,if you believebroken thingsdeservegoldmore thanair. Beneath, the worm has…
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20.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Scholarly Cat (or, No Matter How You Deny It, The Universe Gives You Cats) [I. THE DENIAL] the old womanwith no catshakes her shiny spadeat the neighbour’s tabby— “I have no cat!I want no cat!” the cat,entirely unbothered,stretches acrossthe Lesser Periwinklelike a poetreclining on laurels, blinks slowly—then quotes The Odyssey(translated, of…
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19.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
About The Old Woman Without a Cat The Old Woman and Fridge Archaeology(a Kitchen Liturgy) the old womanpries open the fridge— the cat perchedon her shoulderlike a pirate’s parrot, both squintingat the thing in the crisper:shrivelled, possibly sentient,glowing faintlylike a forgotten godfrom a discount pantheon. is it a potatoor a prophecy? the cat bats itwith…
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18.4: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Responds to Weirdness – (Kitchen Liturgy in a Minor Key) the cat surveys the wreckage—the aftermath of the old woman’s latest experiment: a waffle iron etched with runesand muttering Latin conjugations under its breath;a blender full of salt,sarcasm,and the ghost of Tuesday’s regret;a spoon caught in an existential spin cycle. “this,” the cat…
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17.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
About The Old Woman Without a Cat The Old Woman Receives Three Cheers(A Kitchen Liturgy) the old womancatches her wordsin her cupped palms— a warmthshe can’t quite name,like finding a forgotten cookiein the pocketof last winter’s coat. the neighbor’s cat(now a licensed emotion translator)purrs the messageinto Morse code: dot dot dash—you. matter. comma. the crow,ever…
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15.04: Poem-a-Day Challenge
Sestina for the Cliffs at Beachy Head Here, where the chalk cliffs meet the endless blue,I walk to shed the weight of thought, to standlike wind-struck grass—alive, yet barely touched.The lighthouse spins its scarlet warning—brightagainst the tide’s slow gnaw, the edge’s creed:what falls—will rise again in salt and light. No prayer but this: the gulls’…
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