Category: Poetry
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8 Sept: for RDP ‘Thumb”
Knots It was the wayshe’d lick her thumb,and pull a knot throughto the end of a thread. It was magical,as if her mouth helda thousand knots under her tongue. And then she’dlook at the permanent groovein her thumbnailengraved by every thread she’d knotted,and she’d sigh a smallharumph soundof mild irritation. Written for RDP “thumb”. Some artwork is…
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8 Sept: Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week The O In Moon A Pearl of a Moon I dreamt I heldreigns on the sky,on that pearl of the moonand its back-lit sky. I dreamt nightwas black and white keys,like the feathersin a magpie’s song. And I dreamt musiccame from a faraway staras it slid cold through…
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7 Sept: Journal of Thoughts from Last Week
A Journal of Thoughts from Last Week The Y In Fly A Meadow of Stars Tell me aboutthe atoms that your wings sharewith the windwith the starsand sunand moon,and tell me aboutwhen you fly in wider and widercircles across the sky … are you my speck of lighta meadow of starsin another world. Some artwork…
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6 Sept: 3 Line Thursday
I cast my soul to the aira heron who lands in a salt reed marshand I stare at the rising moon until morning Written for Ink in Thirds (Three Line Thursday) “wait”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not…
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4 Sept: Announcement
Ink in Thirds 100 Words Winner I am delighted to be one or two winners of August’s Ink in Thirds 100 Words feature. The published magazine story may be read at Ink In Thirds 100 Words, and my original post is available to read here. I encourage anyone with an itch to write to join in and…
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3 Sept: dVerse Poets Quadrille 207
A Recipe for Autumn Autumn spins empty stillness.It’s touched by cold moonlight.Spins the sun at the horizon,and fields to prickly stubble.It’s creeping mist.It’s brooding fog.Its leaves lost to trees, and twigs casting intentions.Autumn is shadowless days,and deep bowls of soup. Written for dVerse Poets, Quadrille #207 “spin” (quadrille is 44-words sans title). Some artwork is created…
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31 August: To Meet In Fragrant Wood
To Meet In Fragrant Wood I.She’s hired, a full day’s work,unfolding chairs from folded, one chair at a time,so that we can sit separately. II.Time goes by, her face fades,her colours leach and bleach and fray.She took her voice with her. III.Winter sky shall be empty of youand I want to keep on grieving –…
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29 August: A Summer Funeral Pyre
That oak tree, the one when I looked up through its branches seemed to fill the sky in June, is now at August’s end. Leaves falling from limb and twig, its earthly-ways departing from their perfect place. Leaves the colour of a young girl’s brown eyes. Leaves blowing in through the open kitchen door, drifting…
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28 August: Ink In Thirds – 100 Words
With Outdoor Seating, Too. We’ve a bakery in the village now. A proper one – bakes their own bread. Cobs. Bloomers. Boules. Baps. It used to be a chip shop. After that a pedicure shop with fish in tubs of water that ate dead skin off feet. Then it was a dry cleaner, although the…
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27 August: The Reality of Real
A Cadralor Poem The Reality of RealI.the stones aren’t real. a palette knife edgesthe cement, chipped paint stone grey matte. II.her shopping bag hangs limp. flaccid. handlehooks over her shoulder. recycled. real plastic. III.he texts women should be sweetlipped andgentle. She replies, “pillock. you’re unreal”. IV.it’s august heat but she wears a woolly scarf.her fiancé…
It's Still Life 