Category: Poetry
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18 August: The Goatherd (a possible series)
I. The Goatherd (Draft) He has a gathering of coins in one pocket,courage in the other, a cat that chases rats,and he lives with his goats in a metal hut. His wife looks older than her age. They talkabout a poor harvest, and eat fried peanuts.He wonders who was first to fry a peanut. She…
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16 August: Transitions
A Little Brouhaha All about me, they lean,dahlias the size of dinner plates.It’s a feast of decanted pinksmacked sidewise, andstrong armed in a breeze. The air twists on scents of fermenting apples, wasps behaving like angry drunks,and all their unhinged buzzingis a premonition of autumn. Written for dVerse “Transitions” and RDP “Brouhaha” (in reference to angry, buzzing wasps) and Fandango’s…
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16 August: dVerse Prosery
Vanished She’s learning about sound barriers at school. Sound. Speed. Aeroplanes. Red lights on the left. Green lights on the right. Like Christmas lanterns flashing on steel wings. “Flash. Flash. Flash,” she calls out to the hundreds of faces up there. People flying through rain coloured clouds, over roads and Tobermory-colour houses. She watches the…
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15 August: A Contemporary Sonnet
The August House For years, it was our August house,perched on a yellow sand beach,ringed by wild roses and tall grasses. Breezes drew low taffeta tones fromsummer blooms, as Dad slapped paintat canvas before the sky collapsed. There were easels, and pigments,smell of turpentine, wet swimsuits,and lemon cake in the afternoon. That was the summer…
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14 August: A Modern Sonnet (edited)
Note: I wasn’t happy with this, so I’ve tinkered with the stanzas. Only Ourselves, A Modern Sonnet Someone said heaven is in these hills.Valhalla, too, though it’s had its fill ofplundering a girl’s milk white flesh. But last rites were said, forgive his mess,him laid out flat, fingers interlaced as ifpleading, Please God take this…
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13 August: Crossing the Deep
An Elegy: Crossing the Deep Their boat sank with its music.Gone intonight’s dark yawn.The sky blind and cold,stars drowning the wearywho were rocked to sleep. Some raced to the deep.Faces and limbsscattered and sinking,mouths drinking up the sea.And still it lingers, a singing,a stillness of hymns, on the floor of boundless seathere in fathoms ……
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11 August: Aftershock
AFTERSHOCK (168 words) Two, I tell him. He’s asked how many pillows I sleep on. Is that good or bad, I ask, but he’s too busy writing notes in my file to answer, and I’m wondering if I’ll be pounding my fist on the inside of a coffin soon. He says we should do, as…
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10 August: Still Waiting for White Sails
Still Waiting for White Sails Widowed by dark water,she stands, listensto the full tide standing high,waves thrashing, round-backed,and she feels all but the earthhas abandoned her. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.
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10 August: Announcement
I am delighted to announce the publication of one of my poems by Visual Verse Anthology. For many years, they have supported my work, and I’m very appreciative. The poem is available to read at their website: To My Utter Unsuppressed Delight I’ll post the poem here later in the month. Some artwork is created…
It's Still Life 