Category: prose
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9.2. Wisting
It’s Saturday, 21.00, and I am watching Wisting on BBC 4, Norwegian, subtitled in English, although I don’t need the subtitles, and there’s a man standing on a wooden dock that rocks with the brush of each wave under its pontoons, and a large dog standing on heaped mounds of rock that look shaped by…
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9 Feb: 12 Minutes Past 8
Twelve Minutes Past Eight (A List Poem) Chimney Smoke in curls Grass hard with frost 2 doves pacing the roof ridge Scent of oatmeal A spoon stirring coffee A blackbird singing in the apple treeIce melting in drips Clock-radio playing upstairs Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.
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A Haibun to Darkness
Waiting for the Dark I sit by the window, the winter trees watching over me as daffodils push through soil and crocuses wait for tomorrow’s sun, and I write this, the light fading until gone, until the paper is more part of darkness than day, and I sit through the hour into night, alone by…
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18.12.24 Ink in Thirds
Every Ebb and Sigh I sit here, on a bench, a memorial seat to someone I don’t know, taking in a breath of salt and secrets drifting from the rising sea. This incoming tide is a melody of brine; my dreams; their ghosts; rushing in on the keel of an old ship, sails like fallen…
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9 Nov: Poem-a-Day Challenge
Well, Maybe Not a Thousand … It was the sort of summer that one vaguely remembers – an idle summer of a thousand different hours, except for a few days when Farmer Lars harvested the fields and left stubble and nowhere for rabbits and field mice to hide – hawks waiting in the trees with…
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6 Nov: dVerse Prosery
Paper Trail Somewhere out of the ninth month, midnight came on me suddenly as the first of January. I had lost three months to emails and copious (mostly illegible) notes of maybe-there’s-a-poem-in-this, and to-do/shopping lists, blog comments wanting attention, dozens of daily mail shots from the postman for funeral homes, assisted living, stair lifts, vitamins…
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4 June: dVerse Prosery
THE HOSTILE WITNESS His fate, governed by a clock. Break for tea. Break for lunch. Break his neck from the end of a rope. He trickles sweat like a nervous tide, and whispers, “I pray to God that she may lie forever.” With unopened eye, movement of its blind swivel hidden, an old woman places…
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3 April: Part 3 – The Colour of Walls
Previous instalments of this story: Part 1: The Pull Back Part 2: The Measure of Her Part 2: The Gatekeeper’s ResponsePart 3: The Colour of Walls Part 4: Tectonic Shifts Part 5: Out of the Frying Pan At an Intersection Named After an English King and a SaintPart 3: The Colour of Walls When you’re in the middle of a street you…
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27 March: Part 2 – The Measure of Her
Previous instalments of this story: Part 1: The Pull Back Part 2: The Measure of Her Part 2: The Gatekeeper’s Response Part 3: The Colour of Walls Part 4: Tectonic Shifts Part 5: Out of the Frying Pan Part 6: How to Break Eggs Part 7: A Moon River Part 8: Starlight Shines on the Roof Part 9: Before When Part: 9.1 Flower Power At the Intersection of…
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5 March: for Six Sentence Story
Sitting on a Bench Dedicated to Those Who Felt the Need to Jump There’s something about the beauty of this place, Beachy Head, that draws people in and magnifies that terrifying first rush of one more morning … one part not wanting to be in pain, one part beyond numb, one part wishing for another…
It's Still Life 