Category: prose
-
13 Oct: The Key
The Key That soundof the lock surrendering.Of ancient fingersfinally answering. I am the keeperof the lock.Of its click.The finder of its form in its beautiful chaos.I keep turning the keys.I keep listeningfor the locks to click. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.
-
12 Oct: The Forgiveness of Stones
The Forgiveness of Stones Senryu The light reaches down —a blue forgiveness for allthe stones we carry. Haiku Sunlight on cold stone,drifting through silent blue hymns —the sea’s breathing glass. Written for SenHai Saturday I Write Her senyru and haiku. poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025. Image from Unsplash
-
9.10: Thundershade – The Liturgy
22 of 27 · Liturgy for the Unseen Sky I. The Unseen We knew the sky existednot because we saw its blue,its vastness,its sea of stars —but because we heard the storm. We felt its breath upon our faces,cold and electric.We heard its voicein the groan of the pines,the shudder of the shutters,the long, low…
-
8 Oct: A Six – The Book of 27
22 of 27: Thundershade – a Colour once felt, not seen—Faith in resonance, sight through storm Thundershade — Faith in resonance, sight through storm The night was blind-thick with silence and hidden behind clouds — then came thunder crawling through the walls, low and certain, and she knew the storm was already standing on the…
-
8.10: A Six Sentence Story
The Small Matter at the Aire de la Clermont-Ferrand Rest Stop The cubicle door springs open with a bang, and a woman emerges; our eyes meet in a flash of mutually accusatory side-eye, wads of loo roll fill both of her hands. “French toilets,” she drawls with a weary little heaven-tilt of the head, the…
-
8.10: A Cello’s Song
A Cello’s Song (A Ci-style poem to the musical pattern of Shuǐlóngyín) I rise from silence, drawn by the bow,hair on gut, breath against stillness.At first I am nothing —a shiver through empty air,a thread unwinding from dusk. Shadows lean close to listen.Walls tremble; windows remember rain.The candle wavers, then steadies.A single voice holds the…
-
28 Sept: Mystical Sunday
The Jar-Keeper (A Six Sentence Story) She keeps them in mason jars — not the whole eyes, mais non, just their colours. Jar #1: hazel flecked with gold, stolen from a baker who smiled too wide.Jar #2: a pale blue like a winter promise, taken from the gaze of a woman who never blinked at…
-
28.09: Au Revoir
Gone to dance On The Bridge of Avignon, drink the Rhône, and eat my bodyweight in cheese — back when the moon pulls the tide of my feet. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.
-
27.09: MicroDosing 100µg
The wheat stood like an army of old men, with their backs bent but unbroken, their gold gone dull under the autumn flat sky. A kestrel circled high above — on a breeze that smelled of turned earth and too soon endings. Its cry was a needle pulling a thread of silence through the day.…
-
25.09: A Six Sentence Story
Seven Seven: prime, indivisible, stubbornly herself. She is a parenthesis of grace, a question mark of sunlight — “Can you do this?” she asks as she unfolds into a perfect split on the kitchen tiles, a compass toward joy and impossibility. Her hair is a midnight river streaked with ribbons — not just purple, but…
It's Still Life 