Category: #RDP
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26 February: #RDP: Chain
Resinated on a thin gold chaindelicateand holdingthe silken shimmerof a butterflycaught within amber Written for RDP “chain”. AI Digital Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #rdp #amwriting @midjourney
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25 February: RDP Plump
Plumped Like earth waking upfingertipsthat outweigh the sun.Plump as red, and nearing rot.A mouthful of strawberries Written for RDP “Plump” AI Digital Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney
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23 February: Ekphrastic – Imagine a Fly
Imagine a Fly Imagine never listening to Bach, never noticing a rainbow or looking for its pot of gold, never feeling drunk whilst looking at the stars, or knowing a spider’s laugh as you’re caught up in its web. An Ekphrastic poem written for Petite Pen, 35 words and RDP “Complicated” Image by Zdzistaw Beksinski.…
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23 February: RDP “Delete”
Delete Me Delete me, I say,from your call list.I don’t need an extended warranty.I don’t need a wheelchair.I don’t need purified air.I don’t need a new driveway,new windows, or insulation.I don’t need a plot, you silly lot, andI don’t appreciate your insinuation.I don’t want my trees trimmed.I don’t have scuffed alloy rims.I don’t want you…
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21 February: RDP “Spellbound”
I. Spellbound We three dragonssqueezing warmthout of stones drunk on sunspellbound to heat asour skin drags along our bones.We three dragons,a trick of the light. II. Spellbound Eyes flit. Tails flick.Toe of lizard and tongueof dog. Owl wings and violet palms. Spell-bound double double,we be toil and trouble. written for RDP “spellbound” and Twiglets “Trick of…
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21 February: RDP – Twilight
The It of It All She wants to be Mary Oliver, or Count Tolstoy, but that creates all sorts of pronoun issues she can’t understand. So she sits on the balcony, and takes in views of town, its white-limed houses with low roofs, and rose gardens. She thinks of having a smoke, forgetting she quit…
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17 February: RDP “Quest”
A Quest to M&S That sharp fuzzled jab in the cup,which was no chalice by any stretch,’twas likened unto a stag’s horn,or to be sprung upon by a spreading oak.I am wounded by an underwire.I am the Fisher King with a dagger in my breast. Tell me, Sir Perceval, seekerof the holey wonders, and wonderwear,let…
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