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Ten Things of Thankful
Rain, rain, hail and thunder as temperatures dropped to normal for a few days. I baked bread early one morning, froze the loaves to eat later, and then we had a power cut for nearly four hours. 1) A good crop of apples seems likely this year. “June Drop” will thin out the apples on…
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0506: Everywhere Poems
Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a starting point and follow wherever attention leads. It’s — go for a walk and see where you end up. 26 May: A Kitchen Window Poem It’s 36°C, and I have winter on my mind. Cold driven deep into stone.Winter’s heart.Air sharp as glass. The kind of…
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0406: Journal of Thoughts
A Small Rebellion The pen believes its ink holds now,which neither clock nor calendar allows. I write — watermark my days,my ink a stubborn, mortal praise, as my hand moves like it’s always done, words to paper; I press my mark. This, my small rebellion against the dark. Written for Reena’s Challenge. Some images created with Midjourney;…
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0406: Everywhere Poems
An Everywhere Poem: Expectations while other girlsmade daisy chains, I dropped a hookwith a wormin a puddle and expected a fish. I’ve never been afraidof worms. Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a starting point and follow wherever attention leads. It’s — go for a walk and see where you end up. Some…
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0406: A Thursday Door
Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the way to share my love of doors — of all sorts. I’ve trawled through my photos and found a few to share. Bushboy (Brian Dodd) also shares photos of doors from his his journeys. ©Misky 2022-2026 Shared on X #amwriting @bushboywhotweet and @DAntion
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0306: Slightly Dangerous
(an off-piste Everywhere Poem gone for Six) “How is it in there?” asks a man. “In a word, chaos,” I tell him,“but worth it; the olive oil is half price,” and I close the boot of my car while his wife claims my empty trolley. I hate this placebut always return,navigating the demonic ritualsof warehouse…
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0206: Everywhere Poems
Everywhere Poems don’t have a subject. They have a starting point and follow wherever attention leads. It’s — go for a walk and see where you end up. A Kitchen Window Poem there’s a birdin the birdbath, wings emptyingthe bowl, rain fallingthrough the trees. A grey squirrelcrosses the fence, its taila thickened brush — annoyed…
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0206: Brigid’s Diary – A Six
Part 12.1, Brigid’s Diary: Aries, France, Spring 1836 The Yellow House and the Thin Law We took rooms at 2 Place Lamartine in a yellow house that looked like warmth from a distance, and up close smelled of damp plaster, fried onions, and bodies worked too hard for too little. Around us, the neighbourhood spoke…
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0106: Liturgy for a Starry Night
Liturgy for a Starry Night, Part 12.1, Arles, Spring 1836(where beauty is the last thing left that belongs to us) I. The Yellow HouseIt sits on the corner,mustard yellow, warm to the eye,a promise of shelterthat the nose immediately contradicts. Damp plaster. Fried onion.Lingering acrid smoke from firesthat never fully caught. This is Arles.This is…
It's Still Life 