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01 The Found Poetry Project
A concise explanation of Found Poetry and Dadaism can be read at Wikipedia Explains Found Poetry Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked. (found on pgs preface -1) Wounded by Love, The Life and Wisdom of St Porphyrious, First published in English 2005. ISBN 978-960-7120-19-9.
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2 October: Tattoo
Tattoo It’s a long lingering bruisefor a woman he once loved, a red inked heartwith a twisting rose vine,thorny,prickly. Bloody woman’s still under his skin. He’s thankful for small mercies,it’s on his boney shoulder bladeand he can’t see itwithout mirrors and contortions. And he cushions his beer buzzagainst the snooker table,draws back the cue stick,…
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September: Last Photo on the Card
This is the St Nikolaj, which recently was renamed The Viking for commercial reasons. For me, this beautiful old ship will always be the St Nikolaj. This post is in response to Brian’s monthly challenge Last Photo on the Card. Brian (aka Bushboy) asks for the Last Photos on your phone/camera/SD card. Here is the last…
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1 October: Counting for Something
Counting For Something There’s a lunar halo around the full moon. And a Chihuahua barks at mefrom the other side of my neighbour’s door.It’s a voice of acid rain, and I’m holding a bag of French goodies –Dijon mustards and pink macarons.I’ll dig up something for the dog. It’s the last night of September,and the…
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30 September: A Pioneer Poem
A Ghost of You Time won’t heal this scar –I’m your scattered ruin.Your touch, how much‘fore your scent leaves mywaking sleep and dreams.Take your weedy walk –I’m your scattered ruin.Time won’t heal some scars. A Pioneer Poem for MPP “haunted”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text…
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30 September: For Unicorn Challenge
The Derelict Line to Turners Hill My feet have come to rest here,at the end of this dim lit lane, where fallen leaves, gold and red and brown,rain down like regal crowns, and however soft I treadupon this hardened path, I stop and look and listen for the 8:04,a train from a sky faded world,…
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29 September: A Pocketful
A Pocketful I am from damp forestswith moss hanging like men’sgrey beards from branches. Orange huckleberriesWild blueberriesJune’s strawberries, sunburnt red. There was no pizza,tomato sauce was ketchup,and pockets always deep. And you neededan operatorto connect to another phone. My dad collectedbuffalo nickels,and shiny silver dollars … and my mum made all of our clothing,and all…
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28 September: A Thursday Door
A house front door in Lübeck, Germany Bushboy (Brian Dodd) shares photos of doors, but not just any doors. Spectacular doors from his journeys. Dan’s Thursday Doors opened the door on this. I love doors of all sorts. I’ve trawled through my holiday snaps and found a few to share. ©Misky 2023 Shared on X #amwriting @bushboywhotweet and…
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28 September: Haibun Monday “Equinox”
Autumn’s winter came last night. September’s departing with a rip. Trees undressed of their fiery colour. A storm blows through. This one has a name. Agnes. A woman. As though a storm might sit in a chair in a secluded corner, cross her legs in a most delicate and enticing way, sweet as dripping honey.…
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27 September: The Goatherd #10
The Girl of Goats The man arrivedon the back of dawn dew air.If only, if only to turn back time.If only to be there. For her. Moonlight had a creased disregardthat night – it was blackas a crushed star. The moon pulled at him,and he knew its crush. She told him of cursing the wind…
It's Still Life 