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24 July: The July Journal 12.7.23
Over the Alps 12 July: Across the Alps Chamonix & Mont Blanc Châtillon churches,tall steeplesand pointy roofs,grey stonethe colour of mid-February,and you hum Ave Mariawithout realising. Image taken with iPhone 14 Pro ©Misky 2023
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22 July: The July Journal
Thoughts on Wind Drying Laundry 22.7.23 Thoughts on Wind When Drying Laundry Summer wind is slow and patient. Like old age.It comes at you in waves. Through small spaces and dark cavities,around stones, and ringing silenced thoughts. It lifts and turns,such a frisky dance. It’s a simple wisdom,like an unfinished sentence that ©Misky 2023
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22 July: The July Journal 10.7.23
10 July: We’re Off on a 3-week Driving Holiday from UK to Italy and Southern France. I.the last dream of the night,it’s a sparrow’s song,it’s a small flower,a sliver of sun shining across the floor.and I smell coffee. II.Your car’s lost its roof, says a small boy.Do you think it’s a fast car, asks his…
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11 July: La Route
Shade under a tree,the breeze is mummifying.Grass crackles and chirps.Lunch is sandwichesfrom the petrol station. Continue on the A29 for 165 kilometres, instructs the unflappable woman with directions. She never feels the heat. ©Misky 2023.
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9 July: Four Days Away
9 July (Home Again)moss is growing on the roof,my fingers are stainedwith the scent of berries,and the laundry is dryingoutside in the rain. 7 July (Traffic on the M4)The road is wetbut still warm to the core,a long-haul driver sitsdrowsy, tyres humming.The day strums andthe night’s dream-haunted,a vagrant’s song is in his head.And the road…
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8 July: A Few Days in the Cotswolds and Bath
Click on the first photo, and then you can view the images as a slide show with caption/descriptions. A few photos from last week’s reunion with old friends. Cotswolds Distillery, Burford, Burton-on-the-Water, Bibury and Arlington Row, Hidcote Gardens, then off to Bath (the cathedral and the Roman Baths). No AI artwork in this one. All…
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3 July: A Found Poem Cut Up: Summer
Written for #Poeticformschallenge A Found Poem: Cut Up Summer’s to dance, to weave throughbranches brushed of silk, colonnade of old cutsin the air, like a breeze that leaves delicate sound, thatebbs and flows to my heartbeat, a touch of soft high-pitchedbreeze. Note: I think I prefer this version to the original. I’ve done a lot of…
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July: Going Dark
Going Dark Cotswold’s Oolitic Limestone is calling me back into its warmth and colour, but just for a week. J. B. Priestley wrote of Cotswold stone – “the truth is that it has no colour that can be described. Even when the sun is obscured and the light is cold, these walls are still faintly…
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2 July: A Cadralor Poem
A Cadralor Poem: Time and Tea I.Seems like just yesterdayI was wearing a woollen hat and long coat,I was hunched over a snow shovel,my grey hair, like tassels flying about,my surrender flags of whiteness. II.Summer is channelling air,warmth even in darkness,baby birds playing gramophones, sound waves,cleft mouths open and waitingfor their mothers, as soft as…
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1 July: The Long Way Round
Queue Jumping We’re driving home, the rain is biblical, lashing down. The street seems slicked with resin, and we sit in a queue of cars, red taillights blurring as the wipers squeak across the windscreen. “At least we don’t have to worry about the hosepipe ban,” I say, “this rain will wash the car, and…
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