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3 November: A Moment
A Moment October.Is gone. It’s another new-born month with a new maskthat’s scented and presseddeep into me like a salty hook pullingme back to the sea, or windforking through dry leaveson bare branches or stuttering soundsof playing cards pegged onbicycle spokes. The sea has turned cold,the waterbites my toes, but only for a moment. Some…
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3 November: 03 Völuspá
Thunderclap Seidhr Odin, took her fra Valhöll’s shelf.He, her protector, and she is Vala who calls on the shapers of stars,for their threads of fate and sight, and she calls to south’s lay of lightand the sun’s earth-tethered moon. Her one hand holds steeds of Hel,in the other a death bell’s knell. Seidhr blood she…
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2 November: A Thursday Door
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 @DAntion
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2 November: She Shapes the Wind
She Shapes the Wind From here,She feels the chalk cliffs breathe.Below her, The Atlantic exhales in waves,And inhales wild vapoursInto its kelp roots. She comes hereWhen her mind is a hive,When her heart despairs. She can leanInto a wall of wind, and holdMirrors to her soul’s window. Vigilance is here,Watching for those who seekPeace of…
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02.11 Found Poetry
Orderly Albeit for that one day To be truth And reveal themselves And then leave For the other trials Of an orderly Life Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Wounded by Love, The Life and Wisdom of St Porphyrious, First…
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October 2023: Last Photo on the Card
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 shot taken using my iPhone 14Pro Max. Shared on Twitter with @bushboywhotweet
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1 November: The Season Leaves Should Love
I.I really should love this season, gilt and ruby leaves that move with the wind, catch and hang in spider webs. But I don’t. People in my family always die in the winter. Every last damned one. II. We are like grass. Some always die, but most lift their veil in spring and renew. Recharge.…
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01.11 Found Poetry
Three Bells To be spring water, and flowTo occupy humility’s cup To strike its bell Twice, six or three timesAnytime of day And see the birdsLearn to come. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Wounded by Love, The Life and…
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31 The Found Poetry Project
And Finally … I lived as ifon the point of death. My greatest love,trees, and my heart leaptfor each one planted with my coolcleardrinking water. This is the final found poem for the month of October. I’m considering whether to continue, as I’m only half way through the book. Images are copyright and not to…
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30 October: The Children’s Menu
The Children’s Menu It’s the nuggets.Always the nuggets.No sauce.He hates sauce. Can I substitute saucefor waffles, he asks.May I, says his mother.Yes you can, says the waitress. And he hates all the noise.It’s always the noise.Knives and forks and platesand the chewing chewing. May you turn off the noise, he asks.Can you, says his mother.No,…
