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17 January: for JusJoJan Day 16
It’s Called Yididiilo, I Think Yididiilo.I think that’s Somalian for ‘optimistic’, and she certainly is, thinking thata bus will stop here. She has a time schedule, andshe wants to go places likeNutfield. And Redhill. And go to that farm shop across fromthe betting shop, next to whereBlockbusters used to be, although it’s a bingo hall…
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16 January: The Answer is Grey
Grey Grey is the answer.The clouds chained to the sky.The wind heavy with rain.An icy road.The days. The days. EndlessWinter.Moonless Cold.Silence.Sleep.The space betweenA thought.A cashmere scarf.A stray hair.A cold stone.Your empty chair. AI Digital Art is mine and created using Midjourney’s bot (v4, niji engine). Image and poem ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting #poetry…
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15 January: Bloganuary and JusJoJan
A Breath of Gratitude Through two long years,the lavender bloomed,the thyme grew largeand hard, the oak treespulsed spring green, and my face still behind a mask. And it was several monthsinto autumn when I walkedinto a supermarket, inhaledscents of fruit instead of myslumped breath, and gratitudefilled my lungs as if newborn. And then a woman…
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15 January: Once Upon a Time
Once upon a time when the hordes began every hesitant sentence with Ah or Um or Well, they took comfort in knowing everyone started a thought with the same pause. To collect their thoughts, most like. Like pulling up their socks. Adjusting ones belt. Like before blowing their nose they’d say, Um, and then examine…
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14 January: A.I. Art Plays Games
“Life is like a game of chess. To win you have to make a move.” ~ Allan Rufus AI Digital Art is mine and created using Midjourney’s bot (v4). Image and poem ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney
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13 January: For Fireblossom
A Wounded Pilgrim The flame flickers, and goes out, the candle smokes with wisps like cottonwood. An angel’s wings, or was it a divine gust. A woman rushes her rosary, fingers the beads, movement like cogs in a gear, sounds, razor sharp fall from her lips. She buzzes like a bee. A pious woman, a…
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13 January: dVerse Found Poetry
Her Cabbage Patch Windermere peaks are a perfect place to cry, I tell her. And she is. We’re eating breakfast, and can I hear the clock tick as haired seeds of dandelions fly, curl on itself, soft as lip balm. We are not poor, but in these times, we live as though we are, so…
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12 January: dVerse Visions
Wreckage Stop sign at the corner, scorched grass and a small house with two frontage windows, painted pea green and peeling. Red roof and no chimney, wooden porch, two broad steps. A girl with long legs, face pale as snow turned hard as stone, black hair long as a day can stretch, tossing a red…
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12 January: Polishing
Dirty Windows Vinegar Water The Guardian Polishing windows Labour away last week’s weather Wax on – wax off – wax on Vinegar Water The Telegraph Polishing smears it’s a conservative effort Wax off – wax off Written for WordPress Bloganuary Day 12 “chores” (a political slant) AI Digital Art is mine and created using Midjourney’s bot (v4).…
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12 January: A Season’s Edge
A Season’s Edge The air breathes through me in glass clear notes. Sweetly sad, my mind, like a grieving heart on the edge of happy memories. And there! Primroses in the snow. Spring! Spring! I catch its pleasure, thankful I’ve survived another winter. Inhale its periwinkle breath. Forget me not, I whisper. Forget me not.…
It's Still Life 