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7 December: Box
Box those scarred handssuggest age beyond numbers, oh, wondrous stories thosehands could tell, if just someone asked, but todaywith long-blade sheers in hand, he’s alonewith his thoughts and talent, silentlyclipping, snipping away strays, sculptingancient box hedges into surprising shapes. AI Digital Art: created using Midjourney’s bot (v4b) Image and poem ©Misky 2022 Shared on Twitter…
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6 December: Snow Cries Out for a Crow (Revised)
Snow Cries Out for a Crow I want to dreamsummer across the snow. Nosnow,or snowydirt. Nogrey anything. Noblue handsor quaking bones. There’s nofoothold, grip or tread. I want to drawheat across my skin. Snow cries out for a crow. Image: Digital Art in the style of L. Lowry ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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5 December: Distractions
Distractions Is it dreaming where he goes,or is it somewhere quietbetween those paragraphs.Quiet is no distraction for us. We’ve been quiet for hours.I’m reading Richard Osman,he’s reading the newspaper. He reads it from front to back, and sleeps between paragraphs.Wakes, resumes reading, anddoesn’t miss a step. And I look past him to the wall, from…
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4 December: for V.V.
The Colour of Plastic Plastic is the colourof my neighbour’s left eye.Yellow is the colourof his liver. And if this were a story,it would twistlike Rubik’s cube. All the characters wouldhave their angles,and I’d give them names,like Rhombus and Scalene. But this isn’t a story,and my neighbour’s liveris apt to be the death of him,…
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3 December: The Final Twist
The Final Twist Life’s puzzles were easy to solvewhen saints stared down at youfrom cathedral overhangs, and gargoyles sang to spring rain.They hung from iron tonguesand spilled warnings on us. We knew the rules of heavenand hell, and hoped gargoylesdidn’t put bats in our belfry. Then someone invented plastic,and the world twisted. Plastic’swritten its opinion…
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2 December: The Last Photo (of November)
I have two photos this month for Brian’s Last Photo of the Month. One taken on my phone, and the other taken with my husband’s phone because I forgot mine at home. Shared with #theLastPhoto on Twitter. Images are ©Misky, 2022
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30 Nov: Miz Q’s Last Small One
Small Pieces of Silver We are like those silver things, misty silver lights, olive tree leaves, that silver shiver of uncertainty, that light willowy fog at night, like an army of light refusing to fade, like crystal chandeliers, and silver spoons.
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30 Nov: PA & Twiglets #307
And It’s Lizard Couplets The house leaks light out the window, across dewy grass sparkling like small stars as heat ripples off the tin roof. A lizard stretches long on a stone, eyes the colour of burnt sugar, it’s as alert as an Aztec warrior. The bowl of water and melon I place by the…
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29 Nov: A Fox-Gazelle
A White Fox in Camouflage The wind is in the key of coldness. It barks as trees argue with the wind, starved by its conversation. There, perched on branches, winter birds and other wings, where birds know there is warmth below the snow. The trees suck at dark layers, the sun pulled up by its…
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29 Nov: The Prophecy
The Prophecy (Remixed) It was grey silt that bubbled up heat from the depths. It was a keening, a sibyl’s wisdom, like tea leaves in the bottom of a cup. These poems/prose are draft versions, written in participation of Miz Quickly’s prompts “a particular tree” and Writers’ Digest (Poetic Asides) “second thoughts” November poem-a-day challenge. The aim: to produce…
It's Still Life 