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31 January: A Tanka of Water
The Philosophy of Water a glass of water, ridiculous to think itmight solve life’s problems, to drink in a moment’s calm of water’s philosophy. AI Digital Art is mine and created using Midjourney’s bot (v4). Image and tanka poem 5.7.5.7.7 ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney
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29 January: Stream of Consciousness
Sunday morning: (304 words) He’s sitting in his brand new car, my neighbour, reading the user manual, I assume, although a moment later I see it’s The Times newspaper. He turns the page, shakes it straight, and folds it into a manageable rectangle. It rests on his steering wheel, and he’s drinking coffee with a…
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28 January: for Fireblossom’s Word List
This Isn’t About Trains or Armadillos That starched ribbon in her hair,its of dubious use. Absurd to thinkit can tie smoke, or restrain hairthat’s the colour of Moroccan wind. And she leans over the jukebox,f-me boots up to her anymores. She’s a superstar Wurlitzer genius, a mix of nightbird, and tar soap. This society girl…
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27 January: Fallen
Fallen He’s unbalanced by gravity, plummets like currency. Tumbles on the trail and then disappears from view. There’s a bolt of noise through his head, and he looks around – a slow forest of ebony, trees of speech, lanky, a green canopy of limbs. The ground is thick, muddy, and bitter, and his eyes are…
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25 January: dVerse Grandmothers
Granny Eunice Granny says she’ll give mea dish of tonguesif the screen door slams. The screen door slams. Fly paper swingsand snags sunny yellowin the summer breeze. Bacon’s fryingin curls and shrinks.Spits. The flame jumps. Granny’s arms are dressedin skin and flour.Butter on her cold fingers. It’s a blessing to a baker, she says. Scones.…
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24 January: An Imagist Poem
It’s Ideal It’s small becauseit has to be small. Room for a cup of coffee, and her feet. Corner view.Two sash windows.Third floor. A wide window sillfor wildflowers.Jam jar for a vase. Desk.Chair.Lamp. Rattling traffic. The overground.Horns, and a clattering radiator. Heels and trainers.Coats and brollies.Into the wind A rabble of litter.A newsagents’ debris.A chippy…
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24 January: dVerse Quadrille
Winter Garden Winter’s moon leavesa slick of ice, agonybedded on the leaves. Touched by silence. The garden shinesstiff as starched sheets. The roses buriedwhere music has gone quiet. Summer was once herewith secret perfumes thatflew the air on iced wings. for dVerse Poets, Quadrille #168 “Ice”. AI Digital Art is mine and created using Midjourney’s bot (v4).…
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24 January: JusJoJan “Paintbrushes”
Mukluks and the Colour Blue He’s wearing his favourite slippers.Mukluks, that’s what he calls them because his aunt, who lived in Greenland, called them that. But, his mukluks have a Fair Islepattern. Not exactly Kalaallisut. And he scuffs along the floor, sohe won’t stride straight out of them, making a sh-sh sound that I just…
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23 January: for Fireblossom Wordgarden
Her Dotage some memorieslike airyou can’t hold on to themsome remainas lucid as the scent ofnewly mown grass I grew foxgloves last yearand when they bloomedI could hear Dad’s voice – Find me foxgloves, and I’ll show you blackberries. Mum wanted a magnoliasaid it reminded her ofher father’s accent – Straight off the Florida panhandle,…
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22 January: A Belligerence
A Belligerence What is it, thiscatch in my eye, thatblack ozonal identity.A fleeting shadowreflecting on the sky. What is it that offends my eye, what electrical impulse,what psychic uprooting.What phantom illnessbrewed this broken wisdom. War is a suicide foundry,a belligerence. A road to hell. written for Linda’s JusJoJan Day 20 “Phantom”. AI Digital Art is mine…
It's Still Life 