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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…
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27 Nov: Q and PA Day 27
A Poem Based on Henri Rousseau’s “Myself. Portrait Landscape” (from L’ile Saint Louis) This woman’s name is Clémence.She is Henri Rousseau’s lover. You must, she tells, Rousseau,be frontal, be primitive. Be the lion in your jungle. Dress yourself inbest Sunday’s black, and permit your feet to rise on pavements.Pause semaphores on their lines, and strike…
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26 Nov: PA & Q Day 26
A Particular Tree (Major Oak, Nottinghamshire) Beyond the iron gatesof the low stone wall,where the view widenson the slow rising hills is a model of serious trees. There amongst the birds, fields and things that arepermanent and unbroken,we look up at that tree as true and honest wisdom. Its limbs stretch out inthe morning sun…
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25 Nov: Q and PA Day 25
In All seriousness A boy asks the local halal butcher“Are you Santa, sir?” And the butcher rolls two fingerson his bristley beard, as if piecingmyth and faith into a jigsaw puzzle. He spins the rotisserie, fat rendersin long drips from the doner meat,and he slices precisely thin sheets. “No, I am not Santa, but I…
It's Still Life 