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Twiglet #273 Across the Sky
Frost Writes a Cloudless Sky It’s a cloudless day. Frosted white.The apple tree’s still threadbare.As if I’ll remember that. The plate slipped from my hand,my eyes filled with time, as ifto stall, then fall, but I was too slow.It hit the floor. I wrapped the pieces in broadsheets,Sunday Times, as if time mendsa break, or…
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Day 7 GloPoWriMo: I Feel Sunshine
The less you talk, the more you’re listened to ~ Pauline Phillips I Feel Sunshine – (reading time: 00:58:57) I was born after Mum ate an abundance of chilli, and then took a walk on the sand dunes. That’s when all the wailing began. Not Mum, the doc knocked her out cold, back then natural…
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GloPoWriMo: Day 6 Acrostic
From Blossoms in a Bag From April, had that frost not come,blossoms might’ve shouted out vernality, butcome not bees plumped and powdered bronze, this cold that strikes a slash, chews at fibresbrown to rotting limp and levelled low. Petalpaper seeping, nests empty, snail shells vacated. Bag up the remnants of this broken spring,of this brittle…
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GloPoWriMo: Day 5 – Mythical
Hey Mum, My Name Is Icarus I said the sun was too far away,and I ran like a stag, head down, and fast as scenery flashing bywhen you sit in a car, and stareunblinkingly into a forest whileDad speeds along the dirt track, and I jumped off the brick wall,my arms feathered in pillowcases, and…
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5.04.22 dVerse Quadrille Season
Forgive Me Your Plums In the tight centre offlesh pressing its flesh,a rough skin stone waitsin this small yellow plum.It inspires poetry, it’s cold,straight from the icebox.It’s the season for Post-it notes,for sweet plums whose stonesare tight-wound in its rug. Written for dVerse Poets, Quadrille Monday. Inspired by William Carlos Williams,”This Is Just to Say”…
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Glo/NaPoWriMo: Day 4, A Prompt
For Old Women Who Find Their Wings You wake up, and leave the curtains closed. What will the neighbours think: a. you’re still sleeping, b. you died in your sleep. Listen to the weather. Give it a colour. Sit on the edge of the bed, feel your weight. Give your weight a colour that clashes…
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for Visual Verse April ’22
The Woman Wore Red I dreamt of a woman in red,and when she spoke,I heard her heart in my ears.I heard her blood rushingheavy rhythms of storms,and she stood therein all weather, as if victorious. She, with no shadow,no equal,and no angel’s trumpet,followed me likethe wind’s direction. She, a rustingiron sign post, seeking direction. Arms…
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GloPoWriMo Day 3: A Glosa Poem
A Glosa poem form in response to a quatrain from Old Man Throwing a Ball, by David Baker “dodders out, she’s old as the sky, wheeling her green tank with its sweet vein, breath. She tips down the path he’s made for…
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for Twiglet #272
In Her Own Shadow The old woman I’m becomingis pestering me. It’s leaped on me the wayJuly does. There’s nothing gradualabout it. Written for Twiglet #272 “Shadows of Silence”. ©Misky 2022. Image WikiArt: Head of an Old Peasant Woman with White Cap by Vincent van Gogh, 1884; Nuenen, Netherlands. Public Domain. Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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