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  • Miz Quickly’s Day 11: Monday (2)

    Miz Quickly’s Day 11: Monday (2)

    Untitled On Tuesday I sharpenedand oiled the secateurs. On Wednesday I cartedaway the pruned roses. On Thursday I sliced upbananas and made bread. On Friday I cut back thegrapevines that were dead. On Saturday I thoughtI heard a nightjar sing. On Sunday I didn’t doa single damned thing. But today is Monday. Written for Miz Quickly’s…

    Misky

    Oct 11, 2021
    Miz Q, Poetry
  • Miz Quickly’s Day 11: Monday

    Miz Quickly’s Day 11: Monday

    11 October, Monday: Not by choice, my alarm lets me sleep through all its noise until 8:30. That’s every day, not just today, and then I smell coffee. It starts brewing at 8. Perhaps it’s the coffee that wakes me up. I think coffee is supposed to do that. A few stretches, and I shower.…

    Misky

    Oct 11, 2021
    Miz Q, Poetic Forms, Poetry
    Haibun
  • Miz Quickly’s Day 10: What If

    Miz Quickly’s Day 10: What If

    Where’s the Rabbit what if I’m wrongwhat if there’s no such thing as wrong no wrong path, wrong door, wrong choice. what if there was onlyhere, now, simple happiness. perfect happiness, a gossamer light. what if I found happinessand I was wrong about it. what if there never was a rabbit in his hat. written…

    Misky

    Oct 10, 2021
    #apoemaday, Miz Q, Poetry
  • Miz Quickly’s Day 9: As Seen By …

    Miz Quickly’s Day 9: As Seen By …

    What the Nissan Figaro Said Next … Pumps still dry, no petrol for 3-weeks.I’m parked-up in neighbourhood voices. One ear to the asphalt, and one eye on the road – potholes, twiggy weeds. A road paved with good intentions,platinum-laced fumes on the road. There’s a new cat sniffing around,around me, it’s white with a racoon…

    Misky

    Oct 9, 2021
    Miz Q, Poetry
  • 9 October: A Strange Mildness

    9 October: A Strange Mildness

    The Turn of the Season blessthis mess of leaves these trees rattle andturn to burnt bits leaves curl andclench to themselves crisp and brokenunder some version of sun that no longer warmsthrough glass panes. it’s a blinding opticof strange mildness Photo by Jason Mitrione on Unsplash. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021

    Misky

    Oct 9, 2021
    Journal, Poetry
    autumn, nature
  • The Poeming: A Found Poetry Project

    The Poeming: A Found Poetry Project

    Originally posted on It's Still Life: During the month of October, I’m participating in The Poeming Project, a month of Found Poetry, with poems created and sourced from John Grisham’s “The Pelican Brief,” Published by Arrow Books (Penguin Random House UK) in digital format, published in 2010. My project is called Broken Windows, and it’s…

    Misky

    Oct 8, 2021
    Poetry
  • Miz Quickly’s Day 8: Two Rooms

    Miz Quickly’s Day 8: Two Rooms

    Muddy Waters A glass of cold waterand two aspirin.There’s a crow pickingmy skull into tiny bones.A simmering cranial gap to a steep slope. Grey trees.A footbridge pinned downin reeds and a shallow creek.You’re a kingdom of rot.The creak in your bed. In response to Miz Quickly’s Day 8 “Two Rooms” prompt. I used the room with the…

    Misky

    Oct 8, 2021
    Miz Q, Poetry
  • for Miz Quickly’s Day 7

    for Miz Quickly’s Day 7

    It Won’t Happen Again This Year What happened to the blue of yesterday.Everything is as vague as today’s haze. October colours. Burn. Burn We are children at the edge of a reset.Now rain rattles the windows, wind bellows and wheezes at us from the centuries. October holds us in its belt buckle,in its flow of…

    Misky

    Oct 7, 2021
    Miz Q, Poetry
  • More Thoughts on Miz Quickly’s Day 6

    More Thoughts on Miz Quickly’s Day 6

    Here are a few more thoughts on Miz Quickly’s Day 6 “All The Best Places”  The best place to eat an apple:is on a sun-bleached, weathered wooden bench that threatens to slip a sliver into your thigh, but you knew this might happen, so you’re wearing your favourite worn-out jeans, a red cotton t-shirt, and you’re wishing…

    Misky

    Oct 7, 2021
    Miz Q, prose
  • For Twiglet #247

    A Window Seat at the Café Of course I can, he’s asking if I caneat this entire thing, a bun stuffed fullof stiff whipped cream. He sips his coffee,always black, always hot,and thinks about somethingthat he says is nothing, when I ask. We fall silent. He watches shopperspass the window. I watch a flyon the…

    Misky

    Oct 7, 2021
    Poetry, Twiglets
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