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GloPoWriMo Day 9: Nonet & Kimo
Two Poem Forms: Nonet and Kimo I.A Nonet Poem Hear night rain. You needn’t look, you knowits grey distance. You know laceworkthrough limbs. Twigs dripping armour.Dreams swept truant intosome occupied sky.Constellationsfrom elsewhere into soakednight. II. A Kimo Poem This morning’s air is empty of winterBird song pooling in my earsAnd green silkens the trees NaPoWriMo…
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GloPoWriMo Day 8: What They Never Tell You Could Fill a Book
What they Never Tell You Could Fill a Book (reading time: 00:01.14) It’s dawn.The moon laughs. My dogs are runningthrough the forest. For the lake.Gasping at air,chasing around chestnut trees.Around birch trees gleamingwhite in their own shadows. I play here.Climb trees.Feed magpies. Squirrels.Leave seeds for robins. AndI fall out of trees.Pretend to be a horse.Jump…
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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…
