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Primordial
Primordial it is no smallthing, this dark spark.a troubled heart, a slippery place of spills and chills.like rain that falls faint and light.ever so slight, that shift,that slide into pride exposed. Inspired by: image @abigfatcanofworms at Out of the Cave,…
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Goldfish, Candy Floss and the Incident with the Merry-Go-Round
Goldfish, Candy Floss and the Incident with the Merry-Go-Round The stars were upset that night.Sunburn kept Dad awake, whichkept Mum awake, and if we’d hada dog, it would’ve been awake, too. But we only had a goldfish. It lived in a large bowl with a castlefor it to swim in and out of because‘A man’s…
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday
This Week (a haibun) Monday. I change the tablecloth on Mondays. It’s the African one this week. I watched a woman weaving it. On wooden looms. Meadow green threads. Beetroot reds. Crow black. Crisscrossed fabric. Monday used to be laundry day. Not anymore. Retirement. Lockdown. The hamper takes forever to fill nowadays. There’s just the…
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dVerse Haibun for August
Against August heat that’s pinpricked into the brick wall, and wings warmed awake and brittle in the sun, bees work within the scent of lilac and lavender as the long days slide sideways. Last scents of summerA sharp edged breath in the treesLast bluing of sky Written for dVerse Poets, Haibun Monday “August”. Main photo is mine, published on Unsplash,…
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Untitled Found Poem (draft)
Untitled Found Poem He is the sumof life’s comforts. A mealbroad as it is long except that he was turneda few times on a griddle. Text Found and Remixed from The Masses Publishing Company, Vol. 1, pg 12 “Unite in Buying as in Selling” by Eugene Wood. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday
31 July 21: A Stream of Consciousness Haibun The bees are crazy on fermented honey, like happy little saints working their way to heaven, and there’s pink and white and green in this a mangle of flowers, a handful for granny’s vase, and in a few days they’ll wilt and drop across the table, lily…
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Flashback Friday: Assignment 2, Whitman’s Civil War – Writing and Imaging Loss, Death, and Disaster
Trônes Wood: The Somme They expected the heavensto fall. The stars to wail.Expected the nightto rupture white,smite their eyesand pour down ice. They feared their own creation.Now we fear our own forgiveness. We’ve lost their lessonsin long green grass,in wide meadows of rye,and in tin-tune birdsong.Those lessons, too porous,lost on the honour of dead. Years…
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a dVerse Monotetra
A Storm Approaches Over sea and land, bleaching sky,Endless chase this wind from heaven.Harvest moon, a fever struck sty.Broke and driven. Broke and driven. Written for dVerse. A poetic form developed by Michael Walker: Monotetra. Stanza Structure: Line 1: 8 syllables; A1 Line 2: 8 syllables; A2 Line 3: 8 syllables; A3 Line 4: 4…
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Here
Here I belong to thesesmall latitudes andlongitudes.This is home.My familiar horizon.An easy refreshment.I have a house with its ownover-the-lane neighbours.It’s tame here.It’s real.Occasionally monotonous.And I’ve decidedthat this is as faras I wish to go. Written to prompt: Fandango’s One Word Challenge (“include Real”) Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay and #FOWC on Twitter ©Misky 2021
It's Still Life 