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Ekphrastic: Saint on the Half-Hinged Shingle
The Half-Hinged Shingle in Hunters in the Snow He’s a saint, and dances like a tree frog, heedless merriment as it’s raining on his head, and the cold mist always riseslike morning prayers to heaven. His is a small story of simple words, drawn on an half-hinged shingleabove the tavern door. He’s a godly soul,…
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A Stroll and a Bitch
A Stroll and A Bitch It’s back to the Victorian era.We meet up with friendsfor a “Covid-safe” stroll and a bitch about everything. I’m singing at a funeral tomorrow, she says, and can you believe it, my kid is 2-years old today. Two years locked down with a baby. I can’t breathe if I think…
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Miz Quickly’s Titles: Eagle
There’s an Eagle Sitting on the Marlboro Sign I’m at a loss with all these signs.I need some Left Right signs.This Way Up. Down. Yes. No. I always think: what would Dad do. I still talk to you, you know,like you’re a fixed star,still governing my lifeand direction. And yes, that’s me occasionallyscreaming at the…
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Reflections on a Corner
A Stream of Consciousness – Reflections on a Corner Dad said, the piano goes in the basement. It was the noise – the rhythmic low notes banging like enemy fire against the bulkhead. We were kids; mum explained it was to do with the war. What war, we asked. We were kids –…
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Miz Quickly’s 17 December: Pretend
Just Pretending to Write It’s cold enough to snow,but there’s not a cloud in the sky.It’s like trying to find your own poetic voice – you can writeon almost anything, but youcan’t pretend you have a pen. Written for For Miz Quickly’s “Pretend” prompt. © Misky 2021, shared with #apoemaday on Twitter. Photo by Julia Joppien on Unsplash
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Miz Quickly’s 16 December: More Titles
Winter Sunrise Climbing on a Warm Fragrance I rise to the smell of coffee,and pull back the curtains. It’s a sight I’ve known since I was young,that thin winter light of dawn’s sunrise. Every day it improvises. Mist muzzled into the forest roots.Clouds with a rhythm…
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Miz Quickly’s 16 December: Love Poems Suck Lemons
A Love Poem Isn’t About feeling someone else’stongue in your mouth, or a quick around a bitof curvaceousness, or a rising desire or evensomeone’s fumey breath, but perhaps it’s aboutthe scent of rose water, or the memory of a day that linger like a first kiss, or waltzes, in-step withperfumed air, milky skin, mint ice…
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Miz Quickly’s 16 December: Two Titled Pieces
I.Anatomy of a Wave – On Crests of a Buoyant Hand Take yourself to the water’s edge,watch a wave bend and swell.Hear the bubbles and fizz, subtleand shining like mossy green. That curl of an uncertain geometry floating into a mindless fall,into the shape of hard steel bliss,into those cool silver-ish tones.…
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For dVerse Poets: Starlorn
Why I Miss My Sister Do you remember that summer at the lake,when we decided to sleep outsidebecause the house was too hot. And you say, Yes. Vaguely … and then you look away,up at the sky and the clouds,and you go quiet for at leasta whole long minute, and then you say, What about…
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Miz Quickly’s 13 December: Light
And There Was Light I.On a Limb December’s grey,an unchanging backgroundagainst spinning shapesthat cling to the wall –reflections off CDstied to the neighbour’s cherry tree. A magpie settles on a limb,pecks at the disc,this ghost of a winter leaf,and waits forsomething to happen. II.In A Moment I am sipping coffee that’s gone coldwhilst…
