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for PB Day 2
A Sonnet to a Lemon Drop It’s like this, I said, you know when you walk through Lynch Gate at St Nicholas’s church, with the old yew tree leaning toward you, and every parishioner for a 1,000 years is buried underfoot, and tombstones lean just like that yew tree, and you open those church doors, heavy…
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PB Day 1
A Spectre Mum was the space between fragile and forever, between fierce and a cheek-swept kiss. There was once a memory with her name, a spectre now. I heard it once, it tugged at my sleep, and then scattered off my fingertips when I woke. If I forget will you forgive me? I passed a shop window today. My world’s closed, windows soaped…
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for Twiglets #183
A Happy Poem I have theparaphernalia.the pen.the paper.the pencilwith no rubber erasure.write, I say.a happy poem.blank. paper.I look upand there you are.smiling. for Twiglets #183 We Romantics ©️ Misky 2020
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Sometimes a Girl Scout
A poem starting with a line from Geoffrey Philp’s A Fragment of the Quilt SOMETIMES A GIRL SCOUT Sometimes I wonder which badge Mum would’ve earned for raising me. What’s a mother to do with a child who’s a socialist, and anti-war, and says she’s a political dissident. Who took up smoking because shopsgave away…
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for Miz Quickly’s Pleasure
for Miz Quickly’s Pleasure. The postcard template nicked-off b’s blog many years ago.
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Miz Quickly’s Day 26
Sustain We are variants of voltage. Our only light. We touch. Lips. You taste tart. Shimmer sweet. You, my functional space. My transitory effect. We sustain air, and fall into variants of love. ©️ Misky 2020 with mention to THE METAPHYSICAL COUNTRYGIRL By Omar Pérez. Image by Filipe Almeida on Unsplash
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An Interwoven Cento Poem #2
A Cento Poem with Lines Interwoven from Song of Myself (1892 version) BY WALT WHITMAN and Baudelaire BY DELMORE SCHWARTZ I. When I fall asleep, and even during sleep, I see. Dance. Laugh. Sing. I hear a voice quite distinctly, voices speaking. Not words. Not music. Rhyme, and not even the best. Bare-stript phrases from…
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An Interwoven Cento Poem
A Cento Poem with Lines Interwoven from Song of Myself (1892 version) BY WALT WHITMAN and Baudelaire BY DELMORE SCHWARTZ Eddies of Wind When I fall asleep, and even during sleep, The sound of the belch’d words of my voice I hear, quite distinctly, voices speaking of the beginning or the end. Whole phrases. From…
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The Picnic Sonnet
The Picnic She doesn’t usually pack a pork pie to share, or a big wedge of cheddar and soda bread from the bakery, which she will let Jimmy think is homemade, unless he asks, and she wouldn’t usually pack two pickled onions, four gherkins, a large Scotch egg, ripe tomatoes and cucumber, or brown pickle…
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What Is it #4
A bit of fun with The Weekly Prompts site. Can you guess what it is? Here’s a full photo of it. Weekly Prompts What Is it Challenge ©️ Misky 2020
It's Still Life 