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Miz Q 31 May
Are You Waiting for Me Sunrise seeps through the slats of the fence. Shakes the leaves into dancing silhouettes. Shuffles shadows like playing cards. We all fall down. My ear against the pillow. Heaven fills the other. Thunder rolls — all those souls are clapping. Are you waiting for me in heaven? What…
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More Than a Voice
More Than A Voice A Trill. A B-flat shrill. There’s a blackbird in the laurel bush. Sing to me your birdsong. Blackbird with an orange beak warbling to the world. Here. There. Everywhere. I hear your voice over the traffic, the dog’s bark from next door, the girls playing up the street, the ice cream…
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Where the Story Took Her
Where the Story Took Her I once heard of a girl who was so high above us that she was her very own bright moon. Her face was her pride, and her laughter star-sparkling. I heard that she was all legs and luxury, lips like plums, and eyes of lavender-lilt. She wore pastel-pink shorts, and…
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for Twiglet #177
Sing a Song Remix there, upturned on the grass, Sing a song of sixpence, rests an empty nest, A pocket full of rye, a broken speckled egg, Four and twenty blackbirds maybe a sparrow, or a wren, Baked in a pie. For Twiglet 177 Vacant Nest and Miz Q. ©️ Misky 2020
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dVerse Haibun
There’s this painting by Piet Mondrain, reminds me of PacMan. Makes my think the whole image should move in robotic jerks and jolts. Sounds effects, too. Tic.Tic.Tic.Tic. Inching left, right, up, down. Tic.Tic.Tic.Tic. Or maybe more like Space Invaders. I played that on a tiny black & white telly at my cousin’s house. He had…
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I Deserve a …
I Deserve … … a bit of magic. Lemonade with ice cubes diamond-clear. Its liquid sparkling like moonlight in a tumbler so cold that the glass sheds crystal tears on its surface. I deserve to be a great river that’s joined at the hip to earth, and daylight shall render me into a wandering shadow.…
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20 May: dVerse Poetics
I Escaped … into greens. into shaded limbs of silent sage and noisy limes. beech buttressed the sky, and I was lost, stitched into queen anne’s lace and elderberry creams. scent played me, teased as scotch pine warmed the air. I escaped myself, if just for that moment. for dVerse “a portal” ©️…
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Quadrille #104
These Mad Mad Days The sun shifts over these mad mad daylight hours. Lovers never long for morning, the sun rising, thirsty as salt. Hot. No use asking why fire is hot. And I keep thinking, I’ll go fishing; that’ll fix all this. Life is an invisible scar. for dVerse Quadrille 104 “Fix”…
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For Sunday Whirl #456
A Quietness Inside Did you hear shy bluebells ring? A song that begins, and dies again. Breathe white on white, frozen air and snow as a gust slips in, kills your wick and flame. Droplets of nectar is a bee’s liberty, let reason be my thirst and rhythm. Bees meet under the scent of lilacs,…
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18 May 2020
Originally posted on The Journal: Two American Sentences, and One That’s Not I. These things that fill my hours, these thinking things are my hope and heaven. II. I have rendered myself into sweat and spit; a pimple and a hump. III. I‘ll remember January for an open window on the rising sun, and a…
It's Still Life 