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Stream of Consciousness Saturday: I Smell Saltwater
I smell saltwater, and just like that, I’m 10-years old again, and we’re driving past that cranberry processing plant where berries roll and float in salty pools, the tidal waters renewed twice a day, and we’re a mile or so away from the marina where once a year Dad goes deep-sea fishing. That’s our summer…
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A Few Photos From The Cotswolds
A few photos from our trip to the Cotswolds. If you view the photos through the slide show, give them a bit of time to load. ©Misky 2021
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11 September: Somewhere #socs
Somewhere That’s the way of things, isn’t it,the past.Always waiting there. It’s a long shadow, likeboarded-up windows to keep out the sun and salt air, or like cold rooms where youdon’t dare breathe becausethe air is damp and…
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dVerse Derivatives
It’s That Shade of Brown Again.It’s a rustling of memory. You bring me to this doorway,day after day, into our minutes. My dad, into dreams and dusk, and precise piles of crispy leaves.Our cat, a goat, and fertile land. A forest’s umbrage. Morning frost.Chocolate melting on my fingers. It’s a colour that can …
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8 September: 20 Pieces of a Poem
Day 6. The One Full of Contradictions If something has no name, then how do we know what it is, if it’s nameless. Ida’s Youngest was like one of those concrete noun things. Like a brick. Or a statue. The Big Bang. A thing on to itself. Himself being himself. And he called himself Effortless,…
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I Remember Pale Rain
I Remember Pale Rain The thistles have gone purple,spiny and tetchy,and the cosmos (I kid you not)are taller than the fence. I long for the scentof a bonfire and soft rainthat hisses at its embers. What’s happened to our rain?Soft English rain.It was perfumed, pale and translucent.Pinkish.Fragrant. This stuff is Bangkok…
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dVerse Quadrille #135
The Worst Parts The man she loves is dead,and left her a thorny heart.It’s torture. And so she knits. It numbs. It’s transcendental.Self-medicating. Melancholystitching a repeating groove. Her rhythm never judges –the needles know shedoesn’t want to move on. Written for dVerse Quadrille #135 “groove” . Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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6 September 2021: Secret
Tell Me a Secret This dayis attached to nothing, and it unleashes the nightlike dark hair. My hair was dark once,long ago, when branches were winterand secrets were shadows. Tell me a secret.I need something to keep. Photo by Nick Nice on Unsplash. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
