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22 January 2021
When We Were Young We’d runand ride the leaves, sing duetswith the breeze. We were luck, likeleprechaun green, and no thief of timeever intervened. Ekphrastic Poetry shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter © Misky 2021
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dVerse Prosery
Sometimes Sometimes weather flings itself in a tantrum at my feet. Such wild abandon in its reach. And sometimes I am lost in my own deep stare. Deep in the face of angry clouds that flood my sight, deep in rain punctuating the ground with broad, cursive raindrops. Sometimes the great bones of my life…
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20 Syllable Micro-Poetry
The Chills Deep inside a fever,he dreamt of a cold blind white place whereit was always winter. for @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter © Misky 2021
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dVerse “Personification”
You Will Know It Is Winter When you step outsideinto blind white,and cold comes at you, not as a chill, but as a wall of blinded colour, and frost squealsunder the bite of your boots, and every step fracturesthe sound of snow falling, you will know it is winter. for dVerse “Personification” © Misky 2021. Header image…
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for Twiglet #209
The Screen Door Slammed Behind Him He left the neatly mown rural grass,and the whispers outside along withthe crows calling from their nests. Then he turned left into the kitchen,and threw his coat over the doorknob. There used to be a peg to hang coatsbehind the door, but it fell out, in muchthe same way…
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dVerse Object Poem
This Is Not A Man this is not a man,this is morning’s image.daybreak.a robin’s song. sweet tea.this is a sea blue wave.old spice.this is the first kiss of the day. this is a shoelace,tied to my skin.a mortal eye, a pen of truth.night’s curtain. this is not a man.this is my husband. for dVerse: write…
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Double Quadrille (88 Words) for dVerse Poets
Bruegel Narrates Hunters in the Snow Down by the stony roadwhere the trees growsnowy twigs, and the frozencreek babbles in its bafflingstring-like voice, and tinyflickering candles defythe winter gloom from thatchedroof houses, and the north windscrapes an alto low moan from God’s own rudder-spiked mountains that spill chills on the good brothersof the monastery, whereonly…
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9 January 2021: Frog Talk
Frog Talk it’s that sound thatimitates a voice that frowns,or maybe it just sings out noise, if anything at all. shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter © Misky 2021
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The Breaker Boys of Pit #9
The Breaker Boys at Pit #9 This is the way of it, dust in his lungs. He spends the nightdrunk on boyhood and early old age, falling to pieces, like astone under a hammer. photo US Library of Congress, Flickr Commons, Public Domain, “Breaker Boys at Pit #9” Pittston, PA, circa 1900. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay…
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Redacted Plucking At Another Daisy
Plucking at Another Daisy That curiously shrill voice.A peacockpulling long, nervous fingers. She was reckless.So reckless. After all thathissing tragic whisper.And laughing at beginning; the best ending. Plucking another daisy. Source: “The Picture of Dorian Gray”, by Oscar Wilde. Gutenberg Project, Release Date: October 1, 2008 [EBook #26740] http://www.gutenberg.org/files/26740/26740-h/26740-h.htm written for Poets & Storytellers…
It's Still Life 