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dVerse 26 Aug 2020
I Kept the Music When I was not quite twelve,I stood in the middleof a green wheat field. And I heard music. I turned my hand flatagainst the breeze as itdrew notes from everythingit touched. Sometimes it was a small voice, ora burst of wild laughter,a nervous chatter. It was background music forwhite clouds chasing…
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dVerse Quadrille #110
Scrawling with Red Ink I’m writing with red ink.Shouldn’t do.It’s bad luck.Bloody ends badly. Look.Each letter slants right, like a drunk with spirits sloshingunder his skill. His keel’slisting. Speaksinsplinteredsyllables. Then falls on his bum ina scrawling scarlet haze. for dVerse Quadrille #110 “Bum” © Misky 2020 Featured image Banksy.
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Rewritten Character Study
Above and Below (Rewritten) A blackbird lands on the ground. It looks,not at the ground, but at the grass, andhears a worm slipping through the roots. But not just roots but musk scents of grubsand worms and maggots, a peaceful rotripe as perfume. But not just perfume. It’s a tune strumming through thatched roots,and a…
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Seeds for Poetic Bloomings
Seeds I.By winter,we pitched penniesat the wall.By summer,we ate watermelon,sat cross-legged,and spat seedsat the compost pile. Watermelons grewlike weedsin our garden. II.Years ago,a seedwas plantedin my head that occasional hungerwas foodfor the soul, and povertywas wealth. Nevertheless,I was still a wolfhowling at the door. for Poetic Bloomings “Planting a Seed” © Misky 2020
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Poetic Bloomings Character Study
A View Above From Below (Draft) A blackbird lands on the ground. It looks,not at the ground, but at the grass, andhears a worm slipping through the roots. Not roots, but slipping in the deep scent of grubs and worms and maggots, in rottingpeace that swims and ripens into loam from where I hear my…
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dVerse Clowning Around
Just Cousins We packed the car so nothing would rattle,that sort of thing set Dad’s teeth on edge,and we headed for our vacation. The lake. The lake, where you and I would go to hidefrom the little ones who wanted to stickto us like ceiling paint, where you’d drink beer, and I drank grape Nehi…
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Prosery: 18 August 2020
Mausoleum Marble My hand is on the oblong flatness of white marble where you sleep. Your death sleep. Your soul’s rest. And I expect the marble to be cold, but it’s not. It’s warm. Though not by the low November sun, perhaps it’s your eternal warmth. I think heaven opened its door when it saw…
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For Sunday Whirl
What Was A black fly walks across my glass,tastes where my lips just touched.It spies me, and thinks,Do you sting like a bee? Cast an eye across this garden.Vines limp as ghostly chains.Seeds blown away with the sand.Tomatoes hang like stunned eyes. Summer slipped away,just like rain through a net.Either too hot, or too cold,always…
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What Am I #2
It’s Saturday’s, and it’s time for the What Am I challenge at “Weekly Prompt”. Below is a small portion of a recent photo. Can you guess what the full photo shows? To reveal the photo, click the link below. To reveal the full photo, click here. Did you guess correctly? Photo © Misky 2020
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A dVerse Stream of Consciousness
Masking A new face mask arrived in the post today.It wasn’t a surprise – I ordered it online.Took a photo of it with my phone, andsent it to Alison, my next door neighbour. “Cute print!“ she WhatsApped me back. (she’s outside my shielding bubble; wehaven’t hugged in 6 months; we shoutback and forth over the…
