-
for Wordle #339
It’s the Way of Bruised Flowers Between dreams and death’s sleep, between winter’s rustling reeds, I heard the hollow sound of hunger. I fought the urge to shout at bearded madness, or hissing vespers and endlessly confess to boundless wind. Memory is sand. Stormy. Fleeting. It’s the scent of damp iron. Lonely as wind. I…
-
for Ink In Thirds – TLT
Descent into a Very Short Story There, alone in our moonsnatch valley it’s picture-perfect, be it on canvas, where rain falls, liquid as cruel sighs. for Three Line Thursday, three lines max 10 syllables per line. The word this week is “Alone”. Image is from Unsplash by Peter Hammer.
-
Red Wolf Prompt 362
The Bones of Sickness Her complexion is gusty grey. She’s the face of rooted weariness and boredom — the bones of sickness. She closes her eyes on her own froth, darkness filling her ears as she sleeps with captive shadows. Sickness is a dark strife of crumbling candles. Her lustre is uncoupled, a stammering pale…
-
for dVerse Artwork
Under a Wrinkled Sky The night sky wrinkled between the stars, a slow procession, that cat and that elephant. The cat, it sat, ignoring it all, as all cats do, and the elephant, drumming the wooden boat with its weighty foot, and shiny tusks of brassy bold against the midnight black – it breathed, it…
-
Twiglet #63
13.02.18 – 21 Syllables The unread green of winter’s garden, waits. Stony, cold as iron. Still, and often white. Twiglet #63: Stone-Still
-
dVerse Quadrille #50
Trees Amongst the Forest So that’s what you meant when you said, Welcome to the Forest — but I only know the chorus. Never learned the whole song. The trees turned, murmured unearthly tones, Does she burn as we do, they breathed. I never learned the whole song. dVerse Quadrille #50 “Murmur”
-
For Sunday Whirl & RWJ
At Least for Now She folds sheets, snaps their rasping frozen weave against the gusty breeze. It’s hazy, monotonous work. This life is a poverty, likely a saint’s holy calling, but she keeps at it. At least for now. Life is a long twisted rope, so said her mother, and she’s glad for a warm…
-
09.02.18
A Siege of Shadows Over my shoulder, a forever glance. I’m a long eclipse across my shadow. A millstone cloud, a blame of feelings. A shadow’s breath with happy noises. I understand randomness more than I understand myself. Gentle thief of solitude, I feel your kinship. I don’t blame your morning to night changeability. We…
-
for Three Line Thursday
For Three Line Thursday: “Vinyl”. Constraint: 17 words Over-Easy I. She sways to songs, sheets of sound, pendulum swings, vinyl round, heels tap as her handbag swings. II. Saw a mummy in a foetal curl, skin like vinyl Naugahyde, the colour of my leather sofa.
-
dVerse Does Pentimento
A Slow Disappearance We all shuffle along to the weight of delusions. There are days when I feel young. Beautiful. Until I look in the mirror. Beautiful view, you say, watching snow flurries spin across the sea, swallowed into cold cusps of waves. I can’t compete with nature. I remember my first kiss; I closed…
It's Still Life 