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Ars Poetica Views Over the Marstal Bugt
Ars Poetica Views Over the Marstal Bugt A poem is sitting on this bench It’s mostly green. Except for Seagull guano Looks Ars Poetica. A poem needs strategic placement. A swan in the reeds. Two blackbirds in the elm tree. A poem is a breeze in my right ear. A poem is a ferry crossing.…
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Miz Quickly Day 13
A Prayer To you, and you and him and her, to them and those that I do not know, to those who’ve passed and those yet to come, to you, and you, I bid you peace. for Miz Quickly: Day 13 ©️ Misky 2019
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Miz Quickly Day 10
It Takes One to Know One There’s a woman who’s watching flashes of gold koi in a pond. They swarm and nibble cubes of bread that she offers. And the water hums and vibrates. She has that smell of poetics about her. Not flowery. More like fried onions. It settles and seeps in deep. Takes…
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Flash Fiction Prosery
Flash Fiction: Prosery 144 words Dead I am dead. I don’t know the how or the why of it. Or even the when of it. Details. Details. These things are unimportant. That information is in the past, it’s for the living to unravel, they want to know how it happened, they need the science of…
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Double Quadrille #81
A Dragon’s Dream I’m dwarfed by mountains rising from the shore. I’m watched over by the moon. My centre point in the sky. Watch me. I can fly. Milky clouds stretch like a python in the night, and I walk warm shallows of waves that recoil at my touch. I can fly. The sun rises,…
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Refrains
From One Refrain to the Next Back then, when I lived life as if it were a song, when each minute was a note, each day its refrain, when a rude suggestion could make me blush red, back then I thought I’d be content to reach 50, maybe die blowing out my birthday candles. Back…
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PB’s Exercise #2
FOR PB’S BUILDING POETRY EXERCISE #2 1. A proper walk requires a red flannel shirt. The colour of iron rust. Or a strawberry stain. 2. My feet scuff through autumn leaves. My shoes lift dust from dust. 3. Old Myths and a Long Thirst And it’s a lie that a pebble quenches thirst. Tie a…
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dVerse Observations
SHELLING PEAS The monotony of midday summer heat flattens my thoughts. Spreads them thin. I take a sip from a tall glass, ice cubes clink and ring like wind chimes. The sky is the colour of Dad’s blue eyes, and I’m not going anywhere today. My back, up against the sun. It’s sticky sweet on…
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dVerse Ghazal
I. IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS THAT STIR A STORM Like those things that make us smile. Like life’s annoyances, too well we know. You hold your finger, crimson bubbling, perhaps, you say, I should slice the tomatoes. I adore cabbage creamed and parsleyed, you want brown gravy and new potatoes. I prefer soft-edges and floppy…
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for Wednesday Muse
The Night the Sky Turned Lilac And then the sun set. It bit the horizon, and disappeared into a run-on-sentence. Sometimes, your brain won’t shut off. The date. The time. Nope, I really can’t remember. I could, if I tried, piece it all back together. Diagram that entire day when she died. Sometimes, it just…
It's Still Life 