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dVerse: Shun Enu Prayers
Shun Enu Prayers I’m praying. It’s a nightly ritual. Like brushing my teeth, washing my face, pulling off my socks (right foot first). And it’s rained all day. A steady mist, it soaks into everything. Makes the air heavy. Makes my head heavy, too, my thoughts condense. There’s solitude in rain for good reason. And…
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Magnetic Poetry: “The Moaning Sausage”
I’ve been playing with Magnetic Poetry, thanks to De and Björn. Here’s my first attempt at one, and I have to admit that it’s addictive.
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Pressed Between Estop and Ethiopia
Pressed Between Estop and Ethiopia I’ve never heard a cuckoo sing. I lost that moment of spring to the big city, to its noise, and roar and smoke and feet, which might explain why I press flowers and leaves between unabridged dictionary pages, (usually between estop and Ethiopia) in weighty books and scrapped paper, and…
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Miz Quickly’s Dishing Out Words
A Disturbing Paragraph from a Housewife’s Ecstasies Crane fly on the wall licking at grease, and a blueberry pie cooling on the pine table, you know the one – it has the Queen of Spades folded into fours so it stays level, won’t rock, the one in that corner; that always seems empty of air.…
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12th Night
12th Night a red-handed wind carries that sort of crow-black heat. a curious quiet that’s always just off the boil. a rapt listener; devourer of flush and glow; delver into sweeps and swarms. grabs and gasps. your ear. your neck. your heart. boils your bones whilst painting shadows wherever there’s a vacancy. heat, just heat.…
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Being a Bit Backwards with Miz Quickly
Slips It’s all so odd, they thought, as if I were wasted scenery. Their failed passion. I was scuttled there for a while, my own narrative movement, and they looked at me like a foreign religion. You find that there’s nowhere to hide in an array of silence, like when Mum hid away all my…
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A Meter for dVerse
A Morning Walk on West Pier We walked the pier, that early day, Young boys with lines that begged for fish. We watched the pier splitting waves, Fair dawn so bright and dewy wide. To float a while on morning mists, Its gentle sighs and rippled swell, If just to lift its jealous veil. …
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Miz Quickly Celebrates Bloomsday
Bloomsday I’d triumphed over that hill, the one I could never manage when the weather welded my joints, and now I stood there in a cold squint of low setting sun. Directly south was Spain. East was France. West was home – but it’s a distance too far no matter how far away west is – there’s nothing…
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Collins Sestet for Poetic Bloomings
A Tale Without Title I’m held by the call of doves. Do they know the risks of love? Oh the stories doves could tell, the loss, the sorrow that befell a tender heart, a stoney fit, but that’s the nature of it. Cool-hearted, crystal kiss, love fell into dusk from skies above, his arms entwined…
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Recipe Swap with Miz Quickly
I. Not Quite Summer We launched into those days like uninterrupted pages, iced the sky blueberry and jalapeño hot, dipped our spoons into molten fudge on ice cream. And we were just warming up. II. Pickled No matter how you slice it it’s still a cucumber, and I feel as white and tender as those…
It's Still Life 