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03.05: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and a Rebellion of Tenderness the old woman with no cathas a pocket full of seeds. she plants themin the cracks between bricks,in every unread newspaper,in every unanswered letter. she’ll let them split the sidewalks,she tells the crow. she knows how magic works—it’s just like a weedthat someone decides to love. it…
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02.05: A Six – Brigid’s Journal
Brigid’s journal unfolds now beneath the Caledonian pines, where light moves differently, and the loch keeps its own counsel 1 May: Brigid and the Crow of Glen Affric Glen Affric, Scotland – The sun turns its back on the hills as Brigid presses open a new page in her journal, and she writes: do not…
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2 May: dVerse First Line Poem
The Trees Are Whispering Your Name “The trees are coming into leafLike something almost being said—” Like the pause before I love you,Like the breath before a sob,Like the way your hands hoveredOver my ribs— Are you sure you want all this light?The trees unfold,Show me their green ink blots:Here’s where she laughed in her…
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1 May: Ten Things of Thankful
In no particular order: You are invited to the Inlinkz link party! Click here to enter https://fresh.inlinkz.com/js/widget/load.js?id=c0efdbe6b4add43dd7ef Welcome to TToT (Ten Things of Thankful) blog hop! Join bloggers from all over the world as we come together to share those things that we are thankful for. Ten is in the name, but no one is…
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01.05: Three Line Thursday
Orange whispers on forgotten steel,time’s slow kiss, a bleeding bloom—the bridge between metal and memory. Written for Three Line Thursday “Rust”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not…
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1 May: A Thursday Door
With weathered panels and a faded, dignified face, this old wooden door stands like a guardian of forgotten stories, its peeling paint and scarred surface whispering memories of countless comings and goings. The ornate carvings and the rusty knocker sit like a brooch on a well-worn coat. Despite its age, the door holds its ground…
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01.05: Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Adopts a Mould Culture (For Research, Obviously) The petri dish gleams on the windowsill—a swirling nebula of sentient blue-green,thriving on neglectand last Tuesday’s lasagna sins. The cat, honorary Head of Microbial Astronomy,presses its nose to the glass:“Fascinating. It has your eyes.”The old woman nods.“And your manners.” The crow, MSc (Disaster Studies &…
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30.04: A Six – The Book of 27
3 of 27: Threshgold – a Colour once felt, not seen—the terror just before hope Content Warning: This post discusses topics including suicide. Reader discretion is advised. If you are feeling vulnerable, please consider whether you wish to proceed. The Colour Called Threshgold Her breath is steady, scarf tugged loose by the wind, and she…
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29.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Milk’s Mortality Crisis the cat paces before the fridgelike a wee, furry coroner,one paw pressed to the milk bottle’s pulse. “it’s clinging to life,” purrs the cat.“one more dawn, maybe two.”the old woman peers at the use-by date—smudged, dubious,possibly written in invisible ink. “it’s fine,” she declares.“time is a construct.also,…
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A Few Hours with Joe Bonamassa
Where music lives not just in the ears, but in the bones—sometimes shattering boundaries to write new stories within. Joe Bonamassa — Brighton Centre (27 April/25) Second row; first two seats on the left of the centre block—we’re close enough to see a trickle of sweat. The lights search the room, then settle on the…
It's Still Life 