Tag: a.i.Art
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16 Sept: dVerse Prosery
Sulphur and Silence The city never learned how to be quiet — Elias liked it that way; the noise smothered his wife’s laugh. He sat in his worn armchair, the one she always called a mistake, watching the world blur past his third-floor flat. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes moved…
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16 Sept: Liturgy for Cindertide
The Book of 27, The 20th Glyph: Cindertide – Anger that forgot what it was fighting I. The First FlameIt begins sharp—a flash of fire with a name, a face, a reason.This is for the child I lost,for the cradle I never filled,for the syrup I will never pour.But fury is a poor craftsman.It builds…
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14 Sept: Mystical Sunday
Her Ink Bleeds (microdosing fiction in 50µg) Thunder never needsto shout,to linger.Some words roll lowfor days, lodgedand scrolled between yourribs and lung,until even your breath tastes of copper.The Old One knew this —she’d spent a lifetimecollecting echoesin inkwellsmade of hollowedbones. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT…
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13 Sept: Riding the Storm
Riding the Storm Storm drags the swamp,but that man won’t run.Barefoot in mud,and he glares at the skylike it owes him something. Cypress leaning close,gossiping in the shadows —thunder shakes whiskeystraight down his bones. There’s storm in his blood,hurricane in his breath —he was born to howldeep against the dark. And when the sky splits,when…
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12 Sept: The Women of Lafitte’s
A Short Story The Seamstress She leans into the clatter of the machine, foot steady, hands coaxing fabric through with a tenderness that belies the harsh steel needle. The air is heavy, close — thick with the sweetness of cotton dust and the metallic tang of oil. Outside, New Orleans sweats; inside, she stitches against…
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11 Sept: Ink In Thirds
100 Word Wednesday: prompt – image of an open palm The girl shrank from the compliment, as if it shone too bright. Her grandmother’s eyes — the weight of ages. “There once was a chalice,” she said, “cracked, scarred by flame, hollow with longing, and when the rain descended, the chalice turned aside. ‘I am…
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9 Sept: dVerse Quadrille
So Much Between So much dependson the moon’s pale hinge,the way night folds its dark velvetover the day’ssharp edges. So much is still heldin the soft hush —the unsaid,the almost, the breath betweengoodnightand a dream’sfirst tender sigh. This quadrille (44-words, sans title) is written for Dee’s dVerse Poets Quadrille #231 “much”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney…
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8 Sept: Starvow – The Liturgy
19 of 27 – Liturgy for Starvow: The Silent Exchange I. The GreetingNot a vow spoken,but a pulse exchanged —a light in an east-facing window,answeredby a presence in an old oak tree. It is a dawn ritual with no name,a breath they lend to silence,a space made sacredonly because they both tend it. II. The…
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5 Sept: dVerse Cinquain
Silent Sky (a cinquain poem) So still,the heavens wait —a canvas drawn with hush,its blue skin pulled across the day.Don’t breathe. A cinquain, syllable count 2-4-6-8-2, written for dVerse Poets . 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…
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6 Sept: MicroDosing 60µg
The key turns.The lock clicks. The air inside smells of much-loved books and lemon soap she used this morning. Her shoulders drop, a weight she hadn’t realised she was carrying — her handbag slides to the floor. “I’m home,” she whispers to the quiet, and the quiet, for the first time all day, whispers back.…
It's Still Life 