Tag: AI Digital Art
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2 September: A Haibun for Unicorn Challenge
And Here’s the Rub … Somewhere between the bridge over Rudder Creek, which Dad pronounced as crick, and the freshly pressed apple juice stand with that hard-to-miss red plastic apple on the roof, Mum starts telling Dad about the carny man who came visiting yesterday – he wanted to sharpen her knives, Mum said, and…
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1 September: A Return to Where
A Return To Where I’ve seen the mystery of lifeleave me in drips and drabs. I’ve seen ancient redwoods dropits needles like komorebi light. I’ve shed my body heat for cirrusclouds. I’ve wished on stars, and watched a harvest moonbleed its way across the sky. I am innumerable atoms,I am decomposing chemistry, and it doesn’t…
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31 August: A dVerse Ought Not Haibun
Ought Not I’m not sure about the year, but it was the summer that Mum painted the porch stairs emerald green. Greener than jade. And shiny enamel. I thought it looked like Amazon tree frog green. And she hung eight baskets of trailing fuchsias and forget-me-nots from the eaves off the back porch, as if,…
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30 August: dVerse Blue Moon
It’s Pulling On You A cold ember moon in my hand on this lyrical night, waxing and waning, worn, torn, and heavy twice in August. It lingers and hangs in its moonlight benediction. Only once in a blue moon, they say, and should I forget, that moon’s a kind of grief from the genius of…
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29 August: Published by Visual Verse
Much To My Unsuppressed Delight Sunday was with Granny. Grandpa lived there too,but he was as dependable as weather, a shiftless man, claimed Granny, but I liked him,and I adored the white rabbits that lived in old apple crates with chickenwire doors.I fed them carrots straight from the garden while Granny had one stewing with…
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28 August: The Goatherd #6
And After A Time She settlesin a small thatched hutwith a platformto sleep … no need for more.Her days are an evened echo of walking. Goats. To water.To food. Some days come disguised,as a volcano, or a caged hawk,or a jungle,or purified water … or freedom. One day she’ll…
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27 August: Harps of Glitter
Harps of Glitter And they poured into the church,the fair,the rich and young,the faultless and proud. And the preacher stood and said,Let us now sing from page 254. And for all their language, quipsand babble, and harps of glitter,all they could managewas to hum. Written for Ragtag Daily Prompt “Hum”, some artwork is created using Midjourney AI,…
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27 August: Amorphous
Amorphous She remembers the summeras hot andprickly dry. She spent most of itlicking moistureon her lips, and then her upper lip peeled,cracked, and bledas she gnawed the twiggish twisty bits with her lowerteeth. And then the summer was gone.Her memoriesfaltering, a penny for your porous,amorphousthoughts. And she stares off, wondering what was she thinkingwhile her…
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25 August: The Goatherd 5
5. When He Sees Her Her donkey shifts its weight, and stares.A man. Lean and tall. Long limbs. A facewith lines as deep as a flash flood’s gulley.The man studies the woman milking his goat. She’s lean and tall. Long limbs. A face thathe can’t read. She rises from her haunches,and licks the last trace…
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24 August: A Haibun
To Feed A man and a woman sit in chairs that through the passing of time have become his chair and her chair. The room is a warm beige colour, the name of which neither of them can recall, but it was a popular colour a few years ago. They both have the same colour…
It's Still Life 