Tag: AI Digital Art
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7 June: For Twiglets #328
The Carp Not quite a lake but far more than a pond. Water’s so still you’d swear it was congealed. Sunlight splits through the density of it,reveals a sudden splash of silver scales. Boys. Young men. Grandfathers. They allwant to catch that fish. An age old carp, that’ll taste like fat-fried primordial mud. Written for Twiglet…
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2 June: Day 2 #theWildness
Day 2. Write a letter to plant A Letter to an Apple Tree Dear Apple Tree, Friend of mine, here you exist.You fill the air of this place with Your backstory, andDream premise. You are,when in bloom,You are not,when bare, and yet You exist for an apple.Such a pretty red thing, Destined for a flowery…
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23 May: dVerse Haibun Memories
Nap Time My head is sideways on the desk. My arm for a pillow. Eyes closed, says the teacher. I hear the school clock. Narrow white noise without a past tense. I watch the minute hand. It hangs still as the day. 1st grade. It’s nap time. The details are gone, but I remember without…
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13 May: Not Bothered
Not Bothered My neighbour just hurled herself into a taxi.Going on holiday. Somewhere warm, she says. I walk out the back door on to the patio. Into the rain. It’s mid-May, and too cold for bees. Apple treesare in bloom, but timing’s all wrong this year. That thin skin of vibrant green that comesat the…
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11 May: On the Edge of Clouds
On the Edge of Clouds It’s still the wild west out here,a flood of sins and nature’s laws.The sky is blue as the deep sea,the landscape’s prairie-blond,and straight as a bridge span. It’s as if you could sing out, andbe heard at the edge of clouds. Heard a dog down by the river again,… although…
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5 May: A Mouse’s Dream Diary
An Entry from a Mouse’s Dream Diary So it’s true. Mice do dream. Of drowning. A drowning dream. This is the season of water. Of fractious storms and troubled air. I run along the floor, pressing close to the skirting boards and wall. Avoiding wires and cords and shoes, baskets, books and magazines. Slipping under…
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4 May: A Cadralor Poem
A Few Thoughts After Lunch 1.There’s a bird by his foot. It doesn’t fly.It’s not asleep, and it doesn’t move.It waits for him to turn the soil,so it can peck at what’s trapped beneath. 2.The air is still as grey. Grey is never noticed.Invisible. Unseen as the back of a page.I remember the Grey Man.…
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12 April: dVerse Prosery
“The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart.” ~ from “Winged Words”, Valsa George You should’ve told me. Your first daughter. Eldest. The one you told, Watch over your little sister. You should’ve told me that you were dying. You should’ve known that I was not a fragile flower. My petals don’t fall…
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10 April: A Sea Shanty
A Sea Shanty (tune: What’ll We Do with a Drunken Sailor) To sea to see, today we’re goingMisty spray off the bow is blowingHeadlong in a wind, we’re knowingFish are few today Way hey and up we’re ridingSay hey and down we’re divingMake way our nets are flyingFish are few today. Written for NaPoWriMo Day…
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7 April: NaPoWriMo and RDP Day 7
On the Kitchen Windowsill There’s a finger-length silver shoe with a notch, it’s an ashtray but never used as such, and next to it a small terra cotta chicken with a wooden spoon protruding from the back of its neck, for salsa I’m told, bought it in Cartagena on a hot day after a miserable…
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