Tag: nature
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04.03.22 First Daffodil Opened
The Rain Has Gone . . . see the daffodils,morning light shining through them. And there it is.Yellow. Bright as an egg yolk.The colour of ripe wheat. El Dorado. Daffodils are cherubs.Spring lambs. A child’s bright face.Tell us a story! Tell us a story! It’s a colour somewhere betweena blossom and a breeze. Yellow was […]
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24.02.22 A Choka Poem
Write Me a Silver Lining The turn of a wordthat ploughs deep as the note ofsharp-toned larks, that word, that coldlike Rostock winters,but we still so love to watchthe breeze writing on birch leaves. Poetic Form: Choka (5.7.7/repeated) Photo by Simon Berger on Unsplash. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting #apoemaday on Twitter
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15.02.22 That Old Chestnut
That Old Chestnut It’s still gnarly-bare,no leaves yeton that old chestnut tree. It’s old.It’s arbitrary.Bang-bang out of order, like a belligerent judge,a rigid thought growing wherenothing near it is its equal. There’s nothing symmetrical about it.Hit by lightning years ago.Blew sprinters and branches aboutas if hit by God’s own fist. But that tree’s dying.Slowly.Bleedingfrom its […]
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18.02.22 A Storm Called Eunice
A Storm Called Eunice In front of me, a massacreby dark and crossed arms.But the garden will mendfrom this crystalline damage.From tempest spinning circles, and pitched storm spectres.Phantasm thrumming andrequiem squealing at windows.Our bare ghost trees cut fromcard are yelling and coughing.It’s carnage from a sunken sky. edited 18/2/22 10.43am Image The Storm by E Munch 1893. […]
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The Greens and Blues of It
The Greens and Blues of It Here I am wandering around,lost on oak-spiked hilltops, and admiring the serenityof sheep and shadows, and I am as surplus to this dayas ribbons are surplus to a gift. And until today, I’d never seena kestrel kill a rabbit. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting #apoemaday on Twitter
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9 October: A Strange Mildness
The Turn of the Season blessthis mess of leaves these trees rattle andturn to burnt bits leaves curl andclench to themselves crisp and brokenunder some version of sun that no longer warmsthrough glass panes. it’s a blinding opticof strange mildness Photo by Jason Mitrione on Unsplash. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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On the Edge of Invisible
On the Edge of Invisible Our street is quiet, on the edge of invisible. I. A magpie’s in the tree, it vanishesinto deep summer leaves,then […]
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An Apple for Miz Quickly
A Few Words About Malus Domestica ‘Discovery‘ the colour of its skin isan embarrassment’s blush.it bleeds rouge to its core. a stain straight into infinity,like some kind of forever.an unfathomable number. the bees,the moths,the maggots, they havetheir way with my apples, like bad boys who drink up,and leave without paying,staggering about on cider. but this […]
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Miz Quickly’s Prose Sonnet About Rain (draft)
An Untitled Prose Sonnet (for those using visual assistant/speech software) Rain divided the day in half. I usually write in the morning but I spent it idle, wandering wordless. You mowed the rug-thick grass, that robin following behind you, and you laughed at its flitty chirp, as it pulled over-fat […]
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14 May 2021: Frogs, a Squat, and Clouds
Frogs, a Squat, and Clouds because it croaked,I assume it’s a frog. bauble eyes spying the surface.it’s a peek and wet gush. it’s asstill and steady as a loaf of bread. frogs and bread, both a bit crusty,and given time, licked with green.an off-colour soaked tea bag sheen. it just squats there, a bubble risingfrom […]
It's Still Life 