Tag: NovPAD
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Day 02
MQ 02: Draft All Along the Watchtower a mother and her son hand in hand they stand in purple haze spilled from cars strewn on streets look right look left look right just focus, my son. and I hear Jimi Hendrix playing from the watchtower a mother and her son care and caution ever watchful […]
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Day 8: Hints of Something
Untitled She carried scent like a flower, as if garlands hung from her long slender neck. And she always carried a hankie – embroidered them with four-leaf clovers. Some with round red knots that looked like ripe apples. And she wore the same Harris tweed coat for years. It out lived her. NovPAD […]
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A Housewife in a Tweed Coat and Sensible Shoes
A Housewife in a Tweed Coat and Sensible Shoes She ponders herself in the hallway mirror, powders her nose, just a bit – doesn’t want to look like a flour bin. Slicks on Copper Penny lipstick, then rubs her lips together, spreading it thin and even. She puts on her best woollen hat, pushes a […]
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5 November 2018
An American Sentence – I apologise for not raking up the leaves as fast as they fall. NovPAD Day 4: An apology
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Day 30 NovPAD
Inside a Loop This day’s made of bits of us. My eyes have seen too much — but bless the child’s eyes that give life to words. My grandmother doused herself in lavender. A groping scent that still closes in on me like her heavy-breasted embrace. The air flashed of frost and snow this morning, […]
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Day 29 NovPAD
A White Demise I watched a single white star fall from the sky. Should I be sorry for your whitened demise, Falling through darkness, flowing like spilt milk. I shed tears for you. NovPAD Day 29: write a response poem. Form: sapphic ode 3×11+1×5
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Day 27 NovPAD
A Skirt of Sky (revised 1.12.17) I have a recurring dream. A red house with views that never end, and broad sky with a heart of wind, ventriloquist gulls pale as clouds, and for white, for bleached bone blurs of snow fine as endless dust. A Skirt of Sky I have a recurring […]
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Day 28.1 NovPAD
II. The Perils of Christmas Cards I won’t be dying today after all. I mean who dies from the edge of a creased paper, eh? Well, me. For a few diminishing heartbeats, when my tongue wouldn’t stop bleeding, and my lips dripped deep sunset red, and I dared my husband to ‘give us a kiss,’ […]
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Day 28 NovPAD
I. A Gecko and a Man in a Black T-Shirt I’m looking at a man wearing a thin, frayed black t-shirt. He has a whisper of white hair, wiry sideburns that sweep his shoulders whenever he nods his head. I can’t keep my eyes off his face; I keep looking at those sideburns. Whale baleen, […]
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Day 25 NovPAD
Quenched He swam. And sank. Swam against the devil. Sank like sunset, or a hole in a boat. His lungs on fire, and the sea swallowed him into its silence. Day 25: For today’s prompt, write a remix poem. I chose Day 21. Image from Unsplash
It's Still Life 