Tag: Poetry
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AprPAD — Day 19
Peanut Butter and Bananas when you’re seven years oldwith an upset tummy, and your father makes youa peanut butterand banana sandwich, he should expect you’ll throw upall over the kitchen table. Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge for April 2026. Prompt word: Family. Not all images are created using Midjourney, but all writing is my…
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AprPAD — Day 18
Myth and Mythology we live in his mythology,his bread. our butterspread thinner. a safer world by his myth.but mythsneed memory.kneading. daily, another mythology.by morning —forgotten. hands, praise.hands wring. ‘what am I supposed to do?’about this manwho might be Nero. Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge for April 2026. Prompt word: reconsider Not all images are…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
Where is the Old Woman?” …the cat demands,pacing the length of the kitchen,tail held high like a sceptre of injustice. “She is late.My bowl is half-empty.My sunbeam is un-warmed.This is negligence.” The crow, from the fence, offers:“Perhaps she’s writing poetry?”The cat scoffs.“Poetry doesn’t fill stomachs.” “No shit!” agrees the robin. Just then—the back door opens.There…
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AprPAD — Day 17
Thoughts on the Way to the Garden Centre and again —that ringing.ears. lyrics?what lyrics, there aren’t any. still,something keeps timejust out of reach. no source.no voice. only the senseof being addressed. it comes and goes —a wordalmost remembered. I don’t follow it. but it follows. faint as breathat the edge of hearing. not sound,not silence…
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AprPAD — Day 17
At the Window, Late there’s something in the glass — not outside,not in. a shapethat moveswhen I don’t. I look straight at it,nothing. look away,there. again. it could be reflection.but of what? the room behind medoesn’t hold that outline, and the garden,too stillfor that kind of shifting. light changes it.or makes it. I can’t tell.…
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AprPAD — Day 16
Eyes Closed, Garden sensory mapping it’s a new way of seeing.eyes closed. flagstones, rough through the soles.the first before the first is loose.then three.then level — eight even paces.four steps up.grass. lavender, a breath from my right,held high. the birdbath beyondfuller than yesterday.rain speaks in levels. I map the morning in scent:apple blossom; April wind,Cox…
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AprPAD — Day 15
A CHILD OF DRYADS she faces stormslike rigging in a north wind stillcalmcloth drawn taut she watches waves water that oncedragged her under she remembers the taste the sky above it bitter, unmoved dragons in the water —white-scaled, pebbles gaspinginto mist she knows what lives below the wavesbreaks on shore and keeps her footingwhere the…
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AprPAD — Day 14
Day 14: write a poetry form and its anti-form (I chose poetry form: haiku 5-7-5 and reverse haiku 7-5-7) Haiku:hidden from my viewhoofbeats stitch the morning air sunlight listens in Reverse Haiku:ghost hooves, hear them echoingthrough the falling hushwhere only dawn dares to rise Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge for April 2026. Prompt word: form…
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AprPAD — Day 13
The Problem That Was Never Yours she typed into the darkand sent it to my door what’s your problem? three wordsthat weigh too much I could have caught the rockthrown it back instead I don’t have a problembut it seems you do enough my grandmother taught mehow to stop the first stone refuse the target…
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1304: The Liturgy, Part 8
Liturgy for the Mechanical DarkNight on the Rhône, Half Light and Awake I. The Weight of Sound Sound has become a weight.Not noise—noise is fleeting:a shout, a clatter; this thingshuffles marrow in bone. This is weight:the engine’s pulse hammering my bonesuntil sleep feels mechanical,a function rather than a rest. Lanterns shake in their brackets.The floor…
It's Still Life 