Tag: Poetry
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AprPAD — Day 3
Day 3: Open the Sky she opens the skyuntil it spills stars. opens her mouthbefore the storm arrives takes it inrain, distance, thunder, takes a pagewhere nothing shows writes until the air shifts a silence that opensand breaks spitting out rainand stars Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge for April 2026. Prompt word: open_(blank)
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0504: A Cantata
A Cantata Speak to meof green, she said. I said —vertigris, crushed mint,a willow’s yawn,sap rising, a celloin a maple’s veins. Hear it — bird-staccato,crow’s low oboe through the breezein polished bark. Breathe it — fern,grass bladesscissoring light, pine resinhumming slow gold. It waitsuntil you press your earto a leaf and listento what is leaving.…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
A Cupful of Moon The old woman with no catdigs where the crow dropped her house key,a hole just moonbeam-wide,neatly spooned between two failuresof courgettes. Her spade hits porcelain.Not bone.Not root.A teacup …a drowned saint,half-sunk in the drought-starved clay,glazed in sorrow and stained by Earl Grey. The crack in its sidesings in a language of…
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AprPAD — Day 01
1 Day: Rapeseed Blooming in an Open Field an arrow of sunor that yellowcareless as fire in dry grass its strength buriedin twisted roots blossoms pelting the skyand not asking each seed a throatbreaking open the field risingnot holybut louder than prayer Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge for April 2026. Prompt word: Seed
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0304: ST(R)AY – The Book
ST(R)AY This book is a meeting place. Black-and-white film photographs by Nick Maroudis sit alongside poems by Marilyn Braendeholm, each page holding a small moment of attention. A dog crossing a road. A pause in passing light. A life moving quietly alongside our own. These are not stories of rescue or loss. They are simply…
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3103: dVerse Haibun
March is a mad hare in a fit. Wild, bounding, all elbows and interruptions. He sits in the sun until he remembers he prefers frost, then leaps up and overturns the day. “Change places!” he cries, though no one is sitting where they were to begin with. He pours tea into the wind, scolds the…
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3103: The Hinge
The Hinge That Forgot Its Door A hinge without a doorstill turns, not freely,not fully,but enough to remember. Two plates,a pin worn thin,holding to a purposethat no longer exists. It opens into nothing. Again.Again. A motion rehearsedlong after the meaninghas gone. Wind finds itand it answers,a small, obedient shudder, as if something unseenstill passes through,as…
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3003: The Six Liturgy
Liturgy for the Paddle Wheel — where old and new collide I. The Animal of Iron and BreathIt came up the Rhône like a great beast learning to speak.Pistons for lungs, smoke for voice,paddle wheels striking the waterwith the rhythm of a heart that never tires. We stood on the bank and watched it approach,this…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Studies Tai Chi(Or: The Slow-Motion Pounce) The Old Woman finds himin the middle of the sitting room rug,moving with a slowness usually reservedfor glaciers or drying paint. One paw lifts,hovers,descends—as if placing it on the very heartbeat of the earth. “What,” she asks,“are you doing?” He does not look up.“Tai Chi walking.It is…
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2303: The Liturgy
Liturgy for the Confluence(where two rivers meet and the world does not) I. The MeetingThey do not ask permission, these waters:the Saône, thick with silt,the Rhône, clear and urgent,driving south. At the narrow tip of landthey arrive still separate,dark and light,slow and swift, then lean togetherand go on. No treaty.No vow.Only force. II. The SurfaceFrom…
