Tag: Poetry
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8 Sept: Starvow – The Liturgy
19 of 27 – Liturgy for Starvow: The Silent Exchange I. The GreetingNot a vow spoken,but a pulse exchanged —a light in an east-facing window,answeredby a presence in an old oak tree. It is a dawn ritual with no name,a breath they lend to silence,a space made sacredonly because they both tend it. II. The…
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5 Sept: dVerse Cinquain
Silent Sky (a cinquain poem) So still,the heavens wait —a canvas drawn with hush,its blue skin pulled across the day.Don’t breathe. A cinquain, syllable count 2-4-6-8-2, written for dVerse Poets . Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without…
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6 Sept: MicroDosing 60µg
The key turns.The lock clicks. The air inside smells of much-loved books and lemon soap she used this morning. Her shoulders drop, a weight she hadn’t realised she was carrying — her handbag slides to the floor. “I’m home,” she whispers to the quiet, and the quiet, for the first time all day, whispers back.…
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2 Sept: dVerse Haibun
The Holding Breath To the 204 men and boys of the 1862 Hartley Colliery disaster — their breath drifts still, coal-dust caught in morning’s blacklung frost. They crawled into the narrow seams where lanterns barely held back the dark, where the air strangled itself thin. We remember the steel-to-stone rhythm of their pickaxes, the hunger-click…
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2 Sept: Mirebright – The Liturgy
18 of 27 Mirebright – The Poem – The Unaccounted-For I. The GlintNot a star —but a false dawn where hope dies,a light that clings to an unrepentant cheeklike a child’s kiss on a rusted blade.You hope anyway.You love despite. Mirebright is whispered even when no one’s listening. II. The Hollow ChestCompassion aches here —not…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Singing Lessons (An Ode to Avian-Aided Ambition) The robin starts with scales,light as dandelion fluff —“Try trilling deeper,” she chirps.“Like you mean it.Like you own the fence.And the worm beneath it.” The cat responds in C major,with a hint of threat:Mee-YOWL-ooooww… Is that art or a cry for help?The line is thin. The…
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31 Aug: MicroDosing 90µg
Passing Days The days bled together,like watercolour sagging in the rain.She tried to tack them down —a mug’s steam,the slant of three o’clock light —but they wriggled free,slippery as minnows. What lingered was only sensation:a Tuesday’s ghosted-warmth,a Thursday’s pale chill.And the uneasy thoughtthat time was being smuggled forward,hand to hand,like contraband in plain sight —precious,…
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29 Aug: II. The Painter
II. The Painter (A Six Sentence Poem) Into the paint —the brush, blind-eyed.His shoulder tenses:a memoryof a burdennot yet carried. The bristles sweep —a long, aching curve of roadbeneath a skyhe’s never seen. It is longing.It is goodbyeto someonehe has not yet met. He steps back, opens his eyes —there it is: his future, peggedand…
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27 Aug: Where You From, Then?
Where Are You From Then? Aura — Episode One (A Six Sentence Story) Päiviö Clartz had lived above the Co-op for three winters, long enough for most people to forget he wasn’t from here — except when he spoke, or cooked fish in the mornings, or wore that thick Nordic jumper with snowflake shoulders and…
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26 Aug: dVerse Quadrille
Tumultus Mus Musculus (44-Word Quadrille) The mice throw a rumpus —wearing tiny top hats,and drinking whiskey from thimbles.They’re spinning a walnut, and waltzing on tables. But —are those cat’s eyesgleaming like diamondsthrough keyholes? Dance on, my darlings.Dawn wants to steal your shoes. Kim invites us at dVerse Poets to write a Quadrille #230 about a “rumpus” Some…
It's Still Life 