Tag: Poetry
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Day 1 Poem-a-Day Challenge
A Month of Writing Negative Space Poetry II. 1.11.26 (draft) not a breath, norcrisp breeze, yet flurriesof leaves escape the gripof branches. Add grass clippings to them, I tell him,the roses will thank you in the spring. Written for Writer’s Digest NovPAD Chapbook Challenge. Day 1: fresh. ©Misky 2006-2026. Scomtoma is a partially diminished or…
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0111: Samhain
Air Won’t Hold Her this air won’t hold leaves,it is to watch a thousandsouls falling. wind.unstitched. I am allof my ancestors. it is as she said,to hold darknessis your last veil. this is the lastof eight days, of Samhain. I remember the yearit snowedon Samhain, the dark arms of treeswidespread. I walked in my footstepsback…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat Reads Proudhon (Or: An Anarchist’s Dilemma at the Window) The cat is sprawled across a stack of borrowed philosophy, “What Is Property” One paw rests on a particularly underlined passage:“Property is theft!” “Finally,” the mutters cat,“a human who understands.” He looks around the room:at the cushion he’s claimed,at the sunbeam he’s monopolised,at the…
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Stream of Consciousness
Don’t Swallow Your Chewing Gum (in the style of James Joyce’s Molly Bloom’s interior monologue) Woke from a dream those sounds of late night coming in through the cracked window coldish air and a cat prowling the street its voice tightening up into an air-raid siren like what we had on top of my elementary…
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26.10: The Liturgy
Liturgy #12 for the Name She Has Never Heard(or for the toast burnt twice, and the ring that tells a stranger’s story) I. The Lock She Does Not OpenThe conservator’s voice stays with her.Do not open it, not yet, not like this,and so she does the hardest thinga curious woman can do. She protects her…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Grimalkin(Or: A Philosophical Pause Before Sardines) The old woman holds her head in her hands,as if gravity might roll away with it. The cat looks out the window,places one paw delicately against the glasslike a tiny, furry philosophercontemplating the infinite. “Look, Old Woman,” he says,“it’s autumn.It’s too early to be…
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24.10: Stream of Consciousness
It’s stormy. Windy. Rainy. Well, windy is putting a British edge on the word; it’s 75mph gusts and 50mm of rain in twelve-ish hours or so, rain going sideways, upwards occasionally by the look of it, although technically I suppose that’s still downwards eventually, everything comes down eventually, except perhaps petrol prices — not my…
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21.10: dVerse Haunted
Two Poems for the Rain Woman I. Rock-Steady Ice Rock-steady ice.That is the precise truth of her.Not a storm that rages,but a glacier that’s settled in the marrow.The rain inside is ancient, patient,frozen at its core.She is not haunted.She is holding a winterthat no spring can reach. II. The Weather Within The sky is mute,…
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19.10: dVerse Quadrille
A Man with Moonlight she hums sounds of sleep,soothes her child as she observes — behind screened windows,blotched yellowed-whiteby the moonon the gated garden wall, a manwalking in the moonlight. alone. and in her loneliness,she wonders whatthoughts and hungercross his mind. Written for dVerse Poets, a quadrille of 44-words including the word ‘screen’. Some images…
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19.10: The Liturgy
#11 Liturgy for the Advice You Did Not Want(for the wisdom that arrives disguised as a suggestion) I. The Voice That Speaks Softly The advice came quietly,as a suggestion,offered with the lightnessof someone who knowsyou will not listen at first. It was wise,it settles like a stonein quiet water. But you did not want it,because…
