Tag: Poetry
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29 August: Published by Visual Verse
Much To My Unsuppressed Delight Sunday was with Granny. Grandpa lived there too,but he was as dependable as weather, a shiftless man, claimed Granny, but I liked him,and I adored the white rabbits that lived in old apple crates with chickenwire doors.I fed them carrots straight from the garden while Granny had one stewing with…
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28 August: The Goatherd #6
And After A Time She settlesin a small thatched hutwith a platformto sleep … no need for more.Her days are an evened echo of walking. Goats. To water.To food. Some days come disguised,as a volcano, or a caged hawk,or a jungle,or purified water … or freedom. One day she’ll…
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27 August: Harps of Glitter
Harps of Glitter And they poured into the church,the fair,the rich and young,the faultless and proud. And the preacher stood and said,Let us now sing from page 254. And for all their language, quipsand babble, and harps of glitter,all they could managewas to hum. Written for Ragtag Daily Prompt “Hum”, some artwork is created using Midjourney AI,…
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27 August: Amorphous
Amorphous She remembers the summeras hot andprickly dry. She spent most of itlicking moistureon her lips, and then her upper lip peeled,cracked, and bledas she gnawed the twiggish twisty bits with her lowerteeth. And then the summer was gone.Her memoriesfaltering, a penny for your porous,amorphousthoughts. And she stares off, wondering what was she thinkingwhile her…
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25 August: The Goatherd 5
5. When He Sees Her Her donkey shifts its weight, and stares.A man. Lean and tall. Long limbs. A facewith lines as deep as a flash flood’s gulley.The man studies the woman milking his goat. She’s lean and tall. Long limbs. A face thathe can’t read. She rises from her haunches,and licks the last trace…
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24 August: A Haibun
To Feed A man and a woman sit in chairs that through the passing of time have become his chair and her chair. The room is a warm beige colour, the name of which neither of them can recall, but it was a popular colour a few years ago. They both have the same colour…
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23 August: dVerse Quadrille Pines
Rooted in Pines A friend once told me,visit a graveyardwhen you’re depressed. You will feel happier. There’s a twitch widthbetween thislife and death. But I’m happy to root myselfunder tall pines, and I’m not enticed by a ledge that inventsa leap. For De’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets – to include is any form of the word…
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22 August: The Goatherd 4
4. When She Sees the Goats She sees the goatsbefore she sees the man. A white goat leaping about like a small moth. A black one studying branches of an Argan tree. She leans down and draws milkfrom its tit into her cupped hand. It trickles between her fingers,warm and rich,the colour of pale butter.…
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22 August: For Ragtag Daily Prompt
The Automatic Queueing System Busy. Their phone is always busy. I should’ve poured a coffee. I can almost count the leaves falling. Already, it’s the end… You are number five in the queue. …of August, and the nights are colder. I smell the scent of wood smoke passing through the neighbourhood … You are number…
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21 August: Spontaneity
The sun has found me, its warmth strikes my face. I half expect God to say, “Lift up your face,” but all I hear is bird song. And it’s enough. This is my daily walk. Footpaths. Encroaching brambles. Shoe laces that won’t stay tied; it’s a gradual undoing. I’m undone by a newfound appreciation for…
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