Tag: Poetry
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19 May: dVerse Ekphrastics
Bride with a Fan She is made of hush —blue air, white petals,a face turned inwardas though listeningfor the vow before it is spoken. The veil does not hide her;it teaches light to soften.Even her silence seems paintedwith a tremor of winter sky. In her hand, the fan openslike a small, private weather,something between a…
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19 May: dVerse Dogs
Her Heart She will alwaysbe my last— last dog,last thought. Blind and deaf,I held herwhen the stroke came, felt her heartagainst the pulseinside my arms. She lefther shadowin my heart. Her namewas Molly. Written for dVerse Poets, Quadrille of 44-words about a dog. Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is authentically my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
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18 May: The Liturgy
Liturgy for the Burning of Iron(Sussex, 1838—where the poor refused to starve in silence) I. The Ledger of HungerEngland asked for more.Not more work —the labourers gave that already,their backs bent to the sickle,their hands calloused by the scythe,their winters surrenderedto a season that never paid its debts. England called for silence.For gratitude.For wages that…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Vertical Oppression(Or: Why the Good Stuff Is Always on the Top Shelf) The cat stands before the pantry,face like grievance,gazing up at the top shelfwhere the good sardinesgleam like a golden fleece. “Explain,” he says,“why the best fishare alwaysout of reach. Not impossible.Not mythical.Simply…up there. This is not accident.This is architecture.Oppression.” The Old…
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1105: The Liturgy
Episode 10: Liturgy for the Saturday Market Valence, 1836: Where hunger measures every stranger I. The Root The people of Valenceare rooted in hunger — missed meals,children whose ribslearn to count themselvesbefore they learn their letters. This hunger speaks.And calculates. Every loafa fraction.Every coina remainder.Every strangera divisor in an equationalready too tight. Hunger empties the…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The St Malo Sardine Incident(Or: A Feline Foreign Policy) The Old Woman stands at the counter in St. Malo,a case of sardines in lemony oiltucked under her arm,her wallet slightly lighter,her heart slightly french. The shopkeeper smiles.“A good choice, madame. For a special occasion?” She thinks of the cat,not hers, never hers,waiting on the windowsill,tail…
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6 May: dVerse Quadrille
Forty-Four Blooming Words a populationof self-seeded daisieson French verges. common,persistent,blooming anyway. no gardener names them,no border holds them;they take what is given. small faces turnto passing cars,white as breath,bright as forgetting, rooted where chancedecidedbeauty isenough. Written for dVerse Poets’ Quadrille: bloom ©Misky 2006-2026.
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Cat’s Nocturnal Quest (Or: a brief romance in three acts) ACT I: THE EXIT“Don’t wait up, old woman,” he purrs,tail held high like a banner of mischief.“I have… errands.Of a personal nature.Involves a wicked womanand a well-stocked pantry.” ACT II: THE RETURNDawn finds him back on the windowsill,whiskers tipped with cream,a single sardine tin…
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AprPAD — Day 30
How to Bend a Spoon somehowher younger self still knows —step back into her shadow. “the apples will be abundant this year,” she says,changing the subject.“ripe before autumn.” she watches the sun drink from a puddle,summer not quite here. “you’re not special,” he says.“such foolishness.doula-foola.nonsense —humming to a fallen bird,as if it hears you.” a…
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AprPAD — Day 29
A Pocketful of Reasons the birds began first,then wind in the high leaves and suddenlythe whole forestwas louder than thinking. some bloodlines,my grandmother said,keep watchwhere the seen worldthins. perhaps that is whybirds sing harderin the trees, and small creaturesfind uswhen they are leaving. they seem to know. in my pocketa silence I can’t namefeathers, still…
