Tag: #RDP
-
16 August: Transitions
A Little Brouhaha All about me, they lean,dahlias the size of dinner plates.It’s a feast of decanted pinksmacked sidewise, andstrong armed in a breeze. The air twists on scents of fermenting apples, wasps behaving like angry drunks,and all their unhinged buzzingis a premonition of autumn. Written for dVerse “Transitions” and RDP “Brouhaha” (in reference to angry, buzzing wasps) and Fandango’s…
-
4 August: Summer Sand and Sea (rewritten)
I think I’ll put this through the “refinery” and trim it down. The “refinery” is Joseph Harker’s method of stripping fluff out a piece of writing, and restructuring its symmetry. Summer Sand and Sea I.The suna solitary child shiningon the sea II.Its waves of tousled curls pourout little shells III.A breezeof liquid wind to breatheupon…
-
30 July: A Cadralor Poem
30.7.23 – A Cadralor Poem: Reading Stones I.I’m reading their stones,the old dead,remembering thoseI never knew. II.Her name is May.2-months. Sweet childwho never cried.Delicate as spring. III.Here lays Captain Morton,stood on a curving prow.Troubled by a cargo,the sea took him down. IV.A fisherman at rest,in rain and morning air.A squalling tangle of nets,his lights still…
-
11 June: They is They are (#rdp)
They Is and They Are She was given the wrong name tag, and for the rest of the evening, everyone called her Jake. Written for Sunday’s Ragtag Daily Prompt “label”, gender-fluid and non-binary gender labels. Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.
-
28 May: for RDP Chautauqua
Found Any Time, Any Place And she said,A poet who doesn’t look for answersisn’t a poet. But I look for moments, I said.As if tomorrow I might lose my mind.As if tomorrow I might lose my sight. And she said, Ask yourself,Why do old women return to the Church. I knew why.My god-fearing mother did…
-
28 May: Ragtag Daily 26-27.05
I. Broken I talk to drought beaten plants that disappear before my eyes, driven by no road to their end. Bees are already a memory. Wind cutting like broken glass. And I don’t know what dead land this is. Written for ragtag daily prompt on 26.05.23 “driven” II. Tea Dried and sun-crisp parched, a silver spoon ringing against fragile china clay. Scented like a head full…
-
9 April: Ragtag Daily Prompt “Bury”
Buried a grey squirrel races down the old oak, marks the bark with its iron claws, chases along the fence, untroubled across the slats, not a moment hesitation, no second thoughts, no tail flash in exclamation, and it disappears into the womb of the laurel, where this squirrel keeps its dregs and stash. For Ragtag Daily…
-
2 April: for Shay’s Word Garden and RDP “Influencer”
Under the Influence I.The weather has a temper, the way two crows quarrel over a piece of flesh. It’s the way of things, Solomon might’ve said, and I think I’m watching religion, or maybe I’m under the influence of weather. II. Radio reception’s gone again.It sounds like six shades of blizzard.Or cats and clowns hissing…
-
31 March: for Ragtag Daily Prompt
In the Corner Table of the Coffee Shop In the shadows where spiders spin invisible webs,and breakfast crumbs collect in colonies on the floor,sits a woman wearing a red and black silk sari,ivory bracelets clasped tight on her slender ankles,and as she takes short sips from a glass of water, her gold beaded bracelets ring…
It's Still Life 