Tag: #SOCS
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday
In Search of Wild Garlic Spring ends on Thursday.Or it might be Friday. That’s what the weatherman says. Wintery showers.Maybe snow.Nonsense.It’s 19º and sunny today. I’m foragingfor wild garlicon the creek embankment. Maybe it’s too early, althoughmagazines are fullof wild garlic. Soup. Pasta. Pesto. Avoiding stuff by the footpath,or the road. The county spraysweird-smelling stuff […]
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13.02.22: Stream of Consciousness Saturday “fortune”
How Long Is Your Length of String How long is a length of windthat gusts in gallops. Does itblow longer than childhood. Pity that mother slicing a loafthin enough to last 4 or 5 days longer. Or is it longer than build-up to war. Longerthan peace that never lasts. A hungry wolf’s in this wind,beating […]
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5.02.22 Stream of Consciousness Saturday #socs
A Little Night Music The clock’s ticking toward midnight,and it ticks forward and forwardand still forward morelike some shimmering starsending signals to the moon, and time is a minute longand eighty-nine years wide,and another pageof someone’s past is writteninto this colour-blind night. Stream of Consciousness Saturday “Pages” Image February Frost by William Ogilvie. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting […]
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday
STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS SATURDAY I can’t be the only one thinking morning comes too soon, and if we can put men on the moon, why can’t we change the feel of rain. It rained all night, and now there’s a magpie legging about in the gutter by the bedroom window. Magpies haven’t a clue how […]
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Q9 and Stream of Consciousness Saturday
IT’S STILL LIFE In the next 72-hoursor it might be less, these things areimpossibly imprecise, this blogineum ormaybe it’s blogitsky will be renamed, andgiven a new address. The new address is misky.uk and Plumb Lines is now called It’s Still Life because most people don’t know what a plumb line is. It was likely a poor choice on my […]
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For Miz Quickly’s Day Two: All About Heat
Miz Quickly’s Day Two: All About Heat I.I Remember Rain That Felt Like Silk I’ll be an old nag, obdurate, andstill sucking on a Werther’s Originalby the time temperatures soar likewhat Attenborough’s always saying, and I reckon the wind will bloweight-beats to a measure with yourhair-blowing cyclonic in your face,with brown-burnt grass torched off the […]
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday: New Shoes
25 September: I won’t get far in these shoes. New, they are. My feet are little piggies. Pink and squealing. But I will them on, walk walk, to go on, just like the seasons. Surprising that the leaves are turning overhead. Seems too soon. Most have fallen on the autumn grass, crinkly and twisted as […]
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday: I Smell Saltwater
I smell saltwater, and just like that, I’m 10-years old again, and we’re driving past that cranberry processing plant where berries roll and float in salty pools, the tidal waters renewed twice a day, and we’re a mile or so away from the marina where once a year Dad goes deep-sea fishing. That’s our summer […]
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11 September: Somewhere #socs
Somewhere That’s the way of things, isn’t it,the past.Always waiting there. It’s a long shadow, likeboarded-up windows to keep out the sun and salt air, or like cold rooms where youdon’t dare breathe becausethe air is damp and […]
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday: 4 September
Stream of Consciousness Saturday: 4 September Above the dim stirand clatter of dishes, we sit content at tables. Dinner talk.Tea and sugar.Blossoms and ash. We,the ages,playing cards. Pale worlddriftingin constellations, five stars look like a cat. And this dull pencilhas lost itssharpened pin. Dull lines is allit writes. It seems […]
It's Still Life 