Category Archives: art

fare well

i used to know my sister

til i knew her too well

i don’t miss her

.

i used to work as a school teacher

i learned to show and not tell

i don’t miss this either

.

i used to paint fine art pictures

i’d stick them up on walls to sell

not one was a keeper

.

i let them all go

used up

i used to try to think

i used to be a dreamer

i stopped

i started

to linger

in liminal places

erasing these faces

i surrender

to a sweeter power

and

i woke up to be her

but who is she, ma belle?

.

not a haiku

.

https://www.napowrimo.net/

NaPoWriMo day 21 prompt:-

write a poem in which you first recall someone you used to know closely but are no longer in touch with, then a job you used to have but no longer do, and then a piece of art that you saw once and that has stuck with you over time. Finally, close the poem with an unanswerable question.

on heart strings drawn at dawn

NaPoWriMo 2021 Button with white background
NaPoWriMo 2021 Button with black background

.

liccle-itsty-bitty bits & increments 

all along lines ( i’ve drawn ) of longtitudes & platitudes

something crawls quietly minding its own bizziness

sickle instrument wrought in criss-crossed hairs – 

 raised whispers shrink to focus

into being

                                      something multipliesminimalised

zing!

.

indistinct insects aren’t more minuscule than this

abstract concept

it’s simple — a note a mote i wrote-un-written just

folded over a thousand-trillon times in

a chime of homeopathic pearls of petals

a curl of soapy marble mumbles smitten in

to sputters dotted with pollens arrested in syrupy amber still

wet & wept taunt & thick with scents reminiscent of what? still hot

still small

a cerebral cortex stretched &

strung along high-wired spirals & straightened memories slip-wrecked

vibrating        sweetly       minutely       brightly

a distinct reveille

  a cell’s reverie

.

somewhere something twangs & swells

cracks at its invisible shells & sprouts its mythical wings

abruptly

it is lost on dusts & mists

of songsitude unplentitudes ( i’ve created ) understated it’s     .

.

.

not huge at all 

as it happened 

did you spot it?

an imperfect ball de-magnified

as speck of ink on a brink

of extinction

so microscopic was it

did you miss it?

.

not a haiku

.

https://www.napowrimo.net

NaPoWriMo day 12:-

Yesterday, the challenge was to write a poem about a very large thing. Today, it is to invert the inspiration, and write a poem about a very small thing. Whether it’s an atom, a button, a hummingbird’s egg, dollhouse furniture, or the mythical world’s smallest violin. Let’s begin…. see above

distance

NaPoWriMo 2021 Button with white background

‘you’ve spoiled the way the tree hangs’, he muttered in passing, the man i’d watched from across the orchard with admiration, imagining some future passion. His torso glowed in the low summer sun. Sweat over taunt muscles, golden fuzz glued, caught in highlights, his face averted, his shorts short and tight.

When he approached me, i’d gasped at the intense scent rising from his body, that eclipsed the perfume of the apples dangling from the branches and fermenting in the grass. I’d felt quite dizzy from it, perched as i was, dangerously high on my ladder.

‘is that a fact?’ i’d offered to his back.

A beautiful, rippling study of manly motion and determination, he attacked the tree next to me with his secateurs. ‘yep’ he said, under his breath, ‘get some perspective’.

i climbed down from the ladder, took a few steps away and surveyed my own tree, glistening with rosy fruit, littered with severed branches and foliage, listing slightly.

He’d made no bones of it. I laughed. He was probably right.

In this tender light, this splendid afternoon spoiled, i removed my ladder to a further tree and began again.

i left my thoughts hanging

.

not a haiku

.

NaPoWriMo 2021 Button with white background

The prompt is based on Robert Hass’s remarkable prose poem, “A Story About the Body.” The idea is to write your own prose poem that, whatever title you choose to give it, is a story about the body. The poem should contain an encounter between two people, some spoken language, and at least one crisp visual image.

Note book for you

Hello readers,

I’ve created a notebook for your THOUGHTS NOTES DREAMS on Amazon.

Each page is watermarked with an original drawing of falling flowers waiting to receive your writings. I hope you like it and use it to express whatever your heart desires.

Follow the link below to find the notebook / journal of your dreams

Happy writing

With love

BTW