Wall. Life could be so much more exciting with my hands off the wheel, until I end up in a ditch and look back at frozen tyre tracks scribbled over wet tarmac, thinking: Maybe I should go to Amy’s show-and-tell. And then, I slam into another wall, which I could’ve avoided but probably shouldn’t have,…
Morning Haiku – 27
Dripping wet willows Weep deep into river’s seep For Summer Chub’s leap.
Aug07
The Dissection In the park I spotted the birds together, plotting: A raven, a crow, and a swallow. The raven was all like, “Once upon a midnight dreary…” The swallow was all like, “Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves…” The crow was all like, “Crow went on laughing….” In revenge I sought…
Morning Haiku – 26
Ten colourful cans: Tinned, tamed, then shied off the shelves Of Summer hot stores.
Aug06
The Circle – Part VII – Faye. She could be Atlas, but she’s tiny, timidly peeking at her potential makes her nose twitch and appear more whiny: Self-doubt is never a good credential. To boost herself, she scurries off to the class. Cautiously scuttling forward with her guides She nervously asks about if she’ll pass….
Morning Haiku – 25
Twenty-five green shades Pulled over the sly eyes of Summer gambollers.
Aug05
Daddy’s dead. And I didn’t kill him, like Sylvia said. And I cried on the day he died. I don’t know why. If Mum reads this, who will she miss? Will it be me? Or our absentee? Either way, she won’t cry… Carmen Miranda, Portuguese-born Brazilian samba singer, dancer, actress and film star, died today…
Morning Haiku – 24
All seven sons fly The nest from sisters’ crying Tweets all Summer long.
Liebster Award Nomination
Today, I received a notification for the Liebster Award from Peaks of Cheeks, who digs, digs, digs into our mine the whole day through… Thank you so much, I am honoured to be nominated. So, (Deep inhalation of breath) here goes…. The Rules: Thank the blogger who nominated you and add a link to their…
Aug04
When do I begin? Where I heard the wolf howl? If all at once laughter escaped the twisting dawn, If in reflected midnight sunsets a secret touch is felt will dark fingertips journey? Soft everything. A red blue calls and the forgotten city remembered hurries still. Will I forget to remember the sleeping memory shadow?