353375
Everyday
As I make my way
To the town
Hospital
I see a ragged wasp nest
Dangling from a tree;
I’m waiting
For the grey mummy-
Mask to fall,
So I can
Run over it with my car–
Ghost-wasps do not sting.
skat@2018
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Bumblebee,
soon you will die, so
I try to
warm you up
on a sunshiny flower,
and feed you honey.
skat@2018
Bluejays have come back
The bald one is now Kojak
“Who loves ya, baby?”
skat@2018
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Mesmerized,
by blowing leaves, my
cat sits at
the window.
His head traces rise and fall,
every muscle tensed.
skat@2017
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Early light
on dying willows
burning bright
flickering–
crackling kindling going up
in a roaring fire
skat@2017
It makes more sense than a couple of other things....
Poetry, haiku, tanka, and micropoetry
He said I'm needy so I wrote about it.
Casting for the Deep
the quill that shatters glass
Setting up a Brand-New Life in London
a creative writing notebook by Bill Bisgood
by Lize Bard
Alex Markovich. 40 y.o. Russia. Artist. Author. MarkovichUniverse AT gmail DOT com
poems, flash fiction and photographs
Writing is ..., it just is ...
My Pen Writes of You When I Write of Me
thoughts, anecdotes and snapshots stumbled upon
Fumbling by Leisure, Singing to Cake
because the story must be told
Diary of a Canadian Winter Garden
