d.g.micaels

Prompt 193 Drifting Furrowed Fields

#SenseWrds 193

An old farmer
plowing amidst the
dust clouds, at random.

Pic

#vss365

Her new mood has tossed her
satellite in his sky
like a sigh or a
disorbitaling gas giant.

#orbital

#SenseWrds
188

… in sporadic kinetic syncopating aesthetic pulses once fame found its solace in the traditional shade of billionaires’ lawns, the parties were rockin’.

Thx 😊 for the reposting:

@krislindbeck.bsky.social

@sensewords.bsky.social

@owlnsquirrels1111.bsky.social

Album Cover: The Very Best of doors, The Doors

13. Superstorm Riders - “Riders on the Storm” by The Doors: A brooding organ and the tides, and the rig’s cramped roar rushing through as the flood hazes the driver.

Playlist Links↑Above

"No, no." Willoe's head shook a bit more emphatically for a moment. Then - as if something, another possible world perhaps - had invaded her consciousness - as soon as she made another little, brief glance over at Aaesha, she paused. "Well but, there really was a time for that, you know? When a thing like that could happen in someone's real, actual life….. during our parents's times." "I suppose..." But Aaesha doesn't know. She doesn't know the stories. Not much about the sociological backgroundings neither; those wide lives, all the options they had; the international trade agreements; the endless rivers of containers sliding in and out through night-lit harbours as though they were some magnanimous gift - with their widths, depths and masses easily comparable to.... but, oh my god, why was she thinking about... cargo containers? Had she ever not cared less about anything in her whole life? She is, after all, though, only another a math-shamaness — a girls-doing-STEM girl who'd shown off sufficient amounts of the proper enthusiasms and aptitudes at an early enough age, and was later trained up among the new kinds of hyper-specialized, technico-wonderchildren who'd been slated in those days to be taking over the world. That other stuff is not within of her scope. The economics, the dynamics. The symbolisms. All the goods, the choices. But it didn't matter....

#WipSnips #neither

.... straight talk of my own crooked heart; the ridiculously incapacitated, and the uninspirations of a certain, unsullen highlit out-of-the-blue-one-knowingly-impossibly growing. Mostly G.... oing toward the impossibility to say so & to say so that some of the things that think so loudly without ever being straight, like, are... IS it a crime? — & WAS it a crime just to put in all that time? & just WHO the f*ck. are you - are you? - are you, you so unconquerably? •••

#vss365 #knowingly

Can you hear it?
The brushed underbelly of
my heart beating
rushed
like a hummingbird
drunk on sap‑sweet wells
I’m just a shy sliver
of creaking sky
hiding
but you’re my crimson ache
my dark swallowed flame
my #beastly shiver of lightning
vining down my spine
burn me
breathe me
eat my ashes

#vss365

👋 hey, MB Henry, seems like it’s been a while. Nice to see an old-timer now and then…. & ‘grats on your new pub! 📕 ✨💫

#vss365

… then he dove, with uncertainty, into
the #beastly enclaves
of her beauty, driving
in a wide, purple Jag, seeking out
his neon-silver destiny, unknowingly.

Prompt 187 Resilient Timeless Grace

#SenseWrds 187

Uneroded by the
tictoccings, and unaffected
by the hours, the
stone dancer was….

Thx to 🙏🏼 Fiz, Ambient, Jan fo’ yo’ repostings!

@fizzytwizler.bsky.social
@ambientdread.bsky.social
@jangoeswriting.bsky.social

📤

Now, Maeve’s smile had turned to an even more evil smirk. “What should we do then, Aaesha? Should we… shoot them down?” Aaesha only smiled back at her gently. “No Maeve… I think we should just … leave it be? I’d rather stay with you guys a bit longer. I really like living and working here with you two, you know? Where it’s quiet and there’s so few distractions. Only just the old, radio tunes Willoe pipes in and she loves so much. No, honestly… Maeve, even though I may have to fly off somewhere, someday, on some days I think I might be lovin’ it still, just being here. Although on some days, I think … maybe, on a summer’s day, someday, somehow,?” She had trailed off, though, into a jazzy murmur which, for an observer with a more subtle ear, might have suggested her heart was quietly contradicting her—perhaps in some other, a newer node of a misgiving still, or a slender crack of longing that’d hovered, uncertain in the air, unthought of in the calculations. 

#WipSnips
#subtle

#vss365 #bouncy

endearing a ring of daring &
bouncy new ideas in a new
confabulations

#vss365

Oh… but only to glance
unimpededly
at her in those minuscule
moments
after the dark settles in,
he‘s wondered for so long?

#minuscule

Daybreak Balancing Crumbs

Tyvm @sensewords.bsky.social 🙏🏼

… that time your three words combined spurred something on how a paragraph in my novel WiP might go, which seemed lucky 🍀 for me. So that was a cut at it….

#vss365

Drab & unquiet
Insilent footsteps muted
The lacuna bells

#lacuna

🙏🏼 ☺️!!

And so now, he’s wondering…. if he might not have been born initially, perhaps, into some gap in the world’s narrowed ways. And maybe then after, there’d been an opening of some kind? And so this, now, was only a remnant and a closure? As now, the sun rises up in red skies on morning after morning and he’s there alone, sitting precariously in only the company of the ranch dog, Qexe.… like, as if, he were only dancing on some old rays of rigid moonbeams or something?

#SenseWrds

Prompt 183:

Daybreak
Balancing
Crumbs

#WipSnip (or an outtake)

A fantasy portrait illustration of a big beefy dragon man on a black background; a dragonborn paladin wearing chain mail.

A portrait I made for a D&D character I got to play yesterday at last; the formerly human art student turned dragonborn paladin, Frost. I love dinosaurs and dragons, so illustrating him was a blast. I wanted a blunt, heavy look and was happy to incorporate a "Godzilla 98" chin to complement that.

#vss365 #dark

A dark Act
Was perpetuated once e’en
without a noun

she’d said to him

when no-one was….

Murdered by no-one.
Nor were any begotten by the
disarticulated
darkening
vengeance

Of the dark whisper

underneath. . . .

#vss365
…& she needed no blast
from the past coming
under her like an
incipient #ache from the moon. As if a thing—as if a thing of a kind at all, existent only in excess and its surpluses—as if the red evenings of February skies could have supplied her newest, most signified mechanisms. BA.BOOM!!💥

A monday & the bone dry super
silences on that very first 4:00
a.
m. metro train, again, he had not
thought.

#vss365 #bones

the lambent
words of your poetry
are my steppingstones shoreward
as night sweeps
a steady rush of darkness
#vss365 #lambent #poetry #micropoetry

Cellar floods. Floods with mead. Her veins do. Her veins flood mead. Lambent. As a warm-stoned room. Castled in it. Castling. Layering. She's a bearskin. Castled a bearskin rug. Held. Midroar held in the roar. Five seconds five hundred years. Five seconds five hundred. Liquid.

#vss365 #lambent

Oh well, now I gotta so many to thank, I don’t even know what to say?

🙏🏼

@nathanbrazil.bsky.social
@donovanwrites.bsky.social
@owlnsquirrels1111.bsky.social
@jangoeswriting.bsky.social
@jomizuno.bsky.social
@fizzytwizler.bsky.social

for the reposts.

“You like me, you really….” 🎥

#vss365

A new poet shuffled forward. . . .

“… & a contemporary world of today
Was where….
The media will flow through us
Like blood and mud
Not merely pretentiously, but
ostentatiously also. As she had first heard
Of her Journey back into quietude
& the two Roses.

#blood

(wipsnip)

#vss365

… and someday, she says, she’s gonna be like
a soft, #lambent blueness
faraway, but only with
a little warmth.
Or like a story that you gotta tell
only
in a pentameter rhythm.
Or like an ideal you’d wanna
sing for.

The weight of your body still
lingers, like a thousand-pound
ghost curled between the lines
of this poem… Memory foam.

#vss365