Bluesky Quarterly Review (2026) #3

July-September 2026

 

A compendium of poems posted on Bluesky in the third quarter of 2026:

 

Dod Procter - Sleeping Girl (1927)

 

Hot night –

ceiling fan

hums to itself.

 

***

 

Empty beach

all to itself –

sun-bleached bones.

 

***

 

Mind wandering

far and wide –

I head back inside.

 

***

 

Trying not to

notice her

holding a candle.

 

***

 

Tide turns

melting into history –

sand castle.

 

***

 

Picture still

framing her

forgotten memories.

 

***

 

Lotus flower –

cradling a perfect

pearl of water.

 

***

 

Winding an old watch

resuming

the same old tick.

 

***

 

Forest glade –

looking up to the sun

scattered flowers.

 

***

 

Mirror –

reflecting

what remains.

 

***

 

Another Trojan Horse –

eating all

the yarrow.

 

***

 

Backed into a corner

dustbuster

biding its time.

 

***

 

Scraping it

together –

grasshopper blues.

 

***

 

Simple life –

Sunday morning

tea and toast.

 

***

 

Not a cloud yet

feeling

the shade.

 

***

 

Small boy and sardines

lifting our heads

above water.

 

***

 

Winking into

our future –

another dead satellite.

 

***

 

Flickering

filament –

or moth?

 

***

 

Brim-shaded squint –

slow chewing

a toothpick.

 

***

 

Trying not to –

only makes it

worse.

 

***

 

Last snowflake –

silence melts into

endless summer.

 

***

 

What bugs

the beetle –

I wonder?

 

***

 

The warmth

within –

a red lantern.

 

***

 

Hawk eyes

on her glove –

outstretched.

 

***

 

Last bus –

its doors and I

sigh together.

 

click here for commentary

 

***

 

Each drop of soy

sinks deeper –

oroshi daikon.

 

***

 

Slow spirals –

incense coils

hung from the eaves.

 

***

 

Flipping the switch –

still

       in the dark.

 

***

 

Nothing more to say

and yet –

he keeps talking.

 

***

 

Measuring

her words,

watching

every move.

 

***

 

All the deep voices

shouting –

another samurai TV drama.

 

***

 

Wife and I –

dozing midday

away.

 

***

 

Entwined

forgotten –

yet still hanging by a

             single thread.

 

***

 

 

Variety performance –

rattling more than

their jewellery.

 

***

 

No rhyme

nor reason –

and yet …

 

***

 

Making our way

across the sky –

the moon and me.

 

***

 

Something

unsaid –

says it all.

 

***

 

Eggs –

over easy

like Sunday morning.

 

***

 

Singing a lullaby

to the catfish

in Tokyo Bay.

 

***

 

Sleeping in –

the weekend starts

without me.

 

***

 

Another coat

of paint should

cover the

 

***

 

Minute to midnight

the clock stops

without us noticing.

 

***

 

Eggshells –

counting the crunch

with each step.

 

***

 

Mudflats glistening –

fresh water

meets salt.

 

***

 

Fading light –

the bicycle’s dynamo

slowly whirring down.

 

***

 

Fresh peach –

enveloping an age

old stone.

 

***

 

Always in search of

an old rag to clean

the spark plugs.

 

***

 

Sucking saltwater taffy –

we pretend

nothing’s changed.

 

***

 

One hundred million years hence

all that remains –

a single sock.

 

***

 

All exactly where

I left them –

fallen pine needles.

 

***

 

A billion lightyears

across –

a single puddle.

 

***

 

Turning on a dime –

the jukebox starts

playing our tune.

 

***

 

In a corner

hunched –

no one notices.

 

***

 

Freshly minted –

full moon

on ice.

 

***

 

My inner Bartleby

very politely …

declines.

 

***

 

Hole in the hedge –

just big enough for

an adventure.

 

***

 

Glad to get back

to the garden –

potato peels.

 

***

 

Talking to himself –

the crow’s cracked

voice.

 

***

 

Time passes

slower for the grape

on the vine.

 

***

 

 

Lacing her boots –

the silent treatment

suggests thin ice.

 

***

 

Sunday sighs

too soon into

Monday’s mind.

 

***

 

Each candle

in the cathedral

content in itself.

 

***

 

Asking his daughter

what she really

really wants.

 

***

 

Smooth palms rub

a sea polished

pebble.

 

***

 

Final call –

setting my phone

to flight mode.

 

***

 

Carbon offsetting –

the old elm’s

white bones.

 

***

 

Quickly losing

the thread –

eye for an eye.

 

***

 

Elbow patches –

fresh tobacco

in his pipe.

 

***

 

His lucky penny –

lost

      again …

 

***

 

Dusk lengthens

the echo –

low tide.

 

***

 

Worried by

the wind –

weeping willow.

 

***

 

First light –

a warbler

up with the lark.

 

***

 

Wild rose –

lost without

her thorns.

 

***

 

The breeze –

passes right

through me.

 

***

 

We hang our heads –

me and a

chrysanthemum.

 

***

 

Fox fur –

pelted with

rotten eggs.

 

***

 

Turned and returned –

this land long tilled

through time.

 

***

 

Storm abates

wind drops –

blank canvas.

 

***

 

Soul food –

medium

well done.

 

***

 

Rewilding –

our imaginations

take flight.

 

***

 

Full moon –

drips from a

leaky bucket.

 

***

 

Deep

among bluebells –

deer.

 

***

 

Horse tail

flies

every which way.

 

***

 

So many storms –

we forget

the first.

 

***

 

Each frog –

waiting for another

to jump first.

 

***

 

We flip a coin –

then do the

opposite.

 

***

 

The cat quietly

slinks away –

uninvolved.

 

***

 

Finding refuge

from the rain –

an unbeliever.

 

***

 

In the east wing

under a white sheet –

the candlestick.

 

***

 

Sunspots and

solar flares –

completing the equation.

 

***

 

We turn together

a waltz –

under the stars.

 

***

 

Inspired by

all the others

looking within.

 

***

 

Full circle –

worrying about

one white strand.

 

***

 

Always pointing

the wrong way –

GPS locator.

 

***

 

Vinyl pops

and clicks –

getting into the groove.

 

***

 

Bathed in blue light –

whale watching

on TV.

 

click here for commentary

 

***

 

So –

autumn it is

then.

 

 

 

Paul Gauguin - By the Stream, Autumn (1885)