Friday, September 29, 2017

Friday 55 September 29 2017

Welcome, fellow travelers, to this weekly journey of 55 verbal steps which can lead to any destination. Times seem only to get crazier and more disjointed around us, so perhaps walking this path through the wilderness with the muse can bring some comfort, or at least a means to express how we feel, or maybe just the knowledge we're not alone. The rules are simple--this is a writing prompt which asks you to put your thoughts in 55 words of poetry or prose, no more no less. Leave a link to the result in the comments section, and I will be by to see what has been born. The keynote here is having some no-strings fun, but of course you may be as serious or unserious as you like. (The history of the what and why behind this meme and the G-man who began it (and to whom I tip my inadequate witchy hat) can be found here.) As always, comment moderation is on to keep the  trolls and suchlike under their bridges.

So let's get the show on the road:




Amethyst Circle 




I remember your hands
building the rain that is wrapped in morning
soft as grey feathers
not yet reshaped with the chill
that changes its nature,
not yet hard white knives
that open the veins
of fall's leavings
to rime and shrivel,
but alive, wild and strong
as the pushing seed
that cracks the stone.



~September 2017










Postscript: The title says 'Friday" but of course the 55 always stays up through the weekend to accommodate anyone dropping by.







Images: Fairy Circle, 1895, by  Carlton Alfred Grant, Public domain  (Manipulated)
Silver Maple Seedling in Chimney Bricks, ©joyannjones 2013


28 comments:

  1. I would pine for spring too Joy, that season of renewed hope, but riding on iced covered highways and walking through knee deep snow in loafers is so much more interesting.


    Today mine is up as a reality thought. here

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    1. Laughin at the loafers-even though I'm down in Dixie now, I grew up in Chicago, and I can feel that nasty cold wet of snow melting in the inadequate footwear all too well. Thanks for playing, Mark.

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  2. Glad to be joining this morning! Here's my bit for the cause.

    http://excursionsanddiversions-sking.blogspot.com/2017/09/small-soliloquy.html

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  3. You portray the effects of transformation and change vividly here. For me, it shows the circle of life, growth, decline in such an artful and perceptive way.
    Steve K.

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    1. Thanks, Steve. It's always good to have your artful words included in the 55 forum--and you are excelling at compressing so much into yours.

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  4. Oh my gosh. I came here grinning, cos after all, it is Galen 55 time, and then you brought tears to my eyes with this gorgeous short poem. The idea of "building the rain" is singular, but it isn't your poetic skill here--though it is on full display--that moved me so much, it was the evoked emotion. I want to frame this.

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    1. Thank you Shay. You know I am always made very happy when you like something of mine.

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  5. now--"Intriguing! HERE'S MINE."

    MRS. SNOFFO'S COMPLAINT

    Snoffo knows that I live to run my fingers through his fright wig and to kiss his grease paint lips. He made me laugh the very first time he spoke to me. But couldn't we have a bigger car? Can't he ever be serious, and say "I love you" without the pie after? Seriously, Snoffo!

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    1. Snoffo just doesn't get it. Clowns are just that way, I guess. The 'bigger car' line cracked me up--I hear the *biggest* cars for that sort of thing aren't made in Detroit or Japan, but Washington D.C. Thanks for playing, FB, and starting the weekend off with a rueful guffaw, and this little pie in the eye 55.

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  6. The observation works for self or other, of nature once maiden now crone. The transformations are exquisite and excruciating -- feathers into knives, "leavings" that "rime and shrivel" once "alive, wild and strong" with that infinitesimal of youth that could crack stone. Kick ass 55.

    My Hedgewitchean LV:
    https://blueoran.wordpress.com/2017/09/29/were-all-bozos-on-this-bus/

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    1. Your title brought back fond memories, B--Fire Sign Theater, wasn't it? Thanks for the generous comment, and for playing in such a kickass way yourself.

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  7. This does all sorts of wonderfully deep things to the heart, Joy. It reads like spring talking to Nature the Lover, like souls stuck in winter while dreaming of blooming, like hearts drowning in turmoil after half a lifetime of living that makes sense. The imagery digs into flesh and thought, it squeezes and leaves me gasping...

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    1. Thanks so much, Magaly...Nature is always there for some of us, in everything, speaking her spells, if you listen. And thanks for the wonderfully wanton 55, your own self.

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    2. Magaly,
      Your piece was an engaging take on great satisfactions, emotional and otherwise.
      Steve K.

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  8. And here is my bit:

    http://magalyguerrero.com/art-gives-the-best-feels/

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  9. This captures the wheel of the year so wonderfully in 55 words. It's so impressive how you've got this expansive feel in such a compact space.

    My contribution for this week: http://kestrilsrhythmsandgroove.blogspot.com/2017/09/look-alike.html

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    1. Thanks Rommy--I love what you've managed to make with your 55--naming the character is a very acute way of getting the reader to identify, too. So glad you came out to play with us!

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  10. hold the phone...I made it in on a Friday. Have a great weekend everyone, er, kickass I mean. here's my soda fizz: https://angieinspired.wordpress.com/2017/09/29/soda-fizz/

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    1. I don't know sugar, but this really was cool. And I'm even more impressed with the whole Friday thing. ;) (Oh and having a great weekend is perfectly okay, as long as there's kickass poetry involved.)

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  11. Walking Man led me here.

    my offering...https://beauvoirglass.blogspot.com/2017/09/friday-55.html

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  12. I'm so very late, but I did eventually find 55 words: https://othermary.wordpress.com/2017/10/01/present/

    You Amethyest Circle is brilliant. From the hands building rain to the white knives to the stone cracking seeds, this is such a fresh, yet inevitable progression.

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    1. You are always welcome, dear Mary--no matter when you get here.

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  13. You've seen my 55 words already, and now I drag my tardy ass over here. I'm not worth much on most Fridays and Saturdays but resting from work. I really like 55 words for a poem. It's enough to be intimate and suggestive but you have to get out of there before that extra word begins to overdo it.

    The beauty of a memory becoming the action of your poem is enough for 55 words but the way you up the ante by pushing into the possibility of a surprise--some new life one might base a future memory on--is terrific. And beautiful.

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    1. Thank you so much, Mark. I found your poem very moving, and difficult to describe, as yours often are, just leaving that feeling that one is more after reading it than beforehand--and I feel very obtuse for not noticing you used 55 precise and perfect words. Good to see you making use of the form--it's always been a great support for me.

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  14. I love the mixture of sorrow and excitement (not necessarily in that order).

    Here's mine (I'm all caught up now): http://passionatecrone.blogspot.com.au/2017/10/cat-games.html

    (Other catch-ups are linked at the relevant dates – and in keeping with the spirit of things here, everyone is excused from going back and hunting them up ... unless they REALLY want to.)

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    1. Rosemary--it's awfully late to post to all the older prompts. I'm sure interested parties can locate the posts on your blog, so I am not publishing them all. If you are expecting a lot of comments, I'll just say, this isn't about that. It is the opposite of that. I will be by to check this one out when I can, but the weekend is over, and another horrific week here has begun with a mass murder and a race-baiting president, so I am not much in the mood.

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg