Friday, September 8, 2017

Friday 55 September 8 2017


Welcome to the first step on my new Friday journey, friends, where in memory of Galen Hayes and better times, I will post a 55 word poem each Friday, and respond with unabashed delight to anyone who chooses to join me. To do so, just leave a link in the comments section to indicate where you have written, or if you prefer, leave the entire piece itself.  I want to stress that this is all for writing support and camaraderie, and there's never a need to make anything about it obligatory--do as much or as little as feels good to you. (To read more on this endeavor, go here.)
Comment moderation is still on, and no insincerity, ego-trips or trolls will be allowed to mar our fun.


So, without further ado, my 55:


Cricket




The musical cricket
who lives in my walls
vigils with me these dry dead nights
when sleep's a fantasy
and the fountain-moon
no longer wells.
He plays his body,
as mine once was played,
leg on fiddle leg,
to break the night with beauty
to remind the blind mind
sweetness
still hides in the dark.



~September 2017















Image: Wheat, Stone and Cricket, 1976, © Ding Yanyong    Fair use.

21 comments:

  1. Mary Bach is the first player, and so early she left her link on the previous post before this one was published this morning. Thank you Mary! Here it is:
    "
    https://othermary.wordpress.com/2017/09/08/nightmare/

    First words in months. Thanks Joy. I hope you have a kick-ass weekend. xx"

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  2. No! Everyone MUST return ALL visits until they are miserable and exhausted! Good morning, dear BFF. I love you cricket 55 and, as always, the way you find something marvelous in the simplest things or creatures. I especially loved the "fiddle leg." Oh, btw....have a kick-ass weekend!!!! ;-)

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  3. You show that silence too is a road that blooms and sings. Amen to the anonymous cricket who can "break the night with beauty" and "remind the blind mind / sweetness still hides in the dark." Let this Friday 55 be some fertile myrtle for burnt fiddlers like us.

    https://blueoran.wordpress.com/2017/09/08/in-anxious-times/

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  4. "Intriguing! Here's mine!" runs away...

    http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/2017/09/peacocks.html

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    Replies
    1. That's what I get for checking back on these too late - poem's locked away! I'll bet it was good though.

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    2. Pfft...never mind. I copied and pasted wrong :P

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    3. rofl--glad you were able to find it, Rommy--as always, Shay never writes a poem that isn't worth reading.

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  5. Thanks for inviting us in, Joy. Here's hoping for a kick ass weekend for us all.

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

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  6. Thanks for hosting, Joy. You found a bit of gothic beauty in insomnia, which was fun to read. Here's my piece: http://kestrilsrhythmsandgroove.blogspot.com/2017/09/the-meek.html

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  7. A very small, lost sky-bird flew by...

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    Replies
    1. There is always a limb here where weary wings may rest.

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  8. Joy, Such a strange beauty in this waking dream.

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  9. Love you 55 Hedge. Hope you weekend is, of course, kick-ass. And thanks for linking me in the right place.

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  10. https://cricketvigil.wordpress.com/2017/09/08/night-skinny-dippers/

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  11. The lovely things we can find in the dark (when we look and listen), the miracles we discover we have (when we see them for what they are)... Love the imagery, the promise.

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  12. Thanks to everyone who played, and to all who commented. There will be a deja vu all over again of this next Friday--hope to see you there.

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  13. Saw Mary's poem and decided I'd love to play, too.
    I'll be looking forward to these every Friday, Joy. Thanks, my friend.
    When I Was Born
    http://wp.me/p1AR9N-39T

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