Friday, January 12, 2018

Friday 55 January 12 2018



As the door to another year opens, we stroll into the shelter of this room of words with whatever we can find to delight the mind, comfort it, or perhaps, clean it out...in 55 words of prose or poetry--no more, no less. As always, we do this to remember a man who gave of himself to support and encourage others every week with this meme, Galen Hayes, and to write in this form with no rules other than to enjoy each other and to practice the craft.
Also as always, the prompt is open from Friday through Sunday, so leave a link to your offering in the comments below and I will be by to see the results. Comment moderation is off for the duration of the post, but I reserve the right to cleanse this mental room of all dubious influences with the powerful smudge of the delete key.







So, I'll start things off then...








Spellsong




A statue's
closed stare,
mind castled in sand,
stone-sweeping sleet
to compass my hands,
midnight dissolving
in fog and quicklime;

all faces in masks
all masks without eyes.

Acid and black-ice
bitter the glass.
Flames' frozen flutter
fits candles of brass;

sighing of wind, dancing of rain,
kiss from a ghost to
burn me again.



~January 2018 














Images: Eyelid to Eye, 2014  ©joyannjones 
photo (manipulated) of 
Moth and Flame Candlestick, 1965  by Salvador Dali  Fair Use


35 comments:

  1. Ghost kisses are a different affair than any other, that's beyond quarrel. What a perfect poem for inclement weather and darkness, even that beyond the weatherman's ken.

    Here's my intriguingly well-penned non-haiku:

    http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/2018/01/floral-arrangement.html

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    1. While I'm extremely disappointed this has no unicorns or spangle-dust anywhere, let alone is it a haiku, I am consoled by the fact that you made it rhyme, and that it's excellent. Thanks, dear BFF for kicking the 55 off to a superior start.

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  2. from one ghost to another, here's mud (in our eye)

    https://mudgreen.wordpress.com/2018/01/10/not-much/

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    1. Ghosts seem to have the best poetry...thanks for playing, and a very interesting sobriquet you've adopted.

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    2. not one to confuse sobriquet with sobriety, bouquet, or briquets for that matter.

      drunk, flowery flames, as it were. f&<ng poets. :)

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    3. oh, and the nom de plume? somewhat wrapped into the first pen on the new blog. it describe a certain eye color i was once called, ages past

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    4. Hazel--a most ambiguous blend that can shine a lot of different ways. There's a great deal of life in mud, and much of our origins...a humble thing, but full of surprises. Just glad you're around, under whatever name.

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  3. And here's my pathetic contribution. Thanks, https://ihatepoetry.blogspot.com/2018/01/swing-out-sister-in-heaven.html

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    1. I liked it! Good to see you here, Mosk.

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  4. Wonderful, especially those closing lines.

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    1. Thank you Sherry--hope your new year is going well.

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  5. I'm adding my bit for this before meeting with my physical torturers. I shall come back after I'm done screaming, to reward myself with everyone's yummy words:

    http://magalyguerrero.com/the-cinderella-man/

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    1. This completely cracked me up--I hope nothing of yours has been cracked, though. Thanks for playing, dear Magaly.

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    2. I, too, roared at the end.

      On the Magaly cracking front, all well went. And my cursing was so terrible, that some people lost it and burst into laughter. I joined in in the roaring, so it was good. :-D

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    3. Glad to hear all went well--and I'm lauging at the prolific cursing. Reminds me of when I had my son--the nurses kept saying "Shhhhh! You're scaring the other women!"And there I was, *hoping* I was scaring the doctors. ;)

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  6. Winter seems to have its clutches on all of us. This almost feels like an incantation. It fits perfectly with my dark winter thinking.

    https://blackinkhowl.blogspot.com/2018/01/wicked.html

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    1. Another amazing 55, Susie. The dark howling of winter is strong right now.

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  7. I have an extreme urge to sing this one. Not just because of the glorious rhyme, but because it reads like something creepy-looking children should be skipping to at dusk. The eyeless masks are properly terrifying, sprinkled with the sort of attraction that gets every curious movie character murdered. And the ghost kisses, well... those are always intriguing--one never knows if the kiss will fill the heart, or rip the bloody muscle out of its bone-cage.

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    1. Yeah, thumbs up on the creepy looking children.And you're quite right about the ghost kisses--amazing how they can throw a vibe. Thanks, Magaly.

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  8. You always manage to squeeze something epic into 55 words, Hedge. This makes great use of pause, in the layout - every line carries its weight in gold.

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  9. Thank you again, Hedge. I have 55, but not the heart to participate much more than that. Thank you for keeping the faith, so to speak. https://othermary.wordpress.com/2018/01/13/curtains/

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    1. Thanks Mary--I'm glad you could find the words--it helps, I think, and is maybe the only way we can resolve the anger that is inevitable but so draining right now. As always--no rules, no obligations with the 55--sometimes its all you can do just to be here.

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  10. And, another one, for a double dose of kick-butt!

    http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/2018/01/danger.html

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  11. Here’s my drivel (shovel may be required) Enjoyed everyone’s words today

    https://posthumousness.wordpress.com/2018/01/13/from-someone-who-doesnt-know-a-thing-about-love-or-gardening/

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    1. A shovel is always handy when working in the garden of words. Thanks for dropping by, angie.

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  12. Your poem made me think of the ghost of Christmas past... love how you got so much in your 55 words.

    Here is mine

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    1. Really enjoyed the mouse housekeeper, Bjorn, especially your reading. Thanks so much for adding your words to the 55.

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  13. I think you have a breviary (OK bestiary) of these blue dark boccaccios, fine and ghastly in the same whispered intone. There are truly 133 ways of looking at a spell ... some marvelous compressions here, the mind sand castle, the masks without eyes, the frozen flutter of candles trapped in brass: proscenium all for the entrance, the kiss, of the Ghost. Shivers and timbers of Mirkwood a-roar. Book 'em, if you get the chance ...

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    1. Thanks B. It' very difficult for me to write at all atm, so I seem to be forced to pull from the same spot, I hope not too monotonously, but hey, you do the best you can with what is left you. I admire your own soaring all over the mind sphere these days--yet always grounded in that blue mystery that is yours alone.

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  14. Weather that bad leaves me ghostly as well - that is unless I am indoors and then I don't mind it at all.
    First time here Hedgewitch and my effort can be found here:
    http://hypercryptical.blogspot.co.uk/2018/01/fear.html
    Cheers!
    Anna :o]

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    1. Always good to read your work, and very glad to see you here!

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  15. The 55 is now closed down til next Friday. Thanks to everyone who played this week--see you next time, and have a kickass week.

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