Friday, February 23, 2018

Friday 55 February 23 2018


Welcome to this week's meeting of minds and pens, where we remember a man named Galen Hayes for always being human, supportive and most of all, able to make laughter easy. The meme he originated, 55 words of prose or poetry, no more no less, on any subject, in any way, continues here, where we stress the exercise for its own intrinsic value, and not for the visits or comments it may draw, and certainly not as any obligation. So feel free to write without rules or expectations, and as often or as occasionally as you please, and link the result in the comments below. I will be delighted to come read it. The 55, as always, stays live from Friday till Sunday morning.




What I managed to throw together this week...






Mare





Time has made things small
whitened eyes shrink the sky
to fretful glances,
mouthfuls snatched 
in cloudy dips,
the great round room of mind
become a hoarder's 
feckless tip.

Yet night still grows
her waving shadows.
The blue-
winged mare who flew
head-first
across stars' streams
comes down at last
on emerald grass

stilled
with dreams.



~February 2018
















tip (2) noun...11. British.  a) dump for refuse, as that from a mine. b) Informal. an untidy place, especially a room ~dictionary.com
 







Images: Study of the Head of a Horse, 1439, by Pisanello      Public Domain
A Red Horse, 1938, ©Marc Chagall      Public Domain

23 comments:

  1. In the tradition of James Wright and William Stafford and Mary Oliver, there is a gift here for the reader, its prize hard to attain: We all suffer the first stanza in some measure or another, but finding and then remitting the second is pure azure. It comes at high cost and it's almost too priceless to earn. But now and then and settles down with a grace-note like this. A kick ass 55, enuff to lighten my step as I trudge toward the weekend. Thanks for that and for doing this weekly bikefest of 55s. I suspect carrying the torch has brightened some your own path.

    My 55: https://blueoran.wordpress.com/2018/02/23/undertow-2/

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    1. Thanks so much, Brendan. These poems are so difficult for me any more--thank the old gods I do sometimes still have dreams.

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  2. grapeling has written a 55, (and a crazy good one at that)

    https://grapeling.wordpress.com/2018/02/22/wait-2/

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    1. Thanks, Joy.

      Yours carries - a lightness on her back, with that second stanza, almost like a second chance or wind, after the weight in the first. That tip.... what a great usage, and thanks for the explanation. What comes to all of us with age, yes, that hoarding of detritus memories, piled atop our observations of new and ancient stupidities. And beauty.

      Oh, the one I penned before this one, penned for Brendan's post last week, is also a 55...

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    2. And a classic one. Thanks for pointing it out so I could catch it--and also, thanks for the kind words that let me know you get it and I'm not just nattering away to myself. ;_)

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  3. This is gorgeous!!! As has been noted elsewhere, it is easy in the time of Trump to lose sight of anything beautiful in the daily avalanche if the ugly and absurd, but it is still there, as you have so beautifully said here with your welcome poem.

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    1. Thank you Shay. You know your words mean much to me always, backed as they are by your sure sense of the poetic.

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  4. Z. Peanut told me what to write about and, as per normal, I acceded to his demands. :-P

    http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/2018/02/rain.html

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  5. Oh, the blue-winged mare is so beautiful! I so love the landing on that grass "stilled with dreams". Sigh.

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  6. I love how those dreams can still the dark world... the blue-winged mare is a divine being.... if we could just sleep it all away

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  7. comes down at last
    on emerald grass
    stilled with dreamsm

    It steadies itself as a messenger to bring solace to many lonely souls. That is how Hank sees this poem. Wonderful take, Joy!

    Hank

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    1. Thank you, Hank. I appreciate you stopping by.

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  8. So very beautiful, Joy... I let out a heartfelt sigh as i read the final lines. My room of mind is very cluttered at present - your mention of seeing the sky only in snatches resonates.

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    1. Glad you liked it, Kerry, and many thanks.

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  9. Here is mine. Your 55 is so beautiful. Mine is frivolous fluff this week but it brought back good memories of a good cat. This is for Miss Boot.
    https://kanzensakura.wordpress.com/2018/02/24/the-secret-life-of-cats/

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  10. In the time of trump, I have decided to ignore him. It is barely spring: Yatto haru as the Japanese say. When it is still cold and rainy and flowering bushes and daffodils burst into bloom and one shivers while walking about looking at the blooms. Everyone, have a good week.

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    1. I wish I could ignore him! But I also love this time, just before the spring really wakes up, when winter still thinks she owns it, but everywhere, life is saying something different. I planted tulips and daffodils last fall, to join my existing bulbs, and I can't wait to see how they change the garden with their personalities. Thanks so much for adding your 55 to the pile.

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  11. This is beautiful. After a week of US news and my own health things I needed a touch of beauty.

    Here is mine. Not beautiful but ...Also I may be too late for the 55.
    https://blackinkhowl.blogspot.com/2018/02/a-beggars-glimpse_25.html?m=1

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    1. Never too late Susie--though sometimes I close it before noon if I know I'm not going to be around--was just getting ready to, and you made it ahead of the wire. Thanks for playing, and for always bringing your best.

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  12. Thanks to everyone who stopped by to read, to play and to reflect on Galen and times past. See you next week.

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