Friday, March 23, 2018

Friday 55 March 23 2018

Greetings and welcome to another Friday 55, the forum where we remember the legacy of a man named Galen Hayes who, with humor and kindness, touched the lives of everyone who came to play his meme. We also come to write, in a place without rules or demands, except that our efforts be composed in 55 words of prose or poetry--no more, no less. Leave your contribution linked in the comments below between Friday and Sunday morning, and I will be by to see what you have built.



My 55 this week...



Flame




It was the flame
that winter couldn't bear,
so it brought
its chrome-cold howl
its tiny whitebread fingers
that break
birds' hearts
midair.

Green ran before
the snow-sealed eyes,
cracked trees cried;
earth was
urned
for the ashes of
winter-killed fire
even as sparks

that death-breath powered
flew wild-scarlet 
for a summer burning
with flowers.




~March 2018
















Optional Musical Accompaniment












Images: Magdalene with The Smoking  Flame, (detail) 1640, Georges De La Tour 
Field with Poppies, 1890, Vincent Van Gogh     
Public domain                 (manipulated)

26 comments:

  1. what a perfect image to burnish your pen. and then the tune! gold lame' vest rules.

    somehow, spring, no, summer, comes a-Phoenix from /despite the death-breath, in your final couplet.

    happy vernal equinox, Hedge, and may your weekend be filled with kick-assery.


    how rain

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    1. Yeah--the gold lame cracked me up. Still, this song has always gotten under my skin for some reason, mall-rockish tho it is. One of the good things about being a gardener is that life continually confronts you and forces you to notice it with some sort of beauty it pulls out of nowhere--as you, a gardener of words, probably know. Thanks,M.

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  2. "Winter-killed fire" is the skeleton key for me here to this burning jewel-box: as steel is "killed" by removing all oxygen from the works, so does winter "kill" burning--or rather, death kills winter producing this weird, evanescent phosphor of summer glowing like northern lights. A strange metallurgy here, Hedge, reminiscent to me of that line from Rilke's sonnets about wintering through the winter no one survives in order to become the crystal glass that shattered as it rang. When there is no hope, yet something warmly glows. A kickass sentiment for this vernal equinox.

    I'm afraid my offering this week tracks in rhino dust, so I'm calling it a reverse Hedgewitchean 55: https://blueoran.wordpress.com/2018/03/23/wheels/

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    1. Yes, I think there is that sort of convoluted feel to the genesis of these metaphors...but I am far from the clarity of a Rilke or Stevens right now. Still, I get so tired of writing of death, and all my spring flowers are blooming--white tulips,gold daffodils, purple pansies...all the color-songs that are a prelude to the scarlet operatics of summer's red and orange burn...it's hard to feel that what is blown out is ever really extinguished forever. Thanks B, for your generous interpretation, and for playing the song of the trophy hunter will such full sarcastic aplomb.

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  3. Bwahahaha in my place the weather is afeared to come across the city limits. So much snow in the right hand and rain in the left drought lands and little ol' us nothing sitting in between comfy cold and SWALLOWED up in winters left behind potholes.

    old enough to not care

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    1. Loved yours, Mark--and Galen would have as well, I'm sure--hopefully wherever he is, the aches and pains are a thing of the past. Thanks so much for making me smile this morning.

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  4. First, this is stellar work. The birds' hearts being broken mid-air...mercy. But this is more than a piece of writing, I know, and so I'm not going to presume to make some doltish comment about that. Just know how much I admire the ability to turn ash to scarlet as you have so skillfully done here, dear BFF

    My scribble, back to the light side:

    http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/2018/03/a-mail-ladys-golden-memories-epsiode-54.html

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    1. Nothing you say would be presumption, dear Shay--I am always grateful for your insight and comments--and also for making me laugh with your 55's, which I have fortunately learned to always read without being mid-beverage. ;_) Have a kickass weekend, dear.

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  5. Hi Hedgewitch. I'm new. Your site is like entering Narnia. I've only just arrived to see ....death powered by breath flying wild-scarlet for a summer burning with flowers...
    ... is it always like this here? Looks fun! :)

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    1. Thank you, and I appreciate the Narnia touch, though I usually feel more Poe-ish. ;_) Thanks for stopping by to read, and please feel free to try a 55.

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    2. Thank you! I've just done so. I'm honoured to take part - especially as a tribute to the G-man.

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    3. Vivian, you'll have to copy and paste your link so I can go read it! Looking forward to it.

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    4. https://smellthecoffeeweb.blog/2018/03/23/control-issues/

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    5. Thanks! I had no idea that dog beer was a thing--I am educated as well as amused. :P

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  6. I always suspected that deep inside (heck, probably not even all that deep), winter was a jealous bastard. But who can blame the cold one? How can a frozen soul not half-die at the sight of all that red and hot that it will never be able to touch?

    Really love the painting... and the song rocks.

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  7. And here is my "Human, Dark, Humorous" bit:

    http://magalyguerrero.com/human-dark-humorous/

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    1. I loved this--and I think it does the minimalist senryu thing very well in extended form--for a while I wrote a lot of those on twitter for a group of twitter poets--but I closed my twitter account when that whole platform became dominated by trolls. I also like the immediacy of the write, which is what happens when you do a time limit(not something I do well, so I admire it all the more.) Thanks for adding your magic to the weekend, Magaly. Oh, and brace yourself--Spring is coming. ;)

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  8. Oh I can feel this... this time of the year with winter coming back, with a force to wreck havoc among trees and birds. The end will still be summer, and it will come with a storm of color we always forget until it's upon us.

    Here is my humble offering.

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    1. Thanks Bjorn--always good to see you here.

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  9. Winter has been a bitch with her ice flame killing spring for many this year. I love "chrome cold howl". This could be about winter. It could be about life. I've felt the winter word sting too often this year. Fabulous writing as always!

    My poem was inspired by a song. https://blackinkhowl.blogspot.com/2018/03/minds-gone-blind.html

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    1. Yes, it was about both--and the cold chrome howl issuing from the orange lips on high...thanks for playing Susie, and I enjoyed the music as well.

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  10. Love the music and paintings! Mine comes out of a general frustration with this winter.
    http://purplepeninportland.com/2018/03/24/winter-movements/

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  11. Ooooh.. those white bread fingers.. This makes me feel colder than winter.

    Mine is a little warmer ;-)

    http://kerryoconnorsother.blogspot.co.za/2018/03/you-i-how-late-day.html

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  12. YOU AND ME

    Luv these lines:
    "earth was
    urned
    for the ashes of
    winter-killed fire "

    AND

    the impression of time in the music video


    much love...

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  13. The 55 is closing early this Sunday. Thanks to all who have stopped by to read and/or participate. See you next Friday.

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