Friday 55 February 16 2018

Greetings all. Here we meet again at another Friday dedicated to the pastime, craft and/or art of verbal expression, all in 55 words of prose or poetry, no more, no less. If you've been here before, you know the drill, you know all about the G-man, and why I do this, and why it matters, and if it's your first time, you are welcome to the table to see how it all plays out. As always, if inspired to write--in exactly 55 words, of course--please link your result in the comments below between Friday and Sunday morning, and I will be by to check it out.

My 55 for this week:

Ginger Jar

Love,

the black tsunami--

I think of Van Ness,

a ginger jar green-gold,

plum-smooth

the heart I keep inside it

not a thing of valves and blood

but daylight rain and

cricket-song

all wind-shattered soon

 

when raindrops

 sharper

than chirps will pound

at my feet

 paisley the sand

and the

void's mouth take

 this flower-blown beach.

 ~February 2018

The Ginger Jar, 1926, ©Samuel John Peploe

A Rocky Shore, Iona (detail) ©Samuel John Peploe   
Public Domain

Both images have been manipulated.