Welcome to this month's edition of the Friday 55, where the only rule is to write a poem, piece of prose, prose-poetry, or flash fiction on any subject, in 55 words, no more no less. This is a writer's challenge that begins at midnight on Thursday and is live through 4:00 PM Sunday, CST. No Mr. Linky here, so just copy and paste your link in the comments, and I will be by to read what you have written.
Comment moderation is off but the blog author reserves the right to delete entries or comments at her discretion.
Here is my own offering:
is the coyote
that follows the wolf.
Bones are enough
from another dog's kill.
While the brain locks in shock,
pain eats its fill.
the gash has
been made, the organ
worked loose, then there
comes the howling hour,
the pull and crunch of coyote's jaws;
pain's tongue-lolling grin
outside death's den-door.
pain's tongue-lolling grin
outside death's den-door.
Disclaimer: Coyotes are a misunderstood animal, and no animus is meant against them here. They have an important place in the myths and lore of many cultures, as well as the ecosystem, and a right to their lives and habitats. I ask coyote's spirit to excuse the poetic license I have exercised in choosing him for my metaphor.
Image of coyote howling with full moon, 2011, ©hardcoreturkhunter, via internet Fair Use
This comment has been removed by the author.ReplyDelete
Sorry for the mistake on the original comment. One of these months I'll get it right the first time. Here's my contribution for the 55: "And now is winter". I'll be back to read after my round of errands.ReplyDelete
No problems. Steve. Just glad you could play along.Delete
Hi Joy, here is my link, emerging out of my dream state:ReplyDelete
Thanks for hosting. I LOVE your opening: "Pain is the coyote that follows the wolf." Absolutely perfect! The bones, the howling hour, the pull and crunch of the coyote's jaws. Just exceptional imagery. One almost feels the grit of the pain. Superb.
Thanks so much Sherry, and thanks for helping to kick off the weekend with your 55.Delete
Am here, Lafayette.ReplyDelete
Now scrolling back to read yours. ;-)
You know what I like best about yours, Joy? The idea (maybe mine, maybe I am reading more in than you intended) that the coyote is simply doing what a coyote does. That the suffering in this is not the point but simply the natural evolution of events, hard as that may be. Perhaps this is what separates us from the animals, and yes I mean that in an ironic way. Anyway, whether I am reading this as intended or whether I am way off in the weeds, I love the wolf dealing out the mortal would but the coyote coming along after because that is what it does. Woebetide the halt and lame of every stripe.ReplyDelete
*wound, not wouldDelete
Thank you Shay--you are nowhere near any weeds with this generous comment, and I'm glad you could see the shadow of the natural order in our pain, making my metaphor come to life. Your own poem literally left me speechless with the pleasure of reading it. Thanks so much for bringing it to the 55.Delete
I love the precision here - pain is the coyote of the wolf, whose purposes are for devouring. Like death. So nicely calibrated with heft and rhyme. - BrendanReplyDelete
Mine - meh -- https://blueoran.wordpress.com/2020/02/28/hothouse-whoopie/
Thanks, B. And I thought your 55 packed quite a punch--some excellent language, and a spear-thrust of image and idea as well. Thanks for sharing it here, and have a kickass weekend if you can, my friend.Delete
Wow! "While the brain locks in shock, pain eats its fill." That is a perfect description of the beast, pain. I've seen my oldest go through more pain than I thought I could stand to watch..ReplyDelete
Here is my offering...
Thanks, Susie. I know you've had your own pain too, but watching it in someone you love is a whole different level of hurt. Yours was just that little touch of sass I needed to make my day. Thanks for playing.Delete
Wow, Joy, this whole poem but whoa that first line really got me. Just wow and thank you.ReplyDelete
I offer a far less poetic 55 here with mighty appreciation for the opportunity to participate: http://www.runawaysentence.com/2020/02/skirmishing.html
And will be around later on the weekend to enjoy the others. xo to everyone
Thanks back at ya, Marian. I think the 55 form is a good one to clarify our heads, and yours certainly does that and more. So glad you could share it with us.Delete
Joy, This really takes us to the bottom of things. Death and pain, endlessly, inevitably joined. But Death is not the worst. It is pain. And I admire the image at the end with Pain waiting patiently while Death gathers itself in its lair. Or so I read. Very well done.ReplyDelete
Thanks Steve. Age brings a lot of the coyote, but I try not to get morbid about these things, and writing is a safety valve, of course. I appreciate your kind comment, and loved your own 55. Thanks for playing.Delete
Hello Joy, and friends.ReplyDelete
This was a difficult write for me, rather raw in emotion, after the recent tragic death of a student. Sometimes, I wonder if poetry is the best way to deal with life, but if I do not express myself, I may revert to perpetual silence. Thank you for this opportunity to share.
P.S. Dear Joy, your own words resonate all to well at this time of mourning.Delete
My heart is aching for you, Kerry. I'm glad you were able to find the words to at least start to deal with the pain and sorrow. Acceptance and healing are very hard to find when you lose someone whose life has barely started,and the process of second-guessing and guilting oneself is brutal. I know, though, that you did your best on a daily level to be there for this young person, and sometimes that is all you can do.Delete