Reading With The Fishes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading With The Fishes

 

 

 

For many years I lived

in a hollowed-out book

before I was eaten by fishes.

 

I can't say how

they found me. I thought

I was safe there

 

wrapped in my blanket

of words, deep in the good

leather smell but

 

fish it seems

are surprisingly quick

and genuinely hungry.

 

At first it was nibble and tickle

but soon my eyelids were history,

and I won't be needing lipstick any more.

 

After that, I took my words

and went to live

with the animals.

 

We have an understanding: they

don't write poetry, and I

don't have them for dinner.

 

 

 

 

 April 2025

 

 

 

 

 

 

My second copy--wore out the first

 

 

 

 

posted for the Word List

at Shay's Word Garden

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Images: Fisherman's Shack, 1994 © Jacek Yerka    Fair Use

Immortal Poems, 2025, ©joyannjones

 

 

 

The Edifying Tale Of Braxis The Barbarian

 

 

 

 

The Edifying Tale Of Braxis The Barbarian

(a 55)

 

 

Braxis the bold barbarian,

librarian

of axe and bone,

traveled alone.

 

He slayed them all as he mauled Gaul

leaving a pall

of smoke and blood.

(Brax was no good.)

 

Then Fate had him camp in a cave

containing Dave,

barbarous fare

for Dave the Bear. 

 

 January 2022

 

 

 

 

 

 

A minute poem for

dVerse Poets: Poetry Form

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note: Word count for the 55 includes the title. Total nonsense, I'm afraid.

 

 

 

 

 

 Image: DnD 5E barbarian sketch, artist unknown, via SkullsplitterDice.com Fair Use

Friday Flash 55 for August 2020

Welcome all once again to the Friday 55. Another month of this ghastly year proceeds down the tubes, howling and gibbering, leaving us to endure and express it in our writing. I feel a twinge of embarrassment whenever I refer to having a kickass weekend this year, but I can't help feeling Galen Hayes, the originator of this meme, would not have hesitated, and indeed, would have done his best to see we all had one. 

So, the rules are unchanged. Write a poem, a prose-poem or a piece of flash fiction, using exactly 55 words, no more, no less. Link your URL in the comments, and I will be by to read what you have cooked up out of this month's witches brew. 

The prompt will be active from Thursday at midnight to Sunday at 4:00 PM CST.

 ~*~

Here is my 55:

Song For Summer's End

Catkins, willowskins,

grey geese in the morning

sky light,  V-flight,

feather-spin in the gloaming,

bee-fumble, leaves tumble

in Fall's honey-wind sighing

her kiss-clover slip over,

pollen days flying.

Pepper-dust, finger-rust;

summer's crone's crying

too late at the broken gate

where autumn's fast riding.

Even so nothing goes

that has a song to

hold it close.

August 2020 

 

Images: Bees circa 1900, © Ban Jiaoshi       Fair Use

The Autumn, 1896, © Alphonse Mucha    Fair Use

Friday 55 April 20 2018

Another Friday whirls us to its tune, as we gather to celebrate the giving spirit of the man who created this meme, Galen Hayes, and test our craft with the 55 form. No rules, as usual, except the word count--55 words of prose or poetry, no more, no less, --and the hope that everyone has a kickass weekend. Link your creation in the comments below between Friday and Sunday morning, and I will be by to read, but bear with me as I am behind the curve this week.

 ~*~

Just some nonsense; I'm afraid I have a case of ghost fatigue...

Ghost Fatigue

I'm sick of these ghosts

wasting my time,

dust of dead roses

in each ululant whine,

their covert self absorption

their bleached back-turned eyes,

that creaking persistence

presenting the past

so sauced with regret

it's better to fast;

faces set tight in

flash-frozen reproach;

love can't save a drowning man

who won't grab the rope.

~April 2018

Image: Lace and Ghosts, 1856, Victor Hugo      Public domain.
Factoid: "Victor Hugo produced more than 4000 drawings. Originally pursued as a casual hobby, drawing became more important to Hugo shortly before his exile, when he made the decision to stop writing in order to devote himself to politics. Drawing became his exclusive creative outlet during the period 1848–1851. Hugo worked only on paper, and on a small scale; usually in dark brown or black pen-and-ink wash, sometimes with touches of white, and rarely with color."  ~wikiart.org

Friday 55 March 2 2018

Another Friday brings us to the table of word-ly repasts, dressed in white screen linen, with 55 plates thoughtfully placed for each serving. Meanwhile, the world continues on its path around the sun seemingly oblivious as human society as we know it continues to devolve into chaos on its path to self-immolation; still, perhaps we've had some glimpses of hope this week in the brave determination of a new generation suddenly and brutally coming of age in the flux. Let's hope so, and regardless, let us offer our own hope,or lack of it, or just our dreams, in 55 words of poetry or prose, no more, no less, as we remember the absent but constant Galen Hayes, who managed to face each Friday with a light hand and a kind word.

As always, please link your effort in the comments below between Friday and Sunday morning, and I will be by to read.

As for me, I have a little nonsense to offer, that's all...

Minotaur

Under the sword

you don't even blink

as if such things

can hold no power.

My hair is crimped lead

but you hold me up

eyes softer with

sheen than your ebony sides.

It's not modern to faint

but of course I do

when taken by myth

blood-alive in a man

souled by a minotaur.

~March 2018

Image via internet, attribution to Gabrielle Bakker, but no such work was found on her website. All rights reserved to the author.