Friday, December 15, 2017

Friday 55 December 15 2017

Another Friday swings us around to the writing table where 55 words make up a meal. This time of year I always find complicated; the social pressures, the meretricious and constant blare of exploitative advertisement, and various reefs and shoals of real life often combine to annul the festive, let alone that anticipatory sense of joy the holidays once may have brought to us as children. Nevertheless, it is a rich time, and I hope we can bring some of its fruits to our Friday cornucopia.

The rules remain the same--no rules, except to write 55 words of prose or poetry, no more, no less, and link in the comments below between Friday and Sunday. Many thanks to Galen Hayes for making this meme the pleasure it is, and a holiday toast to absent friends, in his honor.

The spirits here are not in a particularly seasonal mood...

 The Crow Shaman

The crow-shaman
knows the bones,
knows the fighting dance
where flesh is sweetest;

how to open secret doors
to rich warm ruby
meals beneath tough skin;

how something small, something shiny
can be stolen and made magic
even without hands.

Each death, each face,
each twilight rise
beneath his night-wide wings
he owns forever.

~December 2017

 Factoid: Crows remember and recognize individual human faces.

 Image via internet, author unknown.  Fair use.

Friday, December 8, 2017

Friday 55 December 8 2017

Welcome, fellow travelers. Another Friday finds us collected here to assemble our jigsaw thoughts into our own 55 word puzzles, and to remember Galen Hayes, the originator of this meme. There are no rules, strings or obligations, except that you write a piece of prose or poetry in 55 words--no more, nor less-- and post a link in the comments below between Friday morning and Sunday afternoon. Comment moderation is off now as I am so often out of pocket these days, but I still wield the ban-hammer and will delete any trollish appearances.

So, this week, winter came...

First Day Of Winter

I woke to a turquoise sky
with nothing in her pockets; no sun,
no moon, no scrap
of smoke or cloud. 

Day was missing,
night had wandered off.

My mind was all she had, sister
twinned to her blank eternity,
summer's embers 
ashed to blue clinker

without a tear to soften us
until the rain.

~December 2017


Image: Roman Nose Park, Turquoise Sky, 11-29-2014, ©joyannjones  Manipulated.

Friday, December 1, 2017

Friday 55 December 1 2017

Welcome to the Friday pilgrimage, dear readers and friends. Here we collect ourselves and our words amid the chaos of this world we inhabit, to remember a man who shared his enthusiasm for life and his humor and support for others by originating this meme, Galen Hayes. As always, there are no rules or obligations except that your contribution must consist of 55 words--no more, no less--of prose or poetry, and be linked in the comments below between Friday morning and Sunday afternoon. Let us see what you can do with 55 words.

Due to a brain error on my part, the 55 is late to post! Apologies to all and here is my effort..

More Thanks To The God Of Spaces

For gentian space between charcoal
and coral that keeps sunrise
from snapping the heart;

for void between cars
sluiced into exempt
from today's deathrace-lottery;

for this finishing space
where body rots
but spirit flies up,

veils of flesh rippling
with no touch left
save mother-child's, intemerate:
this shoreless space between breaths
before darkness expands.

~November 30, 2017

The Friday 55 is closed til next week. Thanks to all who played.

Note: definition: intemerate

Image: Sunrise Sunset, ©joyannjones 2014, manipulated.

Friday, November 24, 2017

Friday 55 Thanksgiving Edition November 24 2017

Welcome to all who celebrate and all who don't this annual American voyage into the triumph of materialism over spirituality, known without a shred of irony as Thanksgiving. On this day we gorge ourselves painfully, watch football or not, gather with family and friends if we are so blessed, and then go out and spend our cash on trinkets and baubles in a mad frenzy of manipulated marketing. The original purpose of this holiday (to mark the kindness of the Native peoples to the starving Pilgrims) has devolved into a caricature, and the spirit of being grateful for such things seems to be lurking somewhere else. Nonetheless, there are many things to be grateful for, not least the memory of a warm-hearted and giving man named Galen Hayes, and the opportunity to share our words here in the meme he began--55 of them, no more no less--and of course, to enjoy our family and friends in spite of everything. So if you have found the time or the inspiration to write a 55 this week, please leave a link in the comments, and I will be by to check it out. Either way, happiest of holidays to all. This prompt will be good through Sunday.

And here is mine, in the spirit of the occasion...

Thanks Given

Thanks to the little god that
Hides in the moon, lord of night-dance
And spaces. On his face the sun, his back the dark,
Never talking, hands open;
Knowing to last you can't clamp on to
Fire or ice either one. He's my guide
Until the journey's done, from
Love to loss to harvest home.

~November 2017

Thanks to all who played. The 55 is closed till next week.

Images: The Harvest Moon, 1892, by Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Public Domain.
Moon and Cow, 1963, ©Alex Colville. All rights reserved. Fair use.