NaPoWriMo #12

I am no physicist
but I know about time
I know how it changes
how it bends
and folds
I know it’s not a constant
but races, then
stops and
pools at one’s feet
then scampers ahead
I know how it can deceive

What I don’t know
about time is
how to spend
it wisely

Wordless – 55

There are
things older than words
dark, feral things
without form
that gather in my mind
and crowd my throat
pushing down
against the back of my tongue

Or, at times, they rest
thick and heavy
in the ends of my fingers
and the tip of my pen
as I try to write

even now.

 

Once upon a time, a wise man named Galen began writing 55 words on Fridays.  And he invited others to joined him.  Then one, sad day he left us.  But a good witch, Hedgewitch, took up the 55 and carried it for as long as she could.
I think of these people every time I manage to coax 55 words from wherever it is they come from.

Mom

Sometimes I feel
as if my mother’s story
got lost

She was
an only child
and that singularity
is a two-sided beast

Of course it allowed her
the freedom
to tell her story
any way she liked
without contradiction
or interruption

But it also left her
with the burden
of carrying that story alone

 

This is for Hedgie, keeper of Galen’s Friday 55, at Verse Escape.

Inferno, Room III

The Inferno was deserted
We walked dark, winding corridors
among huge whisky vats
and Rub Goldberg devices
kitsch loomed, vaguely threatening
plastic harpies
and plaster fortune tellers
eyed us

mechanical music machines
long out of tune
moaned and screeched
a discordant warning
Time will win
Time always wins

Welcome to hell –
here’s your accordion

 

 

This is a 55 word impression of section three of the House on the Rock for Hedge’s Verse Escape.

*Note: The last two lines are taken from a Far Side cartoon (“Welcome to Heaven…. Here’s your harp. /  Welcome to Hell…. Here’s your accordion.”)

18

These are times of unmaking
systems fall into disrepair
entropy has her way

birds fall from the skies
buds freeze, curled tight
their potential never sprung

socks and gloves
fall out with their mates
leave without saying goodbye

things fall apart
clocks stop
dishes break

the mirror shows
only empty spaces
and faces without hope

 

These 55 words are for Joy at Verse Escape, where she carries on the grand tradition of the G-man.

6. Inscrutable

demeyer

The inscrutable face
behind the mask
holds all
things in
all people out

No
tender
legal issues
to sort through

No
muss
no fuss
everything
in its proper place

No
man
behind
the curtain
pulling strings

Only
a reflection
of an empty room
an empty space
an empty life
an empty face
behind the mask

This is linked to Verse Escape, FF55 and the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.
The image is an Elizabeth Arden advertising photo by Aldoph de Meyer, 1927, Fair Use>

Letter to My Love

I love you
but
you have
fallen
in with
the wrong crowd
They don’t care
about you
or your children

Hucksters
in shiny suits
lie and call it truth

With fast talk and small words
They steal your treasures
your reputation
your dignity

Orange is the new
black and blue

I weep for you
America

 

This is written for Verse Escape and for dVerse.