Hope – 55

Does hope really
have feathers?

Or is it green
and vulnerable
springing
up from the ground?

Or is it a tiny speck of light
like the occasional spot
appearing
in a photograph
not visible
through the lens
but there on the image

Or is hope a dark
insubstantial thing
following like a shadow
hunting you down

 

55 words for Hedgewitch who carries on the proud tradition at Verse Escape.

NaPoWriMo #26

It feels like I’m just sitting
in my chair, typing
and drinking coffee,
but actually I’m spinning
almost 1000 miles an hour,
and travelling through space
on this biggish rock
we call Earth
at about 18 miles per second
Isn’t that remarkable?

And is it any wonder
I’m exhausted
at the end of the day?

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

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.”)

25

I hold the disk of the moon
under my tongue
and count to one hundred
I feel it dissolve
as the silvery coolness
slips down my throat
curls in my belly
I swallow the moon
then keep her wisdom
in my blood
under my skin
no one knows
but they can see
I am radiant

You might want to take a peek at Verse Escape.

 

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.