micrometrySand loss slides off layers
sea stone sleets into silica
pumice blows over brick grains
shell shards sprinkle snow frost
quartz gold speckles sparks
flesh tone peels off slivers
scab grounds drop off cornices
surface dust dries tooth grit
serpentine sea froths into slate
wind darts shave off escape
writers hide in dune grains
(This poem, without the final line, was written in a rare contemplative moment during 4 hours on isolated sand dunes near my home in California. )
This is a poem written in exactly 55 words, shared with my writing workshop and deemed more than an exercise. If you want to meet the challenge, write a short story or poem in exactly 55 words, and let Mr Knowitall know HERE
I didn't realize that Geology could be so very contemplative!
ReplyDeleteLets try something...
"You dance on the beach
Forming Sand Dunes in the Mist...
....My Biotite Schist!!!
Ha!!
So you can Haiku that shit..er Schist as well?
Di....?
You are indeed fabulous...
Have a Kick Ass Week-End....G-Daddy
Hey, you did not just sit there and write this out--there is plenty of thought in here, and--I mean, where do I find stuff like this:
ReplyDelete"Sand loss slides off layers sea stone sleets into silica..." WOW! Thanks!
My putrid effort is HERE
Wow, that was awesome. Can you spend more contemplative moments on sand dunes, I wanted more. (Now I wonder what the last line was...)
ReplyDeleteMy 55 is here
Very tactile poem! I can feel the grit of it.
ReplyDeleteMy 55 is up.
Dianne, I am loving the way the words slide off my tongue or burst from my lips when I say them. This calls for reading aloud!
ReplyDeletei think maybe writers are the dune as times...worn away by the elements, refined until ready...nice 55.
ReplyDeletemine is up!
William Blake - Auguries of Innocence
ReplyDeleteTo see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
Gone for romantic tragedy today. Click here to read my 55 story.
"Writers hide in dune grains" - like this - would love to hide there myself - sounds promising
ReplyDeleteGritty fifty-five! I dig it!
ReplyDeletesmart and playful 55.
ReplyDeletelove the words and their richness..
I had to read this one out loud- it's so gritty I can feel the sand between my teeth and hear the sizzle of the grains blowing against my face.
ReplyDeleteAhhh, the inspiring warmth of sand and sea. My 55 is HERE .
ReplyDeleteYou caught me by surprise with the writer at the end.
ReplyDeleteThis is lovely, Dianne!
ReplyDeleteGirl, you asked! That is a violin in my header...but wish I did have an electricified fiddle. My own is a "Georges Chanot" made in Paris (France, not Kentucky--grin!) in 1856, before Lincoln was president..could easily buy a small house for what it is worth.
ReplyDeleteBought it in 1950 for, so it and I know one another quite well, ya know? Have a story about my violin, which I'll blog tonight--thanks to your question. I'll throw a link to your blog into the mix, OK?