Flash 55 Friday

Five O’clock P.M. Release

Submerged in the quiet

of the humming fans,

the impatient clocks,

the papered dins,



Let go of edicts,

unclutched handles,

passing breaths,

unloosed grins.

The pulse buffets

as the mind expands.

Embodiment molts.

The view spins.

Cued by the respite

from hands and sands,

swaddle the soul

to refill it again.



Drug free,(except for carafes of coffee), and alcohol free, a queer let-down occurs at the end of the day.  Triggered by hypoglycemia, fatigue, solitude from a very public job, or rare isolation, the feeling is heady and disorienting at the same time.  (nursing mothers, think of the "let down" sensation)  I decided to stop fighting it and honor it with a sigh, a nap, a tear, and a poem.
This is a poem in exactly 55 words.  If you write flash-fiction or poetry in 55 words, post on Friday and let your flasher with the fastest 55's know, Mr. Knowitall, HERE



friday flash fiction 55, Filling Space

all the stars

in the sky,

all the space
in between,

all the galaxies
hidden in telescopes,

cannot fill the void
in my heart once filled

by your voice,
once held in your hand.

Today, in full view
of the hollow room
empty words form a single
galaxy between us

a heartbeat
fills a universe.

This is a poem in exactly 55 words.  Post on Friday, and let our host G-Man at Mr Knowitall blog know it all.  Have a great weekend!  I'll work on the humorous edge of my writing from now on, this piece just sat on the keyboard waiting for me to turn on the juice.....I had no control over the little monster.

Friday's 55 flash fiction: Apathy

To avoid apathy, I have conversations with myself.




Apathy isn't

A Pathetic Ye

A-pathetic Me

Chronicity of the late last minute deadline…..

Dead line/transeunt

Disarticulate/repair

Pre-postulate/prepare

Dis-intelligence/disguise

Disintegrate/improvise

Indifference/recognize

Transience/stabilize

Pathos/Aperture

A Path
To sadness/Is in a bottle or a stimulant or a week in bed.



(sorry if this doesn't make sense to anyone but me.  blame it on a sleepless night.)

55 to Enchanted Oak and Steveroni

Listen to your cries at night

Hold a candle to the light

Throw open every window in sight

Capture hatching thoughts in flight

Accept the wrongs you can’t make right

Arise today to win one fight

Aim higher than the imagined goal’s height

Release the demons guilt and spite

Face each addiction as a blight


This is a flash fiction poem in exactly 55 words.  Join us with our host Mr Knowitall HERE  Post on Friday, and visit one other 55!  This is a response to Enchanted Oak's intense and honest series this week HERE and Steveroni's farewell to blog land HERE

55 flash fiction friday, what am I?

I resonate like a drum:

Thrum thrum, thrum thrum,

singing in stone cellars

to echo my abandon.

I satiate hunger in a tick of time:

for those seconds “we” become mine,

like a flash in a pan.

I warm like bellows on a coal

from a torch at the core:

into the chest, from the hand.

This is a flash fiction poem in exactly 55 words.  Meet the challenge by G-Man at Mr Knowitall HERE  , let him knowitall, and visit one other 55. Post on Friday, if you dare!

55 Flash Fiction Friday: "Buck Off"

Head shaking
side to side,

catching the breeze
in his mane,

bowing forward,
tossing back

whipping
the watching world.

Sidling away
into a wild wind

riderless, herdless,
wordless.

A stallion forms
as nostrils flare,

whose foot stomped
the challenge first?

Skittish
and stubborn,

read his posture,
muscle tone and gaze:

to avoid being

"bucked off".





(photo by H.G. Giese.  Friday 55 Flash Fiction is hosted by G-Man HERE . Write a short story or poem in exactly 55 words, post for Friday, and let Mr Knowitall know it.

55 Flash: My Quicksilver Life

Living on Quicksilver edges:

Unicorn spikes of twisted zin

pierce steamy meringue skies

A mossy jade cove

grips a quartz goblet bay

Tangible alabaster rods slide

into evanescent magnesium mists

Slate-shaded hills back

glistening serpentine grasses

Black cows munch clover

beside waxen white beehives

Steely spider-net trees

frame charcoal expanses

Lichen-laden branches
drip dark mink.

-This is a poem in 55 words exactly, a challenge hosted by fellow blogger, Mr. Knowitall, HERE

If you post one, let him know and visit one other 55!

Take care of the quisinart - 55

-

Sacred, sparkling,

pristine, and white,

labeled with too much
care….. or neglect?

Stained, sticky,

scummy, stinky,

under-washed,

but cared-about usefulness!

Shiny, polished,

glassy, sterile,

unused, neglected,

disregarded?

Chopping
with loving gusto,

with excess

wantonness!

The scales tip,

unbalanced.

Kindly, attentively,

noting the soil,

caress it to

a smooth rebirth,

in a moment

of balancing regard.

(this should be titled, "cleaning up the creative mess" but that's too crass)

If you want to join the Friday 55 Challenge, write a poem or story in exactly 55 words, let Mr Knowitall  know it  HERE and visit one other 55 fiction blogger.

55 flash fiction friday: nightmares

-

Nightmares aren’t at mid-night,

but the two A.M., cold Amen

collared by the dankest sweat.

beneath the early crescent,

razor-edged, faceless
discus moon,

in the Chihuahua’s darting eyes

seen in a dream, leashed to a teen
running behind, silent cries,

not the beating rumbling waterfall

but a mid-night crushing crack

from a summer thunder roll

55 Flash Fiction Friday

micrometry

Sand 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

You've Got Me Rising

-
-
Pat me, press me
Rollin’ out like dough

poke me, twist me
warmin’ nice and slow

toast me, baste me
restin’ when you’re done

spreadin' like butter
or eaten golden brown

It don’t matter
if it's yeast or soda,

in your hands is best
and I’ll do all the rest…

Now you’ve got me risin’


(I've always had a fascination with song lyrics, so this is my parody on  the blues tune "Rock me baby")  nothing new here....

Life is rough

---
sea clashing,

frothing the rocks,

wind brushes a snare-drum song,

bare cypress branches moan,

rocks rattle in languid fingers,

a cotton, wind-dried
towel rasps

steamy skin,

a rope swing winds

and dizzily spins,

eyes spark

as fingers poke,

a joy-juiced hug rocks you,

coarse hair raises

blood-tingling life,

teeth sink

into my craving and satisfaction


photo: Jillian Standish

55 flash fiction of a hand

-
Keys to a portal
Tools for conjuring
Spells, spirits and addicting flights

Dare to examine the course
along a feathery, furry path
surrounding the bone and sinew frame

Unwind the images
of hidden shapes, curves and warmth
scents, sounds and pressures.

Touch ignites the sensitive spark
of liquid amber core heat
flowing from every pore.

write a poem or story in exactly 55 words, let G-Man know, HERE

Survivors?

-
What are the fingertips’


connections to deeds?

I.E.D. blasted,

arms exploded,

radically slicing

amputating endings for

funerals unattended,

hamburgers on strings,

gauze sausages ballooning,

fingers shrinking,

flesh degloving,

scars webbing,

firmly re-grafting.

Once,

mind connected to pen.

Now,

it's, " Please,

pull up my pants,

socks,

shoelaces,

bottle caps,

and put my glass to my mouth."

-

All rights reserved.
Illustration from Google images.

55 Flash Fiction Friday

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Snow wonderful snow! Fresh, and deep and powdered. I'm ready to ski, on black diamonds I'll carve it! Don't forget to wax the skis, and sharpen the edges. I'll be first on the chairlift please. Catch me at the bottom! Sierra snow, 6 feet of fresh snow, I’m gonna go!
-
Apologies, to the musical Oliver, and my readers.  I'm snow blinded.
Write a story or poem in exactly 55 words, and let G-Man know HERE

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Photo: Sugar Bowl, California, above Donner Lake,  named for the early settlers of the Donnor Party who crossed the western Sierra Nevada but were stuck here and some resorted to cannibalism to survive.  Just an interesting tidbit.