From my window, I watched a
man in pressed pinstripes approach another,
without a home, wearing filth-stiffened fatigues.
At the intersection of Desperation and
Doing Fine, they chatted, laughed, shook
hands. Charmed by the soulful exchange
of these faceless fellows, I wondered
how often tenderness goes unnoticed. I
closed the curtain. The day was
resplendent.

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For G-Man and Melissa (prompt: CHARMED)

image

Circles break and squares loosen up.
Stars fade and stripes get spotty.
Yin is black; yang is white,
yet much in between is grey.

Dear Abby, Savage Love, I’m not.
I have neither perspicacity nor panache
pouring forth in an effortless way.

Any hint of wisdom that’s stuck
comes from the fine art of
regretting.

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I’ve been reading poetry by a very interesting Jesuit priest whom I knew for much of my adult life. I perceived him as an intimidatingly professorial scholar with a microscopic sense of humor. He was always around. I took him for granted. He passed away before I had any interest in reading his writings. Now, I find myself repeatedly reaching for his books, re-reading pages and verses, smiling at his wit, and being moved to tears by his honesty. I regret missing the boat on discussing his words, his thoughts, his life. I regret not being able to tell him how much I love his work. The piece I wrote above is what I imagine his response would’ve been if I’d asked him to define wisdom.
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In 55 words, this is for Melissa’s Six Word Friday topic: wisdom.

Sun-glossed palm fronds no parasol-wearing drink
can keep from bearing brittle browning

Glory days — daze of lingering glow –
blurring name and face, stealing grace

Jade and grey, far and away
springing back, sneak attack upon today

Operation in action; smooth, stealth infiltration
glides like appetite on buttered confection

Deadlocked chase, nothing crowds space like
yesterday.

The past is a guidepost, not a hitching post. ~L. Thomas Holdcroft

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Want to read more 55-word posts? Go here.
Want to read more 6-word posts about YESTERDAY? Go here.
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Image by Claudio deste

Stacks of diaries, ink on pulp
Sheets tearing, spine crumbling, facts fading

Pages of photographs, colors and greys
Two dimensional faces, places and things

Boxes of meaning, diamonds in dust
Preserved in storage, sealed with cobwebs

Freeze frame.  Hold still.  Stay awhile.
Embrace the moment tighter, longer, closer.

Seeking permanence…
Finding temporary…
Moving on…

eventually.

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For #sixwordfridays (prompt: Last) and for G-Man’s #fridayflash55.

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image by Bob AuBuchon

Tinted windows and dust caked blinds
can’t obscure the tug of uncertainty.
Neither loud noise nor ear plugs
can drown out the mind’s chatter.

In meditation, worry sometimes creeps in.

Not induced trance nor wanton revelry,
rather,
in tenuous times of invisible light,
when choices are unappealing or non-existent,
chance comforts while counting one’s blessings.

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This is a Friday Flash 55 for G-Man and a Six Word Friday post for Melissa (prompt: count one’s blessings).

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Image by The Big Quack

Chance
mixed with
a touch of hope,
a pinch of good luck, 
a dollop of consistency
and a hell of a lot of hard work
helped Dawn break new frontier.
All this culminates in a choice
Of a rock star status and 
having her cake and eating it, too.  
She surprised others by choosing 
love.

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This is a 55-word story for G-Man.
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Is love too often relegated to door number three, or whatever the last resort is?
Is love bigger than chance, choice, hope, luck, faith, consistency, hard work, etc?
Do we choose love often enough?
Do our so-called leaders?
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Image by tinou bao
 

Dawn.
Dim light flickers.
Sleep is interrupted yet again.
Rain floods pavement craving sunlight.
It is another soggy day of insomnia,
forgotten memories and
labored letting go.
Stir.
Heart and mind,
though weary, re-commit.
Determined to be of use, restless
hand points pen to page.
Notes link to beats.
Verse finds voice.
Soul fills
song.

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What would the world be like without a song? Without the urge for artistic expression? Or appreciation?

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My husband joined a bunch of Oakland musicians sending love via song to the people of Madison, Wisconsin.  To watch the video, click here.

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Got a story in 55 words?  Link up or read more over at G-Man.

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bass clef by rexdownham

Legend has it that gushing waves
build when the collective baggage of
a tribe called mortalis becomes too
burdensome to bear. A whirlpool encircles
the bottom of the blue, sending
currents on an upsurge that flows
in all directions. It transmits an
urgent message. Those touched by it
awaken with ripples of healing and
hope.

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What happens when hope ceases to be? If, like me, you’d rather not imagine, please click through Melissa’s blog today. She is keeping hope alive for Japan in a philanthropic way by contributing to Save the Children based on the number of comments collected on her #sixwordfriday post.

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This is a #flashfiction with 55 words, also submitted for Six Word Fridays.

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waves by jemasmith

She has a vision.
She believes in her cause
and is completely motivated.

The problem?
She is starting solo.
She has neither resources nor help.

Is she dissuaded?
Not a chance!

Defeatism doesn’t do well against determination.

She proceeds to organize
with a friend,
then another,
then another…

Perhaps this is how movements are built.

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Know anyone like her?  Has she/he gotten to you yet?

This is a 55-word flash fiction for G-Man.

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Image by KimManleyOrt

With eyes closed and death grip,
she clutched the steel lap bar
white-knuckling curves, corkscrews, loops and dips

hearing noise,
holding breath,
stifling screams.

until

a bolt came undone,

a warning.

With eyes wide and bold resolve,
she opened her heart to what might be
embracing curves, corkscrews, loops and dips

finding voice,
defying death,
living dreams.

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for #sixwordfridays (Might) and #fridayflash55
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image by cra1glloyd