Prosery

Gray Funk ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 17 Comments

Gray Funk

Alone, I sit cross-legged on the shore of this small lake watching the swans that paddle a slight distance away. On any other day they might cast a brilliant white reflection on a pool of blue, but in the gloomy atmosphere of an overcast day they seem little more than gray shadows on a darkened field. Two of them seem to patrol, as if on guard, as they move in a wide circle around the others. Those gathered in the center feed on the grass that grows from the bottom as they upend themselves, as if to show just what they think about what is going on in this wretched world.

Don’t be concerned for the state I’m in. I know that the clouds will pass. So, too, will this funk that has taken hold of me. In the tender gray, I swim undisturbed.

 This is my response to dVerse Prosery – On this Day: Happy December 5 Birthday Poets, the prompt from Lisa at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, where the challenge is to write a prosery, flash fiction or creative nonfiction, with a 144-word limit (here, exactly 144 words). Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line is from Sullivan County, by Celia Dropkin: “in the tender gray, I swim undisturbed”

A Scattering of Poems ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 24 Comments

A Scattering of Poems

In the street of the sky, night walks, scattering poems. In the streets below, poets follow, gathering inspiration in hopes of doing justice to that which cannot be equaled. They speak of a distant darkness filled with a light that seems just out of reach, one that appears as a mist yet offers sparkling clarity. Each might write about the vast expanse that seems to wrap around her, or about the countless points of surrounding light, of which he is one.

Those who read, who listen, will understand and recognize the beauty that can bring such inspiration. They will join the poets, become poets, themselves. The streets will be filled with those who walk the night. Their numbers will be such that they stretch halfway around the globe, and night will see the reward that the people have reaped from its scattering of poems.

 This is my response to Prosery: Tulips & Chimneys, the prompt from Linda Lee Lyberg at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, where the challenge is to write a prosery, flash fiction or creative nonfiction, with a 144-word limit (here, exactly 144 words). Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line is from Tulips & Chimneys, by E. E. Cummings – the last line of IX Impressions: “in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems”

The image is a crop of a larger image from Astronomy Picture of the Day
“Two Comets in Southern Skies” – Copyright: Jose J. Chambo (Cometografia)

A Clean Cut ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 38 Comments

A Clean Cut

His name does not come easily to her, and that is good. She refuses to speak it and would consider herself blessed if she never heard it again. For all the damage he caused her, she is now in a better place with that part of her life behind her. She’s had it sliced away. Leaving a scar would mean admitting that he is still a part of her. But there are no scars. It was a clean cut. Several clean cuts, in fact.

So, she was cutting his steak too thin for his liking? Within seconds of receiving a blow to the side of her head for once more failing to meet his standards, she drove the knife into his heart. Many, many cuts later, his body was bagged and ready for a night trip to the landfill. All traces of him gone.

 This is my response to Prosery: slices and scars, the prompt from Sarah at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, where the challenge is to write a prosery, flash fiction or creative nonfiction, with a 144-word limit (here, exactly 144 words). Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line is from Liverpool, by Michael Donaghy: “she’s had it sliced away leaving a scar.”

Image source: freepik.com

Winging It in the Zombie Apocalypse ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 28 Comments

Winging It in the Zombie Apocalypse

Oh, the wonders of science, and all they make possible. For decades, genetic manipulation has allowed us to transport ourselves through levitation. Then there’s the resistance to disease. The common cold no longer troubles us, and COVID, despite the continued appearance of mutant variants, has been deterred with simple gene therapy.

However, the delay in eliminating avian flu has proven to be a deadly mistake, compounded by the crossbreeding of two viruses. This became apparent at a free-range poultry farm in Iowa, where the bodies of workers have been found lying among roaming chickens eagerly pecking away at their newfound meal. The workers had fallen from the sky, victims of SARS-CoV-ian. And so, like many, I live in fear, for how can I be sure I shall see again the world on the first of May, with the coming of the Zombie CoV-ian Apocalypse.

 This is my response to Prosery: Sara Teasdale and May, the prompt from Merril at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, where the challenge is to write a prosery, flash fiction or creative nonfiction, with a 144-word limit (here, exactly 144 words). Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line is the opening line from May Day, by Sara Teasdale.

For how can I be sure
I shall see again
The world on the first of May
                              – Sara Teasdale

Image source:
pngitem.com (chicken), fao.org (bird flu virus), Wikimedia Commons (SARS CoV-2)

Sweet January ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 19 Comments

Sweet January

It was on a chilly day in early March that she flew into Buffalo. Two months had passed since we had been together, but it seemed like two years. Within seconds, it seemed as though we had never been apart. After one night at my place, we drove to the Finger Lakes for a romantic weekend. Our stay at a bed and breakfast in Geneva, with all its splendor, was wonderful, as was the scenery as we drove along the snow covered valley of Seneca Lake, touring the area’s wineries. It wouldn’t be until July that I would leave behind snowy winters and move to Missouri to be with her. Talk what you please of future spring and sun-warm’d sweet tomorrow, but, for that wonderful week in March, it might just as well have been July, for all the warmth that filled my heart.

 This is my response to Prosery: When it comes to Christina Georgina Rossetti, the prompt from Sanaa at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, where the challenge is to write a prosery, flash fiction or creative nonfiction, with a 144-word limit (here, exactly 144 words). Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line is the opening line from A Daughter of Eve, by Christina Rossetti.

Talk what you please of future spring and sun-warm’d sweet tomorrow.
– Christina Georgina Rossetti

On Holding Nothing ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 23 Comments

On Holding Nothing

Behind me, decades. Around me, the same. Past and present seemed as one. A life may change, but making this change, from one moment to the next, meant an adjustment that I could not make overnight, even when I knew it had been a long time coming.

Harmony can be deceptive, and an underlying discord had been woven through ours for many years. It had been much easier to dismiss it than to face it head on, but there it was. Holding on to something that, in truth, was long gone, I wandered, lonely as a cloud in skies that seemed to hold only darkness.

Yet, as time passed, I came to realize that the darkness had been there for a long time. Once I let those decades slip away, I left the storm clouds behind. Ahead of me were nothing but blue skies.

 This is my response to Winter Be Gone!, the prompt from Lillian at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, where the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit (here, exactly 144 words). Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line to be included is the opening  line from”I wandered lonely as a Cloud,” by William Wordsworth.

I wandered lonely as a cloud
– William Wordsworth

Photo by Aakanksha Panwar on Unsplash

And… YAY!! New laptop.  It feels good to have those problems behind me.

More Than One Day ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 25 Comments

More Than One Day

The ills that have befallen our world are a direct result of our actions, from discarded waste that would choke the creatures we profess to cherish, to weather conditions that will not improve, no matter how heated the discussions, if nothing is done to change the practices that harm the very air we breathe. We are partners in her course and must turn it in a direction that would cherish nature.

Some will talk of the labors that have brought advances to mankind and ask why we should not enjoy those benefits. If that be your stance, then take a holiday. Just one day. And bring no book, for this one day we’ll give to idleness, mindful that for every day that follows we must accept our responsibility and put forth the effort needed to reverse those ills we have placed upon our world.

 

This is my response to Prosery: Bring no book! With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit (here, exactly 144 words). Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line to be included is from”Lines written at a small distance from my house,” by William Wordsworth.

And bring no book; for this one day
We’ll give to idleness
                            – William Wordsworth

Also shared with earthweal weekly challenge: NATIVE TO THE NOW.

Image source: The Conversation

Bombarded ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 13 Comments

 

Bombarded

Who is to say what will wear down a man?

Bringing my mother into our home? No one wanted to see her in a nursing home, so she lived with me for more than two years. It certainly wore down something. My divorce is proof of that, though, in truth, it had been a long time coming.

Once my mother did go into a nursing home it was only three months before she was gone. But that wasn’t the end of it. Even as my mother’s health was failing, my sister was fighting a losing battle with cancer. Here it is a year later, and my sister is gone.

Would all of this be enough to wear down a man? How does anyone recover from three major hits in that short of a span? I need to know. I am bombarded yet I stand.

 

This is my response to Prosery: Bombarded, the prompt from Merril at dVerse Poets Pub. With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit (here, exactly 144 words). Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line to be included is from “Planetarium,” by Adrienne Rich.

“I am bombarded yet I stand”
                                                                      – Adrienne Rich

Sky Watching ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 34 Comments

Sky Watching

Lying in the bed of my pickup, on my back with a jacket balled up beneath my head, I took in the splendor of the stars and marveled at the beautiful arc of the Milky Way.

But what seemed like a simple enough proposition has become an unending nightmare. Drive several miles out of town, into the desert, for a night of sky watching. What could go wrong? Falling asleep with my parking lights on, for one thing.

Sun blazing and my water long gone, I lie in the bare shadow of a large rock after two days and nights of walking. I realize I am seeing clouds in what was clear sky just moments ago, but these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter against the blue cloth of the sky.

I close my eyes and wait for rain that never comes.

 

This is my response to Prosery: Clouds, the prompt from Merril at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit. Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line to be included is from “Clouds,” by Constance Urdang

“But these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter
Against the blue cloth of the sky”
                                                                           – Constance Urdang

I’ve met the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly.

Image source: wallpaperseden.com

What Is Nine Hundred Miles? ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 28 Comments

What Is Nine Hundred Miles?

What is nine hundred miles to a man when family is a short flight away, or a drive in a day? Is there separation when connection is as simple as a message, a call, or FaceTime? What is the separation when the difference is measured in split seconds?

The heart will guide where the mind cannot see. And so the man made the move. Both baggage and cartage. A relocation of nine hundred miles to be with the woman he loved, loves still, and to know happiness. He learned that nine hundred miles is actually eighteen hundred miles, for the heart must always return. He has traveled that distance many times over the years, so that he could know the two sides of happiness. So it is, and will always be, for crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end.

This is my response to Prosery: Finding Your Way, the prompt from Merril at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit. Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line to be included is from “Map to the Next World,” by Joy Harjo.

“Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end”
– Joy Harjo

I’ve met the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly.

July will be nine years since I moved from New York to be with Bonnie. We were married three years ago, but there have been many trips back to Buffalo to visit family.