Prosery

Total Cleansing ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 43 Comments

Total Cleansing

Remember when you felt good about yourself, a time when you had no doubts about your abilities, your value to others, or the value of those around you? That part of you is not lost. It lives within you, still, and the time has come for you to recognize that.

Take a moment to breathe. In. Out. Slowly. Now, think about who you are, who you can be. The negative energy that has been feeding into you has poisoned your mind, masking who were. Let it wash away from you so that you may remember who you have been, recognize who you really are, and you will love again the stranger who was yourself.

Remember all of this as you enter the polling place with a clear conscience, determined to remove that toxic presence from the Oval Office. Don’t let yourself be fooled again.

This bit of flash fiction is my response to Prosery #3: Love After Love, presented by Kim at dVerse. 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 Prosery #3, the line to be included is “You will love again the stranger who was yourself” from Derek Walcott’s “Love After Love.” My flash fiction also meets the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly.

Image source: Tulsa World (Bruce Plante)

Reflecting on Darkness

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 5 Comments

Reflecting on Darkness as it appears below is flawed – note the duplication of paragraph #2 in paragraph #1.  I have corrected that with Reflecting on Darkness ~ Reboot, but I am leaving this version here as a reminder to myself to pay closer attention when using the editor.      …      Ken G.

Reflecting on Darkness

And what of that darkness? Should I let it consume me? The light I cast may be a faint reflection, but it is here, always, the only shadows falling beneath the measured steps of men long gone, or cast by the occasional passing of that globe of beauty amid the darkness.

And what of that darkness? Should I let it consume me? The light I cast may be a faint reflection, but it is here, always, the only shadows falling beneath the measured steps of men long gone, or cast by the occasional passing of that globe of beauty amid the darkness.

Perhaps that orb gazes towards me, the same questions crossing its mind as it ponders the darkness that surrounds us. Can there be more to this world, or that, than meets the eye?

I dreamt I was the moon.

I used that line, “I dreamt I was the moon,” in my last post always early morning, a magnetic poem. I was away for a week, returning the evening of July 22nd, and apparently glanced at the dVerse prompt (now closed) before setting aside writing to work on another project for a few days. When I found the line in my notes, I assumed it was for a poem and went from there. I’m glad that Jane and Merril reminded me about the original prompt (now closed).

This bit of flash fiction is my response to Prosery #2, presented by Sarah at dVerse. 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 Prosery #2, the line to be included is “I dreamt I was the moon” from Alice Oswald’s “Full Moon.” My flash fiction also meets the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly.

Image source: ©NASA (Earthrise)

Ken G.

Final Lament ~ prosery

/ Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 27 Comments

Final Lament

I paddle along a river on a quiet morning. Except for the hoarse “kee-eeeee-arr” of a hawk high overhead, the air is as still as the water. Drifting between the shadow of overhanging trees and the light of open air, I see a lone Mourning Dove on a branch of a dead oak at the edge of a small bluff. The silence is broken as it seems to address me with its lamenting call. As plaintive as it sounds, there is a comforting tone to it, perfect for the serenity of the morning.

I drift past, leaving it well behind me, when, far away, an interrupted cry reaches me. Dragging my paddle to the side of my kayak, I swing around to see the hawk dropping to the ground beneath the oak, dove tightly clutched, reminding me of the fragile nature of my surroundings.

This bit of flash fiction is my response to Prosery #1, presented by Björn at dVerse. 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 Prosery #1, the line to be included is “When far away an interrupted cry” from Robert Frost’s “Acquainted with the Night.” My flash fiction also meets the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly.

Image source: The Cornell Lab of Ornithology (edited here)