oil and water

January 3, 2023January 2, 2023 / Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 4 Comments

oil and water

speak to the truth
of our time together
the drive gone
from the start

we could better
shoot the rapids
of the wildest river
our boat sinking
the entire time

than find the drive
to refute the testimony
of any fly on the wall

no right way
no wrong
just straight through
no matter the cost

even as we resisted
at every step
no effort to preserve
even rekindle the fire
until it came to a close

This is my response to Wordle #585 at The Sunday Whirl.

Murmuring of Ancestors

November 10, 2022January 2, 2023 / Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 12 Comments

Murmuring of Ancestors

Never skin-deep, the sense of loss,
like salt in a wound, the edge
of a crevice in the heart that holds
a loved one like a well of grief.

And though it wants their return,
the heart’s bruises will fade
as it takes solace, knowing
their weight has been lifted

by the murmuring of ancestors
who greet them in the Elysian Fields,
a welcome sight even in the depths
of your own loss.

This is my response to Wordle #575 at The Sunday Whirl.

grief – field – skin – depths – edge – salt – murmuring
bruises – ancestors – lifted – crevice – wants

Shared with OpenLinkNight LIVE at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.

Blackbird ~ with audio

June 23, 2022June 23, 2022 / Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 17 Comments

Blackbird

The time has come.
A flame long lit rises higher
with each generation.

No longer meek
or following a creed
that dictates second-class status,

this sisterhood, each woman
who walks this earth, grows
with each bridge crossed.

Do not ask me to refute this,
for I can not. Nothing will stop
their search for equality.

Its progress may seem slow,
but a blackbird in the wind
will still choose its course.

This is my response to Wordle 577 at The Sunday Whirl.

blackbird / flame / wind / time / cross / me / woman / meek / seem / creed / search / earth

Shared with OpenLink Night #319: Midsummer Edition! at dVerse~ Poets Pub.

Snack Bar Alchemy

May 8, 2022January 2, 2023 / Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 11 Comments

Snack Bar Alchemy

There is no physics, no chemistry in your alchemy,
no sometimes where truth is concerned.
Not now. Never. No silver lining will change that.
Fools, drunk on the belief that gold lies at the end of
your rainbow, would sooner find wealth in a clod of dirt.
With words as filling as a snack bar of deception
flavored with delusion, your sincerity rings hollow.

This is my response to Wordle #552.

Wordle(ss) ~ with audio

April 14, 2022April 14, 2022 / Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 20 Comments

Wordle(ss)

I am driven to write,
the need within me strong,
but long hours pass
and the page is empty.

My breath is measured
by each chime of the clock,
which marks not hours or minutes,
but each sliver of hope left behind
with each passing second.

Darkness closes in as I wait
for even the faintest light, inspiration
sent from I know not where, but
my plans are no match for this curse
that would steal from me all thought,
a crime that should not befall any poet.

This poem is my response to The Sunday Whirl – Wordle 548.

sliver – breath – sent – plans – hours – minutes
chime – drive – light – crime – match

Also shared with OpenLinkNight LIVE at dVerse ~ Poets Pub and Day 14 at napowrimo.net.

Cazadero Beauty

September 13, 2021 / Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 18 Comments

Cazadero Beauty

Gently touching a madrone,
marvel at the beauty of its skin.

Follow trails through meadow and wood
to find works of art at every turn,
flowers that mirror the beauty of this place,
living in harmony with nature.

Follow the line of tracks left by wheels
that lumbered through here decades ago
and find a yurt sheltered beneath
the grand canopy of its surroundings.

Sit within a natural amphitheater of stone
that has heard lines of poetry
and seen the smiles of children.

Lie in the forgiving moss
that carpets a stone outcropping.

Witness a massive oak
embracing a giant granite boulder,
a marriage for the ages.

Kneeling before mighty redwoods,
shed tears of joy at their majesty.

Look down into a valley of green
and know that a river rushes
through its depths to the sea.

Feel the warmth of candlelight,
the late evening sun filtered through the forest.

Experience all of this on the land,
Cazadero’s gift as envisioned by a true artist.

This poem is my second response to The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #518.

land – carpets – line – down – kneeling – tears – flowers
late – wheels – living – touching – candlelight

Cazadero Nature and Art Conservancy – owned by Margaret Fabrizio and known as The Land – is a 40 acre property in Sonoma County dedicated to the preservation and respectful honoring of natural habitat with non-invasive art works. Pictures of the art installations can be seen here, and the buildings here.

My other Cazadero poems can be found here.

On a Wing and a Prayer ~ flash fiction

September 13, 2021September 13, 2021 / Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 6 Comments

On a Wing and a Prayer

Touching down at the end of the runway in a maneuver too late to provide a safe landing, the wheels of the airplane chirp and skid before continuing on a line that tears a path through a carpet of tall grass and wild flowers, leaving a scar on the land. One after another, the members of a missionary contingent slide down the emergency exit and gather in a small circle where they drop to the ground, kneeling. They produce votives, each from a breast pocket, and pray by candlelight, thankful that they are among the living.

This foolish bit of flash fiction is my response to The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #518.

land – carpets – line – down – kneeling – tears – flowers
late – wheels – living – touching – candlelight

Click images for larger view in new tab.

The Flight of Swallows

August 11, 2021August 12, 2021 / Ken Gierke / rivrvlogr / 9 Comments

The Flight of Swallows

With no cooling breeze on a hot summer day,
I trail my paddle to direct my kayak
’round the bend to the middle of the narrow river
and a bridge that offers welcome shade
from the sun, now directly overhead.

Sunlight glances from my approaching waves
to shimmer on mud nests crowded together
on the beams beneath the bridge. Swallows fly
in the sunlight ahead as I rest for a moment,
amused by their aerial acrobatics.

Like needles that weave through currents of air,
they pass each other a mere breath apart,
wing never touching wing, a simple matter
for them, while this humble viewer is
content to be carried by the river’s current.

Continuing on, I pass beneath and among them
as they dart back and forth in a feeding frenzy.
A short while later, I turn upstream and watch them
once more before continuing home, hopeful
that I might weave words of their flight onto paper.

This poem is my response to The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #513.

needles – breath – river – touch – swallows – summer
humble – paper – bend – simple – beams – crowd