It was finally here and the magnitude of the moment had not been lost on me. Yes, I was nervous. Who wouldn’t be? It was not every day a woman like me, who had come from such humble beginnings, would now be standing here in these hallowed halls.
As I waited, a strange feeling came over me as if someone else was inhabiting my body. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders and I felt liberated and strong. The pit in my stomach magically disappeared and I felt the adrenaline rush of confidence.
I was meant to be here. It felt familiar and I knew somehow, inexplicably, that I had stood here in this same spot before. At this moment, reading what I have just written, I now believe my signature on this document gives me the freedom I have longed for.
Lillian is hosting Prosery Monday at D’Verse Poets and has prompted us with a line from Louise Gluck’s Faithful and Virtuous Night – reading what I have just written, I now believe. Prosery challenge is to write no more than 144 words, excluding the title, and use this line from the selected poem.
Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA). In the US “Dreamer” describes a person who has lived in the US without official authorization since coming to the country as a minor. People of this description who met certain conditions would be eligible for a special immigration status under federal legislation first proposed in 2001. This is a controversial and politically charged subject and Trump has tried to reverse the Dream Act as part of his anti immigration agenda. However, late last Friday afternoon, a federal district judge ordered the Trump administration to fully reinstate the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, which allows nearly 700,000 undocumented immigrants who came to the United States as children to live and work there. Courtesy of Vox
In the still of a moonlit night he lay snug inside his sleeping bag. His mind wandering back to what had made him to come to this place. Was it to be at one with nature, or just an escape from the madness of the city. He had felt compelled to return to his favorite place in the forests of northern Michigan.
Here he could breathe and think clearly. He remembered camping here as a boy with his father who had told him this was a spiritual place. He didn’t quite understand what that meant but he knew enough to respect the land and the wildlife.
It was at that moment that he heard the wolves cry out. He remembered the sound and what his father had said.
“Don’t be scared son. In their dreams they sleep with the moon, not outside our tent”.
Merril is hosting Prosery Monday at D’Verse Poets and has prompted us with a line from a poem. We are to write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 144 words, excluding the title, and it must include the line below.
We spent a lifetime not even knowing each other. Spinning our wheels with failed marriages and empty relationships. Coming from different parts of the world we inexplicably ended up in the same city. Moving in the same orbit but not connecting until that one special night when we finally met. I was cynical and you were the perfect gentleman. We had so much in common and talked into the wee hours sharing stories of world travel.
We lived the dream until the health scare came. The focus was no longer on us, but “it”. It consumed you. Even when you were made safe and fully recovered, it lived with us. Haunting me like a mistress. Now instead of love we are at war with each other.
When it is over said and done, it was a time, and there was never enough of it.
Merril is hosting Monday Prosery at D’Verse Poets and has prompted us with a line from Allison Adelle Hedge Coke’s poem, “A Time”. When it is over said and done, it was a time, and there was never enough of it. We are to write a piece of flash fiction (Prosery) including the prompt line. Prosery is exactly 144 words excluding the title
It was already dark as he closed the car door, thankful for the red moon to light his way down the road. How stupid to run out of gas, tonight of all nights. Angry with himself for not checking.
This was unfamiliar territory but he knew the road followed the river for miles. Coming to a crossroads he stopped momentarily. He felt a chill in the air and heard a moan like an autumn wind high in the lonesome treetops. The strange noise made him shiver. He was cold, having forgotten to bring a jacket, and the hair on the back of his neck was standing to attention. He moved on.
Feeling a presence, he halted turning quickly, but no one was there. Looking around cautiously he resumed his walk. It was then he felt the blow to his head and everything went black.
Lillian is hosting D’Verse Poets Pub tonigh
and the challenge is Prosery (not poetry)
A short story of exactly 144 words excluding
the title and we are to use one of the
following lines from Carl Sandburg’s
poemJazz Fantasia"Moan like an autumn wind high in thelonesome treetops" OR choose 2) "a redmoon rides on the humps of the lowriver hills".
Promote Yourself Monday - Go Dog Go Cafe
Image by Robbowolf from Pixabay
The rules of the conversation were laid out forcefully, explicitly. He was not to speak or interrupt, only listen. He was warned that if he became upset or enraged it would not be tolerated.
These harsh words spoken by someone who supposedly loved him and a person he adored. These words so different from those of great love shared just hours before. He was inwardly distressed but scared to show his feelings, fearing repercussions.
He stood motionless, staring, and unable to form a response. He felt his usual docile temperament was pushed and prodded to its breaking point. The hornet’s nest had been poked for the last time. His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream that his mouth unintentionally released. He did not hear his words only of their delivery. He grasped at the air trying to pull them back, but it was too late.
The hall was crowded and David eased his way towards the stage. Squeezing through the throng and ducking under the inevitable signs, he found the spot where his view was unobstructed.
He checked his watch noting it was seven fifty, and then patted his left chest pocket for reassurance. He could hear his heart pounding and he began to sweat.
His fellow directors had chosen to boycott the meeting but there was no way he was going to miss it.
On cue the President of the Autoworkers Union was introduced by the speaker on stage. He entered to resounding cheers and applause from the members. Watching carefully David noted no one left and no one came on the bare platform to join the two men. This was his chance. Amidst the noise, he pulled the gun from his jacket and fired the deadly shot.
Sarah is hosting D’Verse Poets tonight and the theme is Prosery. A piece of flash fiction of 144 words or less. She has asked us to use the following line from the poem Adelstrop by Edward Thomas – No one left and no one came on the bare platform.
Theirs was a short, passionate history going back years. They had been close. So close they could read each other’s minds. They would often finish each other’s sentences as if they were one and the same person. Kindred spirits who ran feely with not a care in the world.
Their bond was deep but it was evanescent. It seemed to us that as quickly as it had blossomed, it was over
They say there are moments caught between heartbeats where love lies dormant, sometimes for a lifetime. All it takes is for that one special soul to find their way in into the layers of our mind and ignite that fiery passion.
This is how it was for them. The spark was kindled but they took no care of their fire. The embers were left dying in the dirt until it burned no more.
Kim of Writing in North Norfolk is hosting Prosery at D'Verse Poets tonight and has asked us to write a flash fiction piece that includes these words from a Louis MacNeice poem called 'Coda" ‘There are moments caught between heart-beats’. Prosery requirement is exactly 144 words excluding the title.
Kim from Writing in North Norfolk is hosting D’Verse Poets tonight and has prompted us wirth another Prosery (Flash Fiction) continuing exactly 144 words which must include the words ‘You will love again the stranger who was your self’ from a poem by Derek Walcott.
You were young and beautiful, a breath of fresh air, and we all watched you with our jaws on the sidewalk.
Anything was possible for someone like you. So perfect you could hang the moon and the stars. I was completely smitten and let you wrap me around your little finger. I would have done anything for you.
One evening you agreed to take a walk with me along the bank of the river. That night I shared my true feelings with you, telling you how beautiful you were, and that your eyes twinkled like the stars in the sky. You laughed in my face. Your words cutting me like a knife.
In anger I placed my hands around your throat and squeezed until you laughed no more.
That night I dreamt I was the moon and you were the one who hanged me..
Walking slowly through the woods, Jessica was lost in her thoughts. It had been an emotionally driven weekend and she desperately wanted to shake off the remnants of the past two days.
She stopped suddenly when far away an interrupted cry jerked her out of her reverie. She wondered what it could be. Perhaps someone was hurt or an animal maybe.
Hearing it again she moved quickly towards the sound. She had come off the trail and was venturing into the deep forest. The sound was closer now, and as she pulled back some wayward bushes, she saw it.
There in front of her was a dog tied to a tree. It was clearly distressed
‘Oh, you poor doggie, who did this to you?’ Jessica said tenderly
‘Get away from the bitch. Now!’ he said as he pointed the 12-gauge shotgun at her.
Bjorn is hosting at D'Verse Poets this Monday and has challenged us to write some flash fiction - no more than 144 words. It also has to include this line from "When far away an interrupted cry" from Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost