the last 144 star’s

Prosery – Amy Woolard

The following prose is based on the line “What does it matter, that the stars we see are already dead.” from a poem called Laura Palmer Graduates by #AmyWooland. written to a prompt @ #dversepoetrypub for a prosery prompt set by dorahak.

The last 144 stars

Starlorn* and blue we sat as the last two. knowing we had destroyed our home. We started with the whales. Then we moved onto the forests and everything within them. With our chainsaws and palm oil plantations.

Starlorn and blue we sit whishing for love from the stars. When they can only scream in despair at their child’s death. The last 144 stars set into action a plan for our demise. Becoming extinct in the production of such a deadly radioactive energy for our consumption.

Righteous we are not. Dishevelled is our home plant, our morals torn and rotten to the core. The universe rejects our entitled thinking and our take, take, take.

What does it matter that the stars we see are already dead as we pass from this universe as the bad guys. The next universe is better off without out us.

*Starlorn- a sense of loneliness looking at the night sky. Feeling like a castaway marooned in the middle of an ocean. (From the dictionary of obscure sorrows.)

Lilac Rain

Prosery: City Lilacs

Here this evening at #dversepoetrypub we are writing prosery in a flash fiction of 144 words. the challenge is to use a line from a chosen poem the line has been chosen from Helen Dunmore’s poem “city lilacs”. the line is ” City Lilacs, release their sweet scent, wild perfume , then bow down heavy with rain.” I have chosen to combine this with a prompt from a local writers group who has challenged us to include a famous quote from a film of our choice. my chosen line is “It can’t rain all the time!” from Brendan Lee’s film the crow.

Lilac Rain.

Two city slickers boasting load, bragging clear devouring a six course over indulgent breakfast. Boasting load, bragging clear of all the lilac scented gardens they built over. Leaving those who hear them feeling cold, and ashamed of their part of such behaviour.

Two city slickers raining environmental hatred on the city in which they dwell. Forcing others into poverty and hunger. But surprisingly those on the receiving end of their shenanigans, believe that it can’t rain all the time even in the spring time.

Pitch forks and burning tempers come looking came looking. Two city slickers now dead at angry mob’s hand. A lilac planted atop their graves. City Lilacs release their sweet wild perfume, then bow down heavy with rain. Saying sorry for the vile behaviour of two city slickers now sleeping among their roots. City recovers in a Lilac rain scented shower.

Not easy to crack.

November for Beginners

Not easy to crackkk.

An ominous February mood claims my heart. As I stand over my lover’s grave. Her self-dug grave. Why did she? Have to go and do that? You know that thing with her knuckles, that irritates me so. The sound of cracking knuckles pushed me over the edge.

If we lived in the Arctic or Antarctic, I would not have to bury her. The snow and ice would hide her remains. The snow would be the easy way out of hiding her body. But no, it’s a cold snowy February day in Norfolk. Our footprints have already led the police to us, the handcuffs locking on my wrists.

My father would crack his knuckles, just before giving me a beating. Mainly for stopping him from starting on mum. I was not caught for his murder. That was justice for mum. This is my lover’s justice.

Written for #dverse prosery prompt. Where we have been challenged to write a flash fiction based on and to include a chosen line from a poem. The line chosen by our host this evening Kim was “Snow would be the easy way out.” From the poem #Novemberforbeginners. By #RitaDove.

The Baron white #vampirediary

Prosery: Rainer Maria Rilke

hi #dversepub regulars tonight’s choice of poetics has me thinking of a character from my novel. whether it makes it into the actual novel is another thing.

The Baron white. #vampirediary.

In the collection of books left hidden in my mother’s home were many poets, works. Including the many printed anthologies of the Dverse poetry pub and some by a German poet Rainer Maria Rilke. Their words pulling me into the written beauty and sheer terror invoked by the written word here.

The sheer joy Rainer’s poetry brought died “for beauty is nothing, but the beginning of terror.” Making me realise how much I loved my mother and that bitch who turned my thinking around from weak minded human to full blown vampire leader.

My mother may have hidden these on purpose when paper books became taboo. Knowing I would need the works of such poets, storytellers, fable and legend sellers. Spreading fear of my kind to the human populace and cluing them up on how to deal with us. God bless Rainer Maria Rilke!

Written for a prompt on #dversepoetpub paying tribute to Rainer Maria Rilke and his poem “the first elegy.” Duions elegies.

Mushroom Meditation

#dverse, #prose. #flashfiction.

https://dversepoets.com/2023/03/13/prosery-meditation/

This evening at #dversepoetrypub we have been prompted to write 144 words of prosery using the line ” In time in space I sit thousands of feet above the sea.” from the poem meditation in sunlight by May Sarton. thanks Merrill for this choice of line.

Mushroom Meditation.

In good old England on 26^th march 2023 the clocks sprang forward in space. In time I sit thousands of feet above the sea. Why I chose to remove these feet from their owners was down to the mushrooms I had had for supper last night.

Meditating in the bath, sunlight filtering through the bathroom window this morning my mind not my own. My feet up between the taps floating as if above the sea. I made the decision that my neighbour’s feet needed to hang above the sea that is my bath.

I take my chain saw out for a foot collection party. Only to wake in the park with a bag of feet still wrapped in shoes and socks. As I Remember the image of feet sitting above the sea. A voice asks “Excuse me sir did you steal those mannequin feet.”