Lost in Space


Lost in Space

Nothing left to say,
our hands
on the white tablecloth
in the candlelight.

Once our fingers
would have entwined,
inextricable as tree roots.

Now silence,
no more words.

Our hands idle,
fingers leaving
space between
your warmth and mine,
the stars.

Jane Dougherty responded to Sacha Black’s flash fiction challenge, 52 words on the theme: the distance between, with her post, Microfiction: Lost in space.  With her permission, I’ve re-imagined it in verse.

shared emotion: by Ken Gierke

My poem “shared emotion” is featured today (with an audio recording) at Bonnie McClellan’s International Poetry Month 2017. The theme for IPM 2017 is “Neural Networks: The Creative Power of Language”

Bonnie McClellan's Weblog

thought, emotion
in a relay race
through body and mind
each lap igniting sparks
firing across synapses
spoken, unspoken

thought, emotion
facing a tsunami of
slowly seeping away
leaving behind
sodden ash

thought, emotion
in a dull glow
re-firing to
bridge a gap
commune with
the outside world

To hear the poet’s reading of the poem, click on the player below:

Ken Gierke is a retired truck driver who started writing poetry at 40 as a way to sort through his thoughts. He’s been honing his writing skills over the last 3 years at his Wordpress blog and you can find more of his work HERE.

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After the Rain

After the Rain.jpg

After the Rain

A friend is
and the moment is

An icy shore
scoured by bitter
winter winds
holds no memories.

Come the spring
rain, voice and thoughts
once lost
will return.

John Coltrane says it will be alright.

Thoughts while listening to John Coltrane during the drive home from Erie, having bid farewell to a dear friend.
Photo: Lake Erie winter shoreline, Presque Isle State Park, Erie, Pennsylvania

For Dave

Message from a Death Metal God

Message from a Death Metal God.png

Message from a Death Metal God

A heron stands in the shallows of the inner harbor, in the refuge of the park, poised to strike at a fish below the surface of the lake, when it spies me. It straightens, standing tall, and turns its head to look my way. As its bill slowly traces a circle in the air, the heron speaks to me with its eyes.

“Dave told you about this place, so, of course you would be here. He has asked me to give you a message.

They are the same, you know. Life. Death. And when they meet, the circle is complete. We are the circle, and all its aspects. Inside. Outside. It’s all the same. Remember that. He will always be with you.”

“That’s pretty metaphysical. Are you sure that came from Dave? Wasn’t there some irreverent banter? You know, maybe, ‘Good morning, my lusciously lascivious cumquat hoarders!’ Something like that?”

“He knew you would say that. He says he’s ready, any time you want to talk about it. Oh, and he says you need to start listening to death metal.”

With that, the heron suddenly lunged, snagging the fish swimming past its feet, then turned away, taking flight across the water in a broad circle before fading from sight.

I knew I would be seeing it again.

Isn’t Life Strange

Just as it seems darkness will threaten
A message comes in images
Of matters that matter most
When answers can’t be found
And words aren’t enough
And the message
Is one of
Peace and

I lost a very dear friend yesterday, so of course my dream would center around him.

Image source: Animals Clipart (Irene Murphy/Creative Commons)