d’Verse Prosery Monday- Poetic Injustice

Write a piece of prose (flash fiction or creative nonfiction) that includes the line “I wandered lonely as a cloud” and is 144 words or less, sans title. You can NOT write poetry today. Prose is the name of the game!

“I wander lonely as a cloud.”


“I was just thinking about how lonely clouds must be.”

Ted stood and brushed himself off aggressively. He and Syl were newlyweds just lying on their backs in a snowbank.

“What is it with you? Not only do you anthropomorphize everything, but they’re never happy or dancing or fierce! Poets are worse than country song writers. Poor this and sad that.”

“I can’t help it, Ted. That’s how I think. You’re touchy.”

” Clouds are useful. They gather rain and offer shade. Lonely is the absence of purpose. Clouds don’t wander. They’re carried on wind currents whether they like it or not!”

Ted stormed off to start the car.

Syl got up and walked slowly after him down the hill while whispering to herself.

“He may be a scientist, but I know how it feels to be lonely.”


I Wander Lonely as a Cloud
by William Wordsworth

d’Verse Prosery: Clouds

  You must use the lines in their entirety. You may change punctuation and capitalize words, but you are not allowed to insert words in between parts of the lines/ sentence.

“But these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter

Against the blue cloth of the sky”

–from “Clouds” by Constance Urdang

See the source image

Whispering Dawn lifted her head above the blackberry spires she and her daughters had worked their way among. Her girls were busy shoveling as many berries into their bellies, as their buckets, so she chirped to get their attention.
Each of them froze and looked to their mother for further explanation of this seldom used warning.
Dawn pointed toward the East where dreamy white clouds chased along the ridge. The girls nodded then watched her draw an imaginary line along the horizon ending in the Westward sky.
“But these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter against the blue cloth sky. What do they mean, girls?”
In unison they gasped, “Fire!”.
The girls rushed to escape the patch in a fluster when their mother chirped once more.
Again they froze.
“Panic kills more often than flames. Never, EVER, forget that. Now, follow me.”

(144 words)