A poem a day keeps the cobwebs off my keyboard. |
| A place for the poetry that I will need to write now that I made a special book for it. |
| The lawn is a crazy quilt of blankets. Children hop and squeal with sparklers in hand, their necks are ringed with glowing bands to prevent them slipping into the night unseen. The patriots chatter while they wait, Grandpas in lawn chairs rumble and snore, Vendors bark their prices trying to sell more, To the crowd gathered on the green, The crack of a rocket splits the sky the babbling of the crowd is hushed. Every face in anticipation is flushed, As they hold their collective breath. Until the burst of light ignites and spreads out in a sizzling display. It falls in drops, as if it may land in the hands of those now deaf. Racks of ribs rattle with the boom and din hordes of hearts temporarily stop, then beating with pride, they pop into the rhythm of the national hymn. Written for "PromptMaster !" Task Prompt: Using onomatopoeia, write a poem describing a crowded event. Make at least one sound jarring. |
| I walked the concrete squares and cracks of the city, glimpses of me flickering in shop windows like a double exposure the mannequin within and the one without. A thousand other feet beat their own rhythm A thousand unseen faces searched for meaning , counting down the street lights looking for a sign, leaving trails of frosty breath. A million lives are lived together in rows and blocks from east to west. They brush up against each other mumbled apologies instead of relationships. I long to stare into the open maw of those barefaced chasms cut by glaciers, to be enveloped by the emptiness and thereby banish the loneliness. I would stand upon the edge of the abyss and call to the ancient ghosts of time. They would echo back to me, and call me by name. 20 Lines Written for "PromptMaster !" Prize Prompt: The thing you’d most like to shout into an empty canyon just to hear the echo. Prize Prompt: The thing you’d most like to shout into an empty canyon just to hear the echo. |