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 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. |
Laundering money is a dirty business but unclean hands are always manicured. Money can usually buy forgiveness, if one can come up with the right figure. But whether dirty or clean, even in a suit and tie, my bank account is lean, and I can’t understand why Written for "PromptMaster !"  Task Prompt Task Prompt: Write a poem where you’re mad at irony because you don’t understand it. |
The sign on the cemetery at St Mary’s Says “Exit Only”, so one must be wary. If you linger about, there’s only one way out. And to the exit you’re bound to be carried! Written for "PromptMaster !" Prize Prompt The most inspiring thing you'd find on a warning sign (no one said it couldn't be a limerick) |
| Handmade Gifts Her stray hairs stayed by hand instead of a brush, she sits in a confluence of strings and threads, which flow from totes and baskets and bags, knotted on needles and looms and hooks. She’s waited too long to start, hence the rush. She should have shopped Amazon instead. Then it would be paper and ribbons and nametags wrapped round neckties and booze and books. Written for "PromptMaster !" Task Prompt: Write a poem using polysyndeton: adding multiple conjunctions in close succession for emphasis (e.g., “We lived and laughed and loved and left”). |
| Nature is reverently silent, an audience holding its breath until the curtain rains down. The spotlight flashes upon me, and all the trees wave their arms Crack! and the spell is broken The applause is deafening. I take my bow, for "I am the storm". 9 lines Written for "PromptMaster !" Prompt - the most pretentious thing to say aloud ion a thunmderstorm |
If you’re having lunch with the gang best bring something juicy some gossip to spread about the uninvited, lest the chatter be about you. The pressure is on to entertain and defend, to choose the news without regard for the truth and keep the focus on them. But that fateful day I was tired and hungry grasping at breadsticks the water left me wanting I was fading into obscurity sinking under the table I wanted attention paid - a meager salary, nothing grand just a shocked look on a face a wave of an incredulous hand. Ignored amidst the clicking of veneers and caps. the clucking of tongues and faces aghast, I struggled to find a tidbit to share someone to care but to the gang I seemed invisible, absentee and in my haste to please I started a rumor about me. Prize Prompt: The thing that started the rumor. |
A holiday snowfall, as if decreed by Hallmark fluttered by the window, softly dancing demanded that coziness increase The electric fireplace pretended to crackle but only hummed and thrummed its flames cheerfully choreographed Creamy cocoa swirled, lifted a steamy finger nudged my senses, it overcame me with giddy gulps of sugared comfort and swaddled in a sheepskin blanket carefully cocooned, I tried to imagine That half that warmth was still you Task Prompt: Write a poem about loneliness using warm, inviting language. |
| 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. |
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