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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. |
| I search for inspiration in the sky, but it looks as tired as I, no fierce dragons or angels overhead, ragged and torn the clouds are spread. The parched grass is serrated lances, twixt belt and shirtwaist it spitefully dances, as I lie here in this lifeless field. The flowers withered, only seeds now yield. The hapless bee drawn by a false sun, doesn’t know his season is done. He has scarce begun to hum, before the cool of evening will come. The trees prepare to say goodbye, for songbirds and leaves soon will fly. Task Prompt: Write a poem focused on any season using only sensory details (sight, sound, smell, touch, taste). |
| When it comes to toddlerspeak it’s all Greek to me Substituted consonants vowels bent “I am fwee” (does that mean three or does that mean free?) Who understands the toddler lexicon? it’s only Mom and we Simply smile and say yes to toddlersaurus rex Prize Prompt: The thing that sounds most like a secret code but isn’t. |
I overheard the birds and bees talking to the flowers and trees. There was some consternation in their conversation. For all creatures seem to find their lives are intertwined, and in fact, seem designed to serve the beings called mankind. The bee said to the bird “Of their greed, have you heard? My honey, they come and take it as quick as I can make it”. The bird answered the bee: “Yet, look here, can you see? In the season of my need They fill this dish with seed.” The tree complained to the flower: "Over all mankind I do tower, and yet, I am easily felled. But why? I cannot tell." The flower told the tree: "If only you could see the beauty of the things the crafting of your wood will bring." "Because mankind wants you they restore and they plant you. This is what a flower knows - For every one of us that grows for every stem they cut, they prize and make dozens more of us arise. Mankind is not our enemy When we exist in harmony." Written for "PromptMaster !"  Task Prompt: Write a nature poem where “nature” is talking about humans. |
| Who goes there? calls the owl. Who walks in the darkest hour whose waking hours ought to be day whose footsteps are sure to scare away the mouse that is my rightful prey? Who invades my midnight world who walks beneath these branches gnarled whose presence disturbs my feathered head who dares these forest floors to tread when he should be at home in bed? I own this world of blackest night that my wings sweep o'er in silent flight in which my ears find without fail each tiny foot or swinging tail. Who are you?, the owl said. Go back home and go to bed. Written for "PromptMaster !" Prompmaster! Prize Prompt: The thing an owl would explain to you at midnight. |
| I am someone who watches the tube (even though it doesn’t have one anymore). I put things in the ice box and am careful to close the door. Busy hands make short the work and put the bread on the table, for all the hungry mouths I'll feed as long as I am able. But when the day is done the evening hours are mine. I open up the Windows and enjoy my blue screen time. "PromptMaster !" Task Prompt: Write a poem using synecdoche, a literary device that allows for a smaller component of something to stand in for the larger whole in a rhetorical manner. |
The last I saw of the cat she had that look in her eye - her good one I mean the one with which she spies. The last I saw of the cat her taste buds set to mousie, she stalked and sniffed and hunted in dark corners of the housie. The last I saw of the cat was just about one o’clock, just before the chimes, just after the tick and tock. Suddenly the mousie appeared! At the top of the clock he sat. At the gong he ran down and hid, and that’s the last I saw of the cat. Written for "PromptMaster !" Prize Prompt: The thing you’d most likely lose in a nursery rhyme (like little bo peep lost her sheep). |
| Good news! my little brother is sick his eyes hooded and glazed over his good morning greeting an amazing stream of vomit that flowed like white lava on my black blouse and pants. Of course! I changed my clothes but now I am exposed and vulnerable to something quite vile that will make it impossible for me to contain the illness I expect will rise within me soon. So you see I must be excused from the big test at school today (for which I have not studied). Even though I am fascinated with the origins of the species I am currently involved with an evolving virus. Writen for Promptmaster! Task Prompt: Write about disappointment or sadness that reads strangely cheerful or upbeat. |
My greatest thrill was getting that package on Christmas Day. Covered in bows and ribbons it was a wonder of display. Inside, my heart’s desire - the most amazing device, with the most sought-after apps (including A.I. for advice). I added all my contacts, sneered at your landline. For now everyone I knew, was in this box of mine. I studied all the instructions, and set up the biometrics. I probed A.I. for answers , on weather and geometrics. At first I felt connected to all my family and friends, to interesting tidbits, and news about the end. But all those bells and whistles get annoying when they keep beeping while in the toilet, or when I’m trying to sleep. So today I found the manual behind the bed where it had dropped. I found the answer to my troubles, and turned the damn thing off. Written for "PromptMaster !" PromptMaster Prize Prompt: The most exciting thing to find in an instruction manual. |
‘Tis my last day and all is dark the clouds o’ershadow my mind. The task before me, to seize a spark a glimmer of creativity find. O, where are the words? O, where are the rhymes? My pen scratches out these meaningless lines! There’s nothing to write, all poetry is dead. The beauty of expression from me has fled. Blank pages mock me, my voice forever stilled. Panic flows through my veins blue rivers leave me chilled. I struggle against my captor, the mud of this intellectual swamp. It holds me down in inky depths, and drowns me in this prompt. Written for "PromptMaster !" TASK PROMPT: Use hyperbole to write a poem about a minor inconvenience. Make it an epic struggle worthy of legend. |
| I am writing this to tell you how I love you so, from your sweet, little fingers down to your extra toe. Your lovely smile just sends me, Darling, it’s the truth. I love your soft, pink lips, and your snaggle tooth. Listening for your footsteps, it’s agony to wait, for the echoes in the hallway of your shuffling gait. Sweetheart, I long to see you, please don’t make me beg. Come running back to me if you can with that short leg. Written for "PromptMaster !" Prize Prompt: The worst thing to accidentally include in a love letter. |
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