Tag Archives: writing prompts

Prompted poetry: robin photo

This is in response to a photo prompt/meme posted by Shawn at Shawn L. Bird on Monday. The title isn’t very clever, but it provides some context that’s lacking if you don’t have the photo as a reference. Suggestions and comments welcome!

MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

Robin at Montserrat

bit of parti-colored fluff on a rocky ledge cares
nothing for the travelers on this pilgrim way, intent
rather on insects stirred by their passing, dusty votives
for the wide-mouth choristers who clamorously intone
the offices of her days — their stuffed silence the peace
she seeks, their bulging craws the benediction
over which she folds when evening’s chill sets in

 

A wee tiny collection

I apologize for my absence; a family health issue in a neighboring state has required a great deal of my time the last couple weeks. I’ve been writing, though not as much as I would have liked, but haven’t caught up enough to post anything. Until now, that is. So in a feeble attempt to atone somewhat for this lack of activity, I hereby offer a few silly bits from my journal.

*     *     *

(inspired by the prompt “favor”)

Invitation

The favor of your presence
is required at a dinner to honor
Her Majesty Claire,
Queen of Denial.
Formal attire expected; gifts
are not optional.

*     *     *

(inspired by the prompt “evidence”)

Deniable Plausability

All evidence to the contrary,
I am not the one
who stole your bagel.
Those are not crumbs on my
lapel; I suffer from an unfortunate
scalp condition.

*     *     *

(inspired by a dream)

Blooming

Too old to be a blushing bride
(and, let’s face it, a bit
too experienced) she thought
something in cream would be tasteful
without pretension. Then she spied
the pink linen two-piece: skirt just
at the knees, jacket edged with elegant
black scrollwork. Beside it hung
a pink shell of silk the barest
tint more pale.

And the shoes! low leather
pumps in matching pink, embroidered
at the collar with that intricate
black motif. It was perfect, warm
with a touch of worldliness.
She wondered how it had ended
up in her closet.

Five Minute Friday: fall

This is the first time I’ve participated in Five Minute Friday, though I’ve used the prompts (after the fact) on several occasions. I’m not sure this fits with what’s intended, but it’s where I went.

Downhill

From the summit of her life she looks
before and behind — there’s nowhere
to go but down. At least the forward
slope has the faint attraction of novelty. She cannot
mask her disappointment that the rest of the journey
more or less amounts to a controlled fall.

Five Minute Friday

Prompted poetry: subliminal subluxation

***

I have experienced the sublime
pain of subluxation
that sense of partial displacement —
some of me here, the rest
excruciatingly elsewhere
I know that crooked
feeling of misalignment
when all appears to be right
but something just
isn’t

Prompted poetry: out of luck

This is the second draft of something I wrote in response to a 30/30 prompt at the beginning of April. It’s more of a lark than anything, playing with words and form. Please let me know if it works.

it was a bad
run, being in the wrong
place at the wrong
time, up a tree or a creek
sans paddle, bush
whacked and ambushed at the end
of a long string we rode
into a box canyon and ran

Out of Luck

Prompted poetry: deeper than thoughts

A poetry teacher once suggested that untitled poems could be headed with asterisks. I’m okay with leaving untitled poems without a heading, but I realize the title does help signal when a poem begins. What do you think?

***

deeper than thoughts run
the roots of our actions
from fissures in the bedrock
they twine, the farthest reach
of their blind tendrils lost
to our knowing in the molten
mystery of our genesis

Prompted poetry: retelling

Responses and suggestions welcome!

the stories we tell
ourselves are roots that tangle
other stories in the dark
loam of time

the stories
we tell ourselves are stems
that twine and shoot
sunward in defiance
of gravity

the stories we tell ourselves
are blossoms whose fragrance fills
the air with longing

 

Prompted poetry: getting old

This was a 30/30 poetry prompt from last week. Responses or suggestions welcome!

Wisdom of Age

I have passed the threshold of possiblity
crossed the event horizon from expanding
universe into collapsing singularity
where time folds in on itself and matter
condenses with crushing persistence far beyond
the point where life and hope
cease to exist

Workshop poetry: Tarot de Paris

Wednesday night I facilitated a writing workshop at the library, “Creative Writing with Tarot.” Sixteen of us sat down with pen and paper and let ourselves get creative, with tarot cards for inspiration.

During one of the three-card spread exercises, I came up with a short poem for each of the cards I drew from the Tarot de Paris.

paris veilThe Veil

naked she stands above the moon
draped with light and her own
fragrant hair

paris sun

 

 

 

 

The Sun

the king is a fool who thinks
he is a god
the king is dead
long live the king

paris stallion of airStallion of Air

the moon’s horse cleaves
the night with chalken
hooves, its crystal breath
an icy cloud

 

 

 

(All images from the Tarot de Paris by J. Philip Thomas.)

Prompt poetry: Anachronism

This was in response to the prompt “open”:

Anachronism

today I drove in rush hour traffic
open spiral notebook
propped against the wheel
ballpoint in my steering grip
no radio, no cell phone
just the scratch of pen on paper
at every red light