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 More poems for Promptly Poetry |
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Prompt: (verb) to move to action Promptly: (adverb) : very quickly or immediately Poetry: a form of writing that no one ever reads |
| I remember August, its spikes of brown grass scratching and stabbing between my toes. I remember the crabapple, how it seized my cheeks in a pucker so I hucked it at the tree trunk. I remember the circle dripping juice and flesh fresh on wrinkled bark - the mark of summer alliances. I remember a circle of kings. A council holding court sitting on tree limbs and surveying our sunny kingdom, ruling by divine right of Summer. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2025-2026)"  Round 6 Week 1 Prompt/Week # 1 Title your poem: I Remember and then write a poem about a memory, real or imagined. |
| two hundred million miles and nothing in the space between speeding in your godship spinning in protective hibernation far from the discomfort of “how was your day?” and “should we move to Fresno?” no decisions about dinner or furniture or about us no trying to fill the space between two lost souls whose hearts fail to launch leaving only the empty space in the place between here and Mars Written for Promptly Poetry 5 Week 52 Prompt - The title of your poem should be The Place In Between |
| Truth chafes like a belt, two notches too small for all we accept. So we choose the lie, an excuse - its fit is loose. Word Count: 24 Written for PPC 5 Week #51 "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2025-2026)" Prompt: Write a poem that is no more than 25 words long. |
| My heart dropped and spilled its contents on the floor, a box of unwanted memories I kept locked behind a door. Like shadows their exaggerated forms, mimed the past while they mocked me, stirred the dust up into storms. What a task to gather all the pieces to reposit, then to neatly forget all about you once back in memory’s closet. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2025-2026)" Week 50 Prompt - a locked door |
| What are the chances that a melody can bring so much to me memories of you, teaching and guiding me? What are the chances that the music of my life began on vinyl discs that you spun on the hi-fi? Secret moments when the parents were away a jigsaw spread upon the table the sibling-babysitter playing dee-jay and the forbidden beats of rock n roll were soothed by the dulcet ballads of Johnny Mathis What are the chances that we all wore silly grins and a smile still creeps across my face with the memory of you? Though time and loss separate us now I would thank you if I could And tell you that after all these years the chances are awfully good. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2025-2026)" Prompt/Week # 49 Write about a song you love. Ideas: Think about how the song makes you feel. Does it bring back memories for you? Does the song remind you of someone? Who? |
Change catastrophic circumstance sudden catalyst for change unwelcome and unbidden exposing fears once hidden shifting stable foundations stirring new aspirations cracking open the future Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2025-2026)" Week 48 In celebration of the 7th day of the 7th month, write a poem with 7 lines and 7 syllables per line! You choose the topic. |
| Cupcakes and lemonade, A marching band, a big parade, A colorful banner that you made, That is not my birthday. Confetti and ribbons on the floor, Gifts and gushes of love galore, While I shout: “Give me more!” That is not my birthday, A quiet day, at home relaxing No “To Do” list, nothing taxing No one mentions the date that’s passing This is a day like any other and definitely not my birthday so don’t mention it on Facebook. Please! Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2025-2026)" Prompt Week 47 Image: a table with gifts set up for a party |
| The voice drones on in my ear. I am attentive, at first. The words are meaningful but grow ever more hypnotic. I become still, fearful to dislodge the airpod. My head, carefully positioned upon the pillow - that was perfectly shaped until I shifted it slightly, and now, refuses to conform. Then, once again I wake. The voice has gone and I squint at the clock It refuses to say five and displays a time starting with two. The wait for morning is agonizing. I thrash until my shoulders stop aching But my ribs tell me this bed is made of stone I think to start the lecture again alas, the battery is lifeless. I am left with only my own thoughts, the hum of the box fan, and hope in the clock. Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2025-2026)" Prompt/Week # 46 Write about the feelings you experience or things you notice while waiting for something. |
I know a young lass who wears the Spring, she sprays it from a bottle. Of lilacs, dewdrops and blooming things, it ought to smell a lottle. But somewhere in those aromas floral are sprinkled weird ingredients. Now, to imitate Spring should be immoral but in business, it’s expedience. So instead of using all scents natural, they think to make improvements. Yet, the resulting potion is, in factual, a concoction of pollutants I know she thinks she’s wearing Spring, and smells just like a rose. Alas to me, it’s a chemical thing, that irritates my nose. Written for Promptly Poetry Week 45 "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2025-2026)" Prompt/Week # 45 Select one of the five senses, then write a poem about it. sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch |
Because I once have seen a wave its tide engrave when at its full a push and pull Because I once have dipped my toes into its flow the ocean’s roll renewed my soul Because of this, I can still feel sea’s kiss so real though far away from salty spray Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2025-2026)" Week 44 Prompt - Minute Poetry The Minute Poem is a rhyming verse form consisting of 12 lines of 60 syllables written in strict iambic meter. The poem is formatted into three stanzas of 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4 syllables. The rhyme scheme is as follows: aabb, ccdd, eeff \ \ I misread the directions at first and wrote 12 lines of 8 syllables in iambic meter I am not throwing that poem away but appending it here. I had to chop it up to fit the prompt, but this is how it began: Because I once have seen a wave Upon the sand its tide engrave Heaving, foaming when at its full The chaos in the push and pull Because I once have dipped my toes Into the icy ebb and flow Held my breath ‘neath the ocean’s roll shocked my senses, renewed my soul Because of this, I can still feel Sea’s kiss upon my skin, so real Though far from shores and salty spray I oft’ relive those sunny days |
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