Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 008

Back in the “good old days” of writing for creative writing courses in college, I found myself learning and becoming obsessed with form and structure–both in my poetry and my fiction writing. In fact, I became so enamored with form and structure that sometimes I tried forcing words into a structure without any cares about writing compelling material. My thoughts then seemed to be, “People should just appreciate the structure (of the story or poem).” Of course, that’s a silly way for a writer to think. Structure without substance is just a skeleton, and skeletons are lifeless.

That said, I still do appreciate and love to play with poetic forms. If you’re interested in them, I’ve defined several under the Poetic Forms category in the left-hand toolbar of this blog. Just click on the link and scroll down to dig for different forms.

For this week’s prompt, I want you to write a shadorma. (Click here for my initial post on this specific poetic form.) This is a 6-line Spanish poem with a syllable pattern of 3/5/3/3/7/5–simple as that.

You can write your shadorma on any subject, but if you happen to need a subject, you can write your shadorma on something related to school, schooling, learning, or teaching. Something educational.

Here’s my attempt for the day:


Seven men
followed six women
into the
lake water
before realizing they
were one woman short.

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90 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 008

  1. Taylor Graham


    Large as myth –
    a black steed to bear
    a warrior –
    or a lady
    who fears a horse’s jolting
    gait more than dragons.

    He was her
    gentle-floating ride,
    her easy
    seat. Crested
    great dancer.
    Half a ton, horse who never
    let his partner fall.

  2. Laural

    I’ve been submerged, but I came online and saw this prompt so here goes.

    Van Gogh’s Night

    You painted
    The starry night once.
    It shines still
    with your view:
    Night opens its lying eyes
    revealing your heart.

  3. Emily Blakely

    Rod, thank you for the nice comment from a few days ago on "Holding Hands". The day before I wrote it I sat on a bench in a grocery store and enjoyed a tender scene of the mom and her very young daughter taking her baby steps and enjoying every minute. Takes a lot of patience and I was happy to see the mom allow that in the hustle and bustle, would have been easier and faster to pick her up, etc. The years go by fast, faster than a young mother realizes. The turn around, I experienced as a 15-yr caregiver for my own mom (shared with my brother). Both ends of the spectrum hold a special privilege for the caregivers and no regrets for me, only tender memories.

  4. S.E. Ingraham

    Oh Rodney – my heart is breaking and my eyes are full…you take all the time you need and do whatever it is you need to do. And know this, for all my cynicism and bravado – I will admit, I can’t even read my own darn poem without choking up – so can relate to your devastation on many levels. I’m so sorry; there are just no words.Peace,Sharon

  5. Rodney C. Walmer

    Sharon I am sorry I did not reply sooner, I lost a cat about 4 weeks ago now, had to put her down after a long struggle to help her and a cost of over $4 grand. Any, long story short, she and I had bonded over 14 years ago. Just before I met my wife, during a rough time for me. Yesterday, my wife and I saw a cat just like her, but of course much younger, up for adoption. I did not get the cat, but I went through a very serious emotional reaction that lasted for some time. Not at all like me. I just broke down right there in the street in front of this lady’s store. Then I saw your info for the poem you had written when I got home, well needless to say that was just too much. So, I got off the computer and found other things to occupy my time. I apologize, but I am just not ready to read your poem at this time. Nothing to do with you, but to do with my loss. I realize, I initially brought up the whole cat thread.


  6. Heather

    Hello, all. Sorry for the late post, was out of town but in town . . . Just dropped a dear friend off at the airport and these are my thoughts. I’m sad for him and wish the best even though his panic makes my stomach hurt. Cheers!

    His girl

    He left me
    And is going back
    To his girl
    Her hand is
    Extended in greed for more
    She will be his death

  7. S.E. Ingraham

    Note to any and all cat lovers, if you’re so inclined, check out my poem in the Poetry critique forum, "Two Cats" – I expected to get very little response to this lengthy self-indulgence and to date, it has been read and commented on more than anything else I’ve posted…so there you go. Sometimes, you do just have to go with your heart. nsaynne

  8. Rodney C. Walmer

    Ana, I am not making excuses for whomever did that to you, but I can say that animals fill a place in our lives that nothing, and no one ever can. Cats especially have a way of entering our hearts.


  9. Jacqui Rowe

    Or better still, now I’ve counted the lines properly –

    I never knew
    that love would be like
    filling space
    that’s not there, opaque enough
    to chip, hold your hand.

  10. Carla Cherry

    Hi Lorraine,
    Thanks for the shout-out! Sorry about that Tagged thing….sent out invitations before I really checked it out. Please disregard….

    Kathy, I love your poem, especially the last line. Beautiful!

  11. Lorraine Hart

    Too much work to even think about an invasion last week…thought I’d skip this one too…and then…forgive me…I’m only on my second cuppa of the morning…Iain, this one’s for you brother!

    Kemp and I
    are running away
    to an isle,
    rum in hand,
    drunkenly trading free form..
    to hell with a count!

    (then, you know how the gates of giggly open…and I couldn’t seem to stop myself…Iain…help me!)

    I could play
    at shoving boxes
    full of words
    down the line
    uniform as some would wish,
    till you open them

    To Carla…from a woman too old to understand all these cyber connections.

    Carla why
    was it you tagged me?
    I am lost
    in that space
    and strangers now want to tag,
    I don’t understand

    Not angry,
    but I see no point,
    no poems,
    only dates.
    I don’t give a fig for dates
    so, what is tagging?

    (I’m beginning to believe this might be a very measured form of Tourette’s now!)

    The Count

    A picture
    from twenty-six sounds
    looks like me
    counting time,
    no shadow or golden light,
    just fingers counting.

    It’s like a
    crossword puzzle form,
    a left brain
    while the right brain sits and cries,
    abandoned for count.

    (ahem…*sits up a little straighter with cuppa number forty-twelve*…musters poetic-like thoughts to the parade ground…)

    Sing for me
    on the morning air,
    call to light
    day from night,
    scatter the diamond dewdrops
    to each blade of grass.

    (aaaiiieee…Iain…it’s a spell that sucks you in…run man! I’ll keep ’em distracted till you find cover!)

    Rainbows play
    on the scribbled page,
    real poetry in motion
    across cluttered lines.

  12. Rodney C. Walmer

    Thank you Michelle. I really enjoyed your poems. Though, I have to admit Harvest has a word I do not know in it. "The Way" is very interesting. Have you ever seen a sci fi mini series called "The Lost Room". "The way" reminds me of that mini series.


  13. Glanda Widger

    Watch your Step

    I meander down,
    the dark path.
    treading the narrow and rough
    way we all must go.

    Wait for me,
    I cry to the rest.
    I am here,
    I am real.
    I am afraid on my own.

    But, no one
    hears my anguished cry.
    Too busy,
    Too tired,
    of making their own way down,
    the path that is life.

  14. Rosemary Nissen-Wade

    Here’s a few:

    Silk Painting

    Nine candles,
    a lifted chalice.
    Dancing flames
    make letters
    that light a candelabra,
    on a field of silk.


    Late summer,
    festival of light …
    love that word.
    Love the idea of fires
    leaping, hill to hill.

    The Way

    The lost key
    out of the old door,
    never found,
    lately missed,
    became a symbol to her
    of all the locked ways.

    So it was
    she never explored
    a new path,
    never tried
    a different opening,
    not ever.

    I like exploring form now and then! It takes one to new places.

    Michelle and Rod, did you know there is a new poetic form called Fibonacci Poems – or Fibs? Google it and see!

  15. Rodney C. Walmer

     Big Brother

    Big Brother
    He is watching you
    See’s it all
    All you do
    makes you fall
    If only you really knew
    Knows all about you

    He reads mail
    Including email
    Taps your phone
    Knows your home
    Even knows when your alone
    Keeps a paper trail

    Takes Freedom
    Creates false flag events
    To him we
    are all dumb
    Lost freedom their true intent
    While they make event’s

    ©Rodney C. Walmer 6/26/08 This one’s for Amy. Sorry Robert, this is not about teaching, but it
    is if you think about it, just not the classroom type of teaching. I just want you to know, that
    keeping to that 3/5/3/3/7/5 format for 3 different stanza’s is not very easy. 🙂

  16. Rodney C. Walmer

    Amy, I know a lot more then I let on. I have a feeling you do as well. If you are interested there are some great places to get information. If you would like I can email you a great web site about the NWO, or tell you of a couple of chat rooms in IRC where we are many who are doing something, not much, but anything is something to prevent what’s coming.


  17. Amy Barlow Liberatore

    Rodney, you have no idea!! But then again, I suspect you do…

    Happy anniversary, and I hope you hPBave a conspiracy-free tomorrow! ;^) Amy


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