Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 129

In just two days, we’ll begin the 4th Annual Poetic Asides April PAD (Poem-A-Day) Challenge. Be sure to invite friends to play along. All the prompts are set, and I can’t wait to start poeming. Click here to learn more about this fun challenge.

As a result of the challenge, this will be the final Wednesday Poetry Prompt until May, when we’ll get back on our weekly schedule.

See y’all in 2 days!


For today’s prompt, write a sound poem. For this poem, you can write a poem like the poetic form (click here to learn more), or you can just write a poem that incorporates a sound (like an ode to the sonic boom or that happens at a nightclub, etc.). This world is filled with sound, so it shouldn’t be hard to come up with an idea.

Here’s my attempt:

“Light sounds”

Thunder huddles the boys into my bed;
they watch the lightning but cover their heads
when the sound echoes across the valley
like an army sending warning volleys.


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75 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 129

  1. Gregory Gilewski


    a word wheel
    looks for money
    looks for money

    pass her tongue
    clicks off tasty
    clicks off tasty

    there are none
    slams the buzzer
    slams the buzzer

  2. Beth Rodgers

    I haven’t posted in a few months, and I’ve missed it! I’m looking forward to this Friday and the PAD challenge! It’s good to see so many of the same names around, and I’m excited to get to read all of your works again! Here’s my poem for the day:

    The pitter patter of feet
    Caressing the carpet
    As raindrops slap the windowpane
    And the cat softly meows.

    The muffled sounds of car doors slamming
    People sloshing through puddles
    Wiggling their keys in door locks
    Eager to get inside.

    Rhythmic tapping on the glass
    Eases children and adults alike
    To sleep
    And sets the tone for a new day.

  3. Bruce Niedt

    Spring Song

    They’ve returned from a Floridian winter,
    and migrated north, the surest sign of spring.
    Cardinals, orioles, blue jays, and the rest.

    Brightly colored, they gather in greening fields,
    and we revel in the sweet music
    they make in warming April air:

    the wooden crack of a bat, a smart slap
    of cowhide on leather, the gravelly scrape
    of a head-first slide into second.

  4. Joseph Harker


    This was a symphony to touch and smell and see:
    we couldn’t, even if we tried, undo the sea.

    The island shivered underneath our naked feet
    while we walked on: so old, and yet so new, the sea.

    It boiled its tides away. Its breakers hissed with glee.
    We heard the currents sing of journeys through the sea.

    They made a thousand-mile song for you, for me,
    whose ignorant hand threw scallop shells into the sea.

    We listened with our bodies, cut our spirits free.
    You asked who first made music. I told you, the sea.

    Our voices disappeared, drowned in the jubilee.
    What use was there in fighting once we knew the sea?

    Since then we’ve quarreled, but on this we can agree:
    what happened when our tears made streams? They grew the sea.

  5. Arash

    Funny, I wrote this poem a few days ago on my blog, with the word "sound" in my mind and what a coincidence!

    "I Listen"

    I hear the shrieks, I do. The screams too. Yes,
    the snarl and the roar, and all the growling.
    I hear the howling and that hoarse voice too.
    I have known your soft whispers at night and
    the playful whistles in the morning. Yes,
    I’ve heard the melody of your cooing.
    And when you purr and murmur. I know too
    the echoing sound of your harmonious
    laughter. And when you giggle. I listen
    when you wail and cry, and your lips quiver
    and you mumble. When it’s faint and muffled,
    I listen too. And when it’s muted and
    silent, when no sound comes, and no words are
    spoken, the deafening silence, I can’t….

    There was once a white woman with blue lips.
    The snow white waves in the blue ocean…oh,
    but can’t you see? Remember that awful
    stench of half-eaten crabs and dead seagulls?
    And the cold sandy beach? You must, try to,
    remember some pain inside from that day.
    Talk again, please, inside of me and I
    will, I promise, listen, listen to you.

  6. Sara McNulty

    Montauk Bird

    Pfft, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta
    Pfft, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta

    We call it the Montauk bird,
    heard in the morning
    through our cabin window
    and sometimes at twilight.

    Montauk Beach, Long Island,
    here I sit smilin’
    thinkin’ about that silly sound
    and wishin’ it would come back `round.

    Pfft, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta
    Pfft, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta

  7. ann

    “Sound of Water”

    In early spring,the water
    rises in our town.
    The river spreads over
    the ball field.
    The duck pond overflows
    into the woods.
    More rain comes
    and the flooding gets worse.
    At night, the water
    murmurs like the sea
    in the basement–
    lapping against washer,
    sink and wall. You have
    planted a pump, installed
    pipes, dug a drain,
    but the water keeps coming,
    bubbling through concrete,
    clay, the deep earth
    beneath our house
    where someone told us
    the town’s horses are buried.
    I hear the water, rising.

  8. Katrelya Angus


    Could it be my neighbor
    Preparing evening meal?


    I hope it’s not a burglar
    In search of stuff to steal


    It’s Henrietta Hamster
    Running on her wheel!

  9. Katrelya Angus


    Could it be my neighbor
    Preparing evening meal?


    I hope it’s not a burglar
    In search of stuff to steal


    It’s Henrietta Hamster
    Running on her wheel!

  10. Colette ;D

    ~ Soundless Effects ~

    The unquiet is not so quiet.
    The quiet is not as unquiet as I
    thought it would be.
    The quiet is disquieting.
    It’s QUITE disquieting.
    I thought it would be quiet;
    that was quite a thought!

  11. de jackson


    The whirr of the road is an angry lullaby, a
    farewell to Portland and promise and best

    laid plans. The galumphing thump of our last
    waged words rattle roars inside my gored gray

    matter, humming and buzzing in my veins,
    ice water splashed on embers long gone cold.

    Our old torn trail winds wordlessly under our
    wheels, and heart’s murmur whispers with one last

    whiiiish. This jumbled journey ends with things un
    -found, as an albatross slips silently into the Sound.

  12. Kimiko Martinez

    Yay! Can’t wait for PAD to start up again.

    Dude, Walt, a music note?! That’s insane!

    Here’s my rambling for the week:

    Busy Bee

    buzz buzz
    of your neurosis
    is shaking my nerves
    loosening the coils of cool
    reserves that calm you
    when you ask me
    to be there for
    you and just

  13. Kinga Sanford

    Dissociated Sounds

    sounds feel dry
    and they echo within my hollow self

    they enter me and do not leave
    but they seem faraway

    I hear a thump
    and then time sprawls out

    multiplies itself
    and then comes the cry

    I fold myself in half
    but cannot make myself any smaller

    the strainer of sanity fails
    to contain the tiny particles

    of sound and they still reach me
    the tiny particles that make up an eternity

    where the breeze is a sigh
    and screams are murmurs

  14. Walt Wojtanik

    I thought my return key double-clutched. Disregard the first version. I was going to fix the visual, but sometimes you need that "sour" note in there to make the rest nof the melody sound sweet. And speaking of "Sweet", is was serendipity that my notes followed Hannah’s "Opening Melody". That sweet "sound" brought a smile to my face!

  15. Melissa Hager


    Blinding white light
    Blue sparks sizzle from plug
    Immediate crash
    Purveying rumble
    Little girls squeal
    Big girl gulps
    Shocked power strip hums
    As the air vibrates with God’s

  16. Walt Wojtanik


                                                                               hath charms
                                                                  to soothe the savage
                                                 breast. Lest we forget the words
                                   and a humming sound we make. Take any
                                   song as if it belonged to you and sing, sing,
                                   sing your heart out. Without a doubt, you’d
                                   feel a whole lot better, because without a
                                   song in your heart you                         will
                                   start to                                              feel
                                   that                                                   life
                                   is a                                                  dirge
                                   giv-                                                    ing
                                   you                                                    this
                                   sud-                                                   den
                                   urge:                                                 find
                                   the                                                  couch
                                   and                                                    get
                                   your                                         potato on.
                                   Ev’ry                               song has melody
                                   and                           words. It would be ab-
                                   surd                    to think to separate them.
                     They comprise                 the song. They belong. But
                remove one or the              other, and brother, you have
           something completely            different. A melody and lyric is
         all you’d have. A melody            lilts, it is nice. But why write
       just a lyric when a poem                would suffice. Expressed
      as such it is as much con-                  trary, but would easily
      quell the beast within at                        best. Oh surely,
        music doth have charms
             to soothe the sav-
                  age breast.

  17. ~Smiles~


    Birds’ voices
    by banks,
    Now lilting.
    Still not soft
    brisk air,
    Windows thrown open.
    songs reaching
    Eager, expectant.

    Unpublished works © 2011 Hannah Gosselin

  18. Michelle Hed

    Winter is dying;
    I can hear her death
    in every drip, drip, drip
    of the melting snow.

    Yearning for Spring,
    I can almost hear
    the rumble of the earth
    as new growth
    breaks free to
    bask in the sun’s glow.

  19. Debra Ann Gray- Elliott

    Great poems this morning.

    Here is my sound poem:

    City Sounds

    Sounds boom throughout the busy day
    downtown bustles on its way…

    A jackhammer sounds on the concrete
    people talking on the street…

    Traffic whizzes in a rush
    I wish city sounds would hush…

  20. Walt Wojtanik


                                                           hath charms
                                              to soothe the savage
                             breast. Lest we forget the words
               and a humming sound we make. Take any
               song as if it belonged to you and sing, sing,
               sing your heart out. Without a doubt, you’d
               feel a whole lot better, because without a
               song in your heart you will start to feel that
               life is a dirge giving you this sudden urge
               to find the couch and get your potato on.
    Every song has melody and words. It would be absurd to think
    to separate them. They comprise the song. They belong. But remove
    one or the other, and brother, you have something completely different.
    A melody and lyric is all you’d have. A melody lilts, it is nice.
    But why write just a lyric when a poem would suffice. Expressed as such
    it is as much contrary, but would easily quell the beast within at best.
    Oh surely, music doth have charms to soothe the savage breast.

  21. Connie L. Peters

    They Call Them Nonverbal

    They call them nonverbal. Despite the clicks for kisses,
    the do dos for thank you, cccccccookeeee for cookie,
    despite the ah looos, I uh oos, and mum mums,
    the aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahs, uh uh uhs, and swoooos,
    the chuckles, giggles, sniggers, laughs and guffaws,
    despite their communication, they call them nonverbal.

  22. Nancy Posey


    Their whispers had a sinister effect,
    shushing to lower decibels
    if she showed the slightest sign
    of listening.
    How could she resist, since she felt
    certain that every syllable
    they spoke was slanderous
    character assassination?
    She’d ignored their slights,
    their superciliiou fawning,
    their surreptitious spying
    on her private life,
    her personal affairs.
    Now here she sits, spine straight,
    her back to them, sure
    that any second, she’ll be skewered
    by their sibilant spite.

  23. Katie

    Here is my Poem "Teaching Revision." Can you tell I composed it at work (as a teacher)? Also, I can’t figure out why the spacing is weird. The lines are equally spaced when I type it, but look oddly spaced in the preview … just know that they are all one right after the other without gaps. Also I want to italicize the "scribble"s but do not know how… Thanks for excusing my lack of formatting know how and for lending an ear!

    Go go go go back. Sigh.
    But! I just! But why?
    Thwup. Thwup. Thwup. Scribble.
    Thwup. Scribble Scribble Thwup. SCRATCH

  24. Susan Budig - MIndful Poet

    The only sound zinging through my head:
    "We have a winner, yes, we have a winner!"
    Oh, please, I plead and beg like a common sinner,
    Let my poem rise up as the triumphant thread

    Yet Robert’s words I do not hear: unsaid
    Day by day, I fear that I grow thinner
    To hear his voice call me, Come to dinner!
    Silence, no detail, I hear instead

    The form I entered, surely he has read
    I’m must have won for I am no beginner!
    Please Robert, tell me I’m your chosen winner
    But if it’s someone else, I’ll stay in bed

    Proclaim I’ve won–music to my ears
    Say the word, I’ll love you through my tears

    So this is a little over the top, but I am so eager to hear the results of the create a poetic form contest. Please?

  25. Laurie Kolp

    The External and Internal Tempest

    Mother Earth’s loud
    and persuasive
    *BOOM! ~pause~ BOOM!
    drove little Johnny
    under the covers last night
    riches for his parents
    as he was out of sight
    until the thunderstorm passed
    and moved inside

  26. RJ Clarken

    Another Teenaged Internet Pop Sensation

    Rebecca Black?
    A singing hack.
    She’s YouTube’s girl
    with ‘Friday.’ Hurl.


    (I couldn’t resist this little Clerihew. I’ll be back later with something more substantive.)


    Walt and Andrew – very cool onomatopoeia work. Jerry/Chev – nice [k]night! Rob – I like the rhythm. And Bruce – yep – I was wondering something similar.

    Thanks, guys!

  27. Rob Halpin


    I flow -a wave through space.
    I’m light through a vacuum,

    You are helpless to stop me.
    I force myself upon you, into you,
    and as I enter, you begin to understand.

    You revel in my rhythm!

  28. Walt Wojtanik


    Nodding, nearly napping,
    this lack of sleep is sapping
    my strength. I wish I could doze
    the length of the night without
    this noise in my dreams.
    It seems I hear it nightly,
    slightly out of tune, more
    bane than boon to this insomniac
    with aepnea, raising to crescendo
    laced with a slight tremeloe.
    A soundtrack most predictable,
    a nightly cyclical wave of sound which then
    is followed by an elbow to the ribs.

  29. Andrew Kreider

    For whatever reason, my mind turns to the sound of fifteen teenagers with amplifiers turned up to eleven. See you all in April!

    Guitar Center, Saturday morning

    Hi, welcome tooossssshhhhh
    Chugga chuggga itter etter
    Try a kerrang ang ang ang
    Weedly weedly or twelves?
    I can’t under – betcha badda bad bad
    Wakka froooommm online!
    Cccccrpop and our thirty-day
    Back when it’s less crowded

  30. Walt Wojtanik


    Cacophonous quiet,
    a shroud of soundless still.
    Will it permeate my shell
    or has it deafened my heart
    to your beckoning? A reckoning
    that leaves a mindless melange
    of memory to languish in the lurch,
    perched upon a high wire with a desire
    to once more hear your awakening.
    But, the breaking of a heart makes no noise.
    The choice was yours to make, but
    taking my music was akin to stealing my soul.
    Hello darkness, my old friend.
    Will this sound of silence never end?

  31. Jerry Walraven

    "What a night for a knight"

    Distracted by the sound of laughter
    while dreaming I’m a fool
    in the court of a king.
    Dancing upon request.
    Singing my songs and playing
    upon my lyre,
    but no notice is taken
    until my phone rings
    and I awaken to
    of please come back.

  32. Walt Wojtanik


    Tick, tick, tick-tick-tick,
    the rhythm sticks in my head,
    so sick, tick-tick-tick.

    Kinda watlzy always smaltzy,
    playing as bacbeat to every feat
    I attempt to conquer. In my ear

    tick, tick, tick-tick-tick,
    life at a metered beat, sweet
    syncopation of this celebration,

    high elation and a quick
    tick-tick-tick. Slick in its
    cyclical pattern, mechanical toe tappin’

    Keeps me at an even keel, a real
    chance to keep pace with the rat race
    and face the challenges I pick,

    tick, tick, tick-tick-tick,
    the rhythm sticks in my heart
    great way to start the day. Tick.


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