Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 145

For this week’s prompt, write an escape poem. The poem could about someone or something that is thinking of escape, has escaped, or has lost someone or something that has escaped. And remember: Escape can be a physical thing but also emotional, psychological, etc.

Here’s my attempt:

“Autumn escape”

The leaf releases itself from the tree
and falls into the creek water below
only to get caught by a fallen branch.

*****

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*****

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251 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 145

  1. Aish

    Like a bird in the cage,
    i sit in the classroom bored with lessons
    Alas the teacher insists us to finish the lesson
    wonder,
    when the teacher will let us go home?
    when the bell will ring?

    atlast the school bell rings,
    i escape,
    running outside the classroom
    laughing and enjoying the moment
    into my waiting mother’s arms!

  2. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    escape
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    a city girl
    in the middle of nowhere
    in a foreign land
    cut off from family, friends, civilization,
    grandma decided she could no longer take
    the long hours and solitude she’d been
    taking in like neighbor’s laundry
    and just left, pinning a note
    to the baby’s left shoulder for
    the man still working out in the
    fields to find that simply read,
    “sorry, but he’s better off with you.”

    she would no longer stifle the need
    to board a greyhound and escape
    this desperate landscape for the
    bright bustling sounds of a city,
    any city, just as long as it were
    far far away from the smell of
    john deeres and holstein manure.

    she escaped right into the arms
    of eleven other husbands,
    each time trading up,
    one of them a doctor
    another one a marquee
    until one day she decided she’d
    had enough of reinventment.

    now she drinks alone to just forget
    the ribbon of dark memories,
    the costly mistakes,
    the son and daughter left behind,
    the animosity busy spooling inside
    awaiting the next destination.

    © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  3. taylor graham

    ALCATRAZ
    How does a free spirit end up here?
    Not on the island-rock itself, not inside
    stone and iron walls, but locked up
    in its own small tide-bound self, while
    the birds for which such a place
    is named – the pelicans – sail free.

    A sailor, marooned at last
    in his own body, life-sentenced
    to his bones;
    spirit inside the bars
    of his ribs – go sail away.

  4. Michelle Hed

    Escape

    Escaping the heat of the day –
    Sipping ice cold lemonade on the front porch,
    Cruising through the memories of past
    August days, when we were filled with the
    Power of the invincibility of youth…
    Escaping into the past.

  5. AC Leming

    Right there with ya! I thought I was back in Christchurch NZ for a second yesterday when the post office started to shake. No one believed me when I said it was an earthquake.

  6. AC Leming

    Wrote this last thurs. Just now had the chance to post it…

    The Likes of You

    I wasn’t looking for an escape
    or a rescue from a marriage
    gone catatonic from years
    of miscommunication.

    I wasn’t looking for week-long
    text messages careening into sexting
    sessions evolving into phone stimulation
    all leading to a one night stand.

    I wasn’t looking for more in your smile
    or your brown eyes. I wasn’t looking
    for you to put the weight of my
    disintegrating marriage onto your well-built

    shoulders. I was looking for a human
    connection, some one who understood
    but all I got was a quick tumble
    in your hotel room. You hustled me

    out as quick as possible, the guilt
    had hit you then, fellow sinner, and what
    little connection we had was shown
    to be as tenuous as a drug addict’s

    promise to get clean.
    No escape wanted.
    No rescue needed.
    Not by the likes of you.

  7. Walt Wojtanik

    CARTOON BALOONS AND PARENTHETICAL PARODY
    (Thoughts Escaping)

    Random phrases float effortlessly in my mind.
    Thoughts and ideas left from other mad fits of genius.
    (Or not). But, I’ve got all these things to say
    that in a way gives life to my minutia.
    I run each one up the flagpole and salute you
    for being interested enough to read my mind and worry.
    (Wouldn’t life be easier if spoken in cloud-like bubbles;
    all your troubles and emotions suspended
    in an unending tirade or titillation?) There is no greater
    frustration in speaking your mind only to find
    yourself looking like an ink drawing (in a four panel spread).
    I would dread the moment my eye wanders and
    the onlookers can read my lascivious letching.
    So, I’m left fetching my gum eraser and removing
    any trace of thoughts (in an effort to save face).
    But if you float it out there, your muse ever-hangs in mid-air.
    An animated existence in this surreal deal called life (punch line not included!)

  8. DBalliett

    Another day in the life

    Early morning constitution
    Brings her release and my frustration
    Open the door, she exits behind me
    Darts down the stairs, through a broken partition
    She is free, damn dog, she is free

    I’m late for work and cussing the K9
    Last time I dove to catch her and landed on my behind
    Take a deep breath, sip my coffee
    She trees a cat looking over at me with that too smart mind
    She is free, damn dog, she is free

    She’ll spend the morning harassing the walkers
    I’ll worry, I’ll bribe, beg, chase then finally give up on her
    Lounging in the front lawn, eyeing me as I drive off to work
    Surprise is on her, I work at a paper
    She is free, damn dog, she is free

  9. Bruce Niedt

    Late again:

    Beating the Weather

    It’s hard to outrun a storm
    on Nature’s flat playground,
    the Northern plains, but that’s what we’re doing,
    as we slip out from under a glowering deck
    of black clouds that threaten to do something drastic
    any minute. There’s nowhere to hide,
    nowhere to run but away.

    This is Tornado Alley, my brain reminds me,
    and every wisp of darkness that descends
    from this angry sky looks like a funnel cloud to me.
    Finally, we put some distance between the weather
    and us, thanks to the interstate, and we glance
    in rear-view mirrors at the land we left behind,
    a backdrop of leftover midnight.

    Miles and hours later, it catches up to us,
    and as we hear the hail clatter against
    our motel windows, we thank the vehicle
    that got us here, which is called,
    appropriately enough, an Escape.

  10. Walt Wojtanik

    TRAP DOOR

    She lures you forward,
    a lateral move in your mind.
    You find that the illusion
    is non-inclusive, an elusive
    dream called harmony.
    Your steps, once trepedatious
    are now care-free and careless.
    Inching toward a plunge head-first
    into the abyss of unwedded bliss,
    scouting for the landmines
    one foot at a time. The point
    of no return has been reached,
    you have breached the boundary.
    You have found yourself on the door
    hidden in the floor and you beg
    for the trigger to be pulled.
    You’ll not get fooled this time.
    Grabbing for the freedom your mind craves;
    the escape that saves.
    PULL THE FUCKING TRAP DOOR
    AND LET ME FALL FREE,
    and leave just enough room at the end of my rope.
    What’s a man without hope?

  11. foodpoet

    Escape

    Echoes of whisper memories
    Scrape the back of my mind
    Casting out doubt for the day
    Allowing for a moment to breathe free
    Pausing only to return to your
    Eternal erosion

  12. Colette D

    ~ Don’t You Hate People Who Say, “Excape”? ~

    Writer’s block is great
    it’s an escape
    from the drive
    from the force
    from the want
    from the need
    A drive to escape
    becomes the new greed
    Writer’s block is a great escape
    indeed

    {well, i couldn’t think of a clever title today… and you know why! ;D}

  13. Sharp Little Pencil

    AND SO, HE GOES (George’s Escape)

    Can there be
    a better place
    than what’s around the bend?

    Goodbye once again,
    and cramming into
    his car, fairly brimming with

    all the necessities.
    A few luxuries:
    DVDs to play once there

    Sojourning toward Someday,
    Will it end,
    this road, this exquisite journey?

    Or will he
    touch down lightly
    where peace and love collide?

    Where he feels
    alive at last.
    At present, tense – but future…

    Don’t give up
    on these dreams
    of belonging in the world.

    © 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

    1. PKP

      Oh Amy how sweetly, incisively sensitive…great thoughts and lines ” can there be a better place than what’s around the bend”…” Sojourning toward Someday” and the close… Truly moving and lovely…

  14. leatherdykeuk

    Afterward

    Will you still love me when I am gone?
    Under the earth, away from mortal fears;
    no more the moonlight, nor the sun
    to caress my sunken cheeks. My tears
    no longer fall to salt the ground
    nor my blood seep, sodden, into earth.
    And will you save my books? The sound
    of my laughter echoes in them still though mirth
    has long departed the sullen land. Too long
    my poems lingered in pastoral charm,
    an undertone of fear belied the blackbird’s song
    and cemetery sigils kept me safe from harm.
    Leave, my love. Escape this dreary day
    where battles raged and live to love another if you may.

    1. Sharp Little Pencil

      Touching. The thoughts about what might be saved of her when she has departed, especially the books, make this so personal. “Leave, my love…and live to love another if you may.” That’s what I’d wish for my husband as well. A beautiful poem, Leatherdyke! Amy

  15. Willy

    INTO THE NIGHT

    Just
    four
    more
    taps
    *
    *
    *
    *
    At
    last!
    Success!
    That window
    was so hard to pry
    open, and squeaky, too.
    I was certain they’d hear me
    downstairs, and would come to my
    room to investigate. If they tied me up,
    all would be for naught. Now I must move quietly but swiftly down the escape before discovery…………..

  16. Mike Bayles

    Poeming between Calls at a Call Center

    After a barrage of phone calls
    my attention drifts
    to a scrap of paper
    left to the side of my cubicle.
    Thoughts wander
    to other worlds,
    and I grab a pen
    to jot down
    whatever daydream
    stirs inside me.
    Ramblings become words,
    and words become lines
    cascading down the page,
    and become something more
    than imagined.
    This cubicle is my place
    for now,
    but I’m also in other places
    in dreams and in memories.
    When another call comes,
    the paper flutters down to the floor.
    It is a butterfly,
    and I am free.

      1. Mike Bayles

        Thank you for your nice comment. If I start a poem at work, I leave some notes and lines, and finish the poem at home. Just as long as I answer the call promptly, I’m okay.

  17. Benjamin Thomas

    Flight

    Escape, elude
    that’s my attitude
    in conflict or feud
    or a hairy dude

    retreat, withdrawn
    like a scrawny fawn
    be strong, be bold
    tis’ what I’ve been told

    but sometimes
    you just can’t stand
    on your own two feet
    bitin’ your lip
    sufferin’ defeat

    or maybe not defeat
    but you use your feet
    not to fight but flight
    and fly I say

    out of mind, out of sight
    and out of harms way
    kinda safe and sound
    half way outta town

    keep going , escape
    like a Ford I say
    hit the gas, don’t look
    and don’t delay

    click the turbo
    set the jet boosters
    zippin’ past farms,
    horses, roosters

    Yes sometimes escape
    is the only way

    1. PKP

      Agree with Shannon’s comment…great flow and pace feel as though I’m running beside you…a positive run free of fear…perhaps even with some giggles and guffaws :)

  18. Jane Shlensky

    I’ve been having what my mother called “blue days” while I’m sick, but it’s amazing how the simplest of natural wonders can buoy me up. This was one for today, provided by the orphaned hawk who makes our woods and yard his home. I love that guy. I first called it Natural Rhythms, but changed my mind, realizing I’m invested in his well-being in ways that he wouldn’t credit much.

    Rising

    The juvenal hawk sits in the oak
    near the pasture fence, calling repeatedly
    to his own kind, plaintive in his loneliness.

    His shrill keening echoes in me,
    feathering the edges of my own closeted
    otherness, my own losses and sorrows,

    as I go about my day, forgetting
    him as the source of my ennui,
    until I hear his call aloft,

    and look up into the morning light to watch
    him riding the air currents, circling,
    dipping, gliding, befriending the wind,
    offering succor, my heart lifted on his wings.

  19. Justine Hemmestad

    A Tear

    A tear escaped my eyes when I heard the news –
    Of a betrayal so unfathomable to be true,
    And yet I found within myself no bitterness,
    No anger for preconditioned clothes though I stood in bareness –
    A broken commandment crumbled like stone,
    For in bearing false witness you also stole.
    People are cheerleaders to you but I see the light they cast –
    Separate from the lies you have amassed.
    A light exudes from truth and yet the fire cannot be put out,
    The sacrifice made not for the prolonging of my drought.
    My tear is for the beauty of love that I see,
    Even within the realm of darkness that is applied so badly.

  20. Walt Wojtanik

    BEDFORD FALLS

    There’s no escaping this life.
    Despite the strife that this life will provide,
    you can’t hide the fact that
    the lives you touch, touch so many others.
    You’ll have enough sisters and brothers
    to populate this burg, and any urge you have
    to roam from your roots will have you
    shaking in your boots. You carry home with you,
    and it carries you in its heart. When we start
    in this life we are required one thing:
    bring joy and comfort to your fellow man.
    And if you can, you will never falter.
    You may go far on dollars and cents,
    but your recompense comes from the sense
    of community; an eternal unity that is clear
    in the end. No man fails who has friends.
    Welcome home, George Bailey.
    You own this town!

  21. Dyson McIllwain

    I always thought I could be someone,
    a voice that fills the night with
    all the right rythyms and words.
    Never to aspire to the bottle like
    my old man and others; uncles
    and brothers. That’s the way it is.
    Driving to the limits of each village
    and town down the road
    and in the dump for our status.
    We had harmony at one time,
    but the rhyme had gone most sour.
    There is power in knowing
    when the beaten horse is bereft of vitality.
    Save your energy and your breath.
    A solution is within. Walk away,
    or live and die this way.

    1. Dyson McIllwain

      The title escaped. “We’ve Got to Make a Decision: Leave Tonight or Live and Die This Way”, a lyric from FAST CAR by Tracey Chapman. Written for Marie and Walt’s Poetic Bloomings Sunday prompt. Fitting the escape clause here!

  22. Ellie.C

    escapade
    car in the other lane, passenger:
    a big blonde dog, cartoon of goofy pleasure
    taking in the universe, at speed. I know.
    I walk on cadenced words for hours,
    page turning over page, and emerge
    without plot or dialog to recall, but
    set me in that world and ask me
    for a spoon–it’s in your hand.

  23. Walt Wojtanik

    JETISONED

    The ties that bind have released,
    a piece of your past floats
    mindlessly, aimlessly into
    the atmosphere. Your decisions
    are as vacuous as air of late,
    but the great thing about it,
    is once your set things free,
    you are able to start fresh.
    Step free of the mess you had
    a hand in and begin again.
    The first step is admitting
    you were a part of the problem.
    The umbilical has been cut;
    Major Tom is a satellite on this
    star-filled night. Freedom is just
    another word for not giving a flying starship!
    No anchor will hold once the tether
    has been snipped. Release your grip and drift.
    You have been jetisoned.

    1. Joseph Harker

      We used to do a meditation in yoga where the instructor would have us visualize everything outside that hour of practice, put it into a balloon, and push it out the window. “For the next hour, nothing outside this room exists.” Reminds me of that. :)

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