Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 155

Well, this is the last Wednesday Poetry Prompts until December, because we’ll be poeming every single day in the month of November. If you haven’t checked out the 2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge guidelines, click here now.


For this prompt, write an “until we meet again” poem. I guess, this could also be a “see you later, gator” poem or “shhh…no good-byes” poem. I plan to see everyone on November 1 with prompt and poem in hand (or on blog).

Here’s my attempt:

“For the girl who always finds me in bookstores”

I’ll wait in the poetry section
between Bly and Dickinson
thinking of a poem to write
& lay by your head tonight.


Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer


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120 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 155

  1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    You live
    tall and willowy
    in a world of strings and resin.
    Each time your letters come
    I drop what I’m doing and rush
    to the house, battling the envelope flap
    as if the paper might at any moment
    burst into flames
    and be gone, forever
    from me.
    Even from the confines of my sagging couch
    and weak coffee
    I am transported magically over open water
    cold, translucent blue, but sparkling
    to the lands of Paris, Stockholm
    Bremen, and Lisbon.
    I see you
    tanned, blond
    round lennon-glassed
    pausing among a postcard rack
    in a cablenit sweater just outside
    the Cathedral at Chartes.
    It seems your letters these days
    are littered with shrimp
    and news and musical notes
    while jolly elephants peer through the imagined
    tear in a corner of
    accompanying envelopes.
    I often wonder
    just what goes through your mind
    each time you sit amid an orchestra,
    the sweet strings of music filling the concert hall
    the feel of your violin pressed against your skin.
    What goes through your Soul at that very moment?
    Candlelit rooms? An old Lover?
    The taste of goat cheese, sweet & tangy on your tongue?
    Or perhaps the nostalgia of your surrounding Bremen
    streets and architecture?
    Do you dream in vivid colors as I do
    each time you retire for the evening,
    writing music
    setting love scenes,
    or perhaps just remembering
    our days of youth
    like the way our ponies’ fur felt
    across their withers and
    Bonny’s familiar damp scent after a hard rain?
    Does the sound of the dream violin
    sting your eyes with tears still
    and take you back to your native Sweden
    and it’s glorious wet sand
    building childhood castles
    endlessly between your toes?
    It is in our hearts
    my friend,
    that we are both artists,
    you with a stroke of your bow
    me with the stroke of a pen.
    We can look at things
    and see far beyond what is literally there.
    Like spiders who must simply weave
    webs to exist in harsh environments
    you and I must hone our crafts
    and live in the now.
    Even if they were to take away
    our bows and pens
    the music and words would
    still exist in our heads.
    All art resists torture.
    Remember this
    One day we shall meet
    face to face
    and know that
    the 20 some years of correspondence
    that led to this very moment
    was none other than Fate.
    For now I shall remain content
    with the annual photos and letter
    I receive from your
    travels across Europe.
    In this way a part of me
    shall always remain
    with you.

    © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  2. taylor graham


    A young lady in black mumbles
    into her long, dull hair,
    fumbles the mic for 15 minutes.
    Spotlight-greed can outlast
    a castle siege. She’s got pages and
    pages of navel-gazing. It’s bad
    manners, I feel robbed.
    Will my turn ever come? Maybe
    next week I’ll get a chance
    to read my poems. And then,
    I’ll savor every syllable.

  3. pmwanken


    In he walked,
    and my life was changed.
    I was sure that he was the one.
    I had waited a long time for this…forty-four years.
    His presence filled my days with radiant sunshine and my nights were filled with dreams so sweet.
    Until he decided we could only be just friends.
    I couldn’t say see you later…
    had to say “goodbye.”
    Now, at forty-five,
    I find I’m

    P. Wanken

  4. justastatistic-poet

    A short one…

    Dear Boy

    Dear boy your way through life you bash,
    Banging and bouncing and screaming you crash,
    To you the whole world is enchantingly new,
    And the most awesome word that you’ve learned is poo,

    The most precious thing that I have is your smile,
    It tears me to see you but just once in a while,
    I gaze at your picture I keep it so near,
    Until I see you again… I love you… my dear…

  5. PKP

    Hi all:

    I was beginning to read from the bottom up.. got my eye caught on a reply to one of my own and realized I just too fried now to enjoy … will be back soon… perhaps soft boiled rather fried! Enjoy the evening all and the weekend to come 🙂

  6. Walt Wojtanik


    Serendipity rears its fortuitous head
    and from your vantage point, I am hidden.
    You look great; lost some weight
    and that new ‘do’ becomes you.
    A fresh face and a fresh start
    with a heart repaired and spared
    any more pain. It’s a shame
    that we were like oil and a bullet
    to the head. But, there you are
    far better off without things as they were.
    We always vowed we’d see
    each other again. I kept my word.
    Seeing you was heart-wrenching.
    I’ll spare you from the same indignity.
    A nice life awaits you; I’ll be happy for you.
    If I see you again.


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