Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 159

I apologize for the extremely late Wednesday Poetry Prompt. In fact, it’s probably Thursday for most folks. I’ve been on vacation this week, which means I’ve been playing with my five kids all day–and I thought it was Tuesday. We’ll be back to a normal schedule in 2012!

For this week’s prompt, write a new start poem. For some, the new start could be the new year, but I’m sure many of you will have unique interpretations. Happy New Year, y’all!

“Neglected Inbox”

Nine of the last 18 messages are marked urgent,
and they’re not all related. What happens when I turn
on the out of office assistant. Empty stockings
and hyper children confess they’ll never tire of scooting
around the apartment. The baby coos, the baby cries.
The boys play and fight. The day turns into night. If
I get back, I just might have to delete it all.

*****

Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer

Check out my other blog: My Name Is Not Bob.

 

You might also like:

  • No Related Posts

194 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 159

  1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Resolutions
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Resolutions
    there have been many,
    most, unsuccessful
    at the altar of plenty.
    But yet you press on
    fighting the crosswinds
    to get that kite off the ground
    and soaring above you
    so that one day, when you
    look back upon your life
    you can pinpoint with certainty
    the exact moment the tattered tail
    stopped pledging and instead,
    simply lifted in tandem
    to the heavens.

    © 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  2. Jolanta.Stephens

    Hello all! It’s been such a long time since I wrote here, it is part of my new years resolution to get back into writing. I’m using this one as a ‘practice’ one as I feel I am a bit rusty.
    I apologise for my long absence, it has been an overwhelming year with career changes, studying and getting married (I was Jolanta Laurinaitis in case there are more than one Jolanta joining in here! ;))
    I very much look forward to rejoining with you all… and thank you to those people who sent me messages enquiring about my whereabouts… it’s always so nice to know that you have been noticed and missed!

    New Aspirations

    A fuzzy haze
    Of where they used to be
    Just a lingering memory
    Of what I reached out to
    Crackling and now neglected
    Like the vision
    Of an old black and white reel
    Fading into what once was
    And may never be again.
    Sparkly new
    Slightly cautious
    Possibly vindictive
    Too bright to believe
    Shine enveloping and blinding
    Old dreams
    Into new aspirations.

  3. MiskMask

    FILED AWAY (a triolet)

    I can only look forward to 2012
    2011’s filed away on 12 weighty shelves
    No reflecting, regretting or delving
    I can only look forward to 2012
    Bright bobbles and Santas and Christmas elves
    all stuffed back into the loft. And as for myself
    I can only look forward to 2012
    2011’s filed away on 12 weighty shelves

    (also posted at Poetic Bloomings for their similar prompt)

  4. taylor graham

    NEW YEAR’S POZOLE

    This pig’s foot, sturdily intact after hours
    of braising/boiling on the last day
    of the old year. I fork it from the pot –
    my hands smeared with pig-gelatin, onion,
    garlic, chiles. The foot resists
    as I slice through leathery hide to cut
    meat and gristle from the very substantial
    bones; little toe bones with nails,
    end of this old pig, the start
    of my new year. These words I’ve chosen
    for 2012: “possibilities” and “enjoy” –
    this mess of a kitchen, preparing pigsfeet
    for a ritual supper. The possibilities.

  5. Bruce Niedt

    Sorry I haven’t been around lately – some serious computer issues which I hope are at least temporarily resolved.

    Double Rainbow over Baltimore, New Year’s Day

    We know what causes it, how sunlight
    refracts into its component colors
    when it beams through a prism of rain.
    But it was the placement and timing
    that made us forget all that science,
    as we cruised northward on I-95,
    New Year’s afternoon, on a long road trip
    back from Florida. We were caught between
    a shower and the sun, and suddenly
    a seven-colored arch loomed over us,
    a gateway grander than the one in St. Louis,
    a portal that stretched on either side
    of the highway, and as if that were not enough,
    its fainter twin appeared, concentric,
    an echo of colors inviting us to carry on,
    drive through, complete the journey safely,
    to revel in what lay before us
    on this, the first day of the year.

  6. taylor graham

    SEEDS

    Your father dreamed of wild and tended trees,
    your mother stirred her prospects with a spoon.
    You woke to cinnamon and Chevy keys,
    the morning drifting into fog
    and classroom doors that shut you in, too soon.

    You hear your mother in the winnow-wind,
    your father’s ashes tint the lupine’s blue.
    What’s left of them, a dry pressed tamarind,
    a seed that sprouts beside the log.
    You let the wind do what it will with you.

  7. Mike Bayles

    Waiting for the Morning Rain in Winter

    The warmth of breeze
    brings relief from the winter
    that has outstayed its welcome.
    A hope of spring
    brings a touch of joy
    to the tortured poet’s soul.
    The wet kiss of wind
    promises rain
    to melt away remnant snow.
    The melt of snow
    uncovers dormant grounds
    and the promise of new life.
    The warm of breeze
    to a tortured poet’s soul
    promises all.

  8. Dennis Wright

    I will be reading some my poems from last spring at an open mic at Rapunzels in Lovingston Virginia starting at 7 PM on Friday, January 27. Anyone in the area wants to go by, your support would be appreciated.

  9. Michael Grove

    Ready, Get, Slow

    Ready, Set, Go! is often heard
    It starts so many races.
    Anticipation then release
    seen on the anxious faces.

    Is it about the winning?
    No, more of getting there.
    Close your eyes another time,
    or blindly hold your stare.

    It’s not about the finish line,
    or visions of perfection.
    It might be more about the pace
    that gives you new direction.

    Much time spent on the fast track,
    and in the passing lane.
    Priorities have shifted now.
    Less pressure on the brain.

    The world will spin and will revolve,
    maintain a constant pace.
    The life you choose to lead is yours.
    But it is not a race.

    While running fast with blinders on
    Each minute, every hour,
    You didn’t climb a rainbow
    You passed right by the flower.

    It’s time to really stop and smell the roses.
    To cast away the things that hold you back.
    To cherish all the people there for you.
    Seek peace inside now off the beaten track.

    Slow down and look around you
    Take a deep breath, get some air.
    Take a stand to lend a hand.
    There’s much need everywhere.

    Completely giving all things for all others.
    Receiving only that which helps you grow.
    Let yourself drift on toward a fine vision.
    Pace yourself now, Ready, Get, Slow.

    By Michael Grove

  10. Ann M

    New Year’s Plant

    The plant in
    the south window
    is as old as you,
    received as a gift,
    a stem in a folded
    damp towel,
    in another century.

    i didn’t know then
    if the stem would survive,
    or what the plant,
    if it grew into one,
    would be,
    or who you were.

    now i know.
    it’s like an african violet,
    only larger and
    more sprawling;
    while you, like a stem
    pointing downward,
    become more mysterious.

    in the shortest days
    of the year,
    the plant is
    spreading like crazy,
    defying all logic of
    light and warmth,
    filling the window
    with color.

    i turn the pot
    so i can see them–
    the bright red leaves
    of the old and
    new years.

  11. shannonfarlouis

    Mother Nature Speaks

    Mother Nature speaks of many tribulations,

    sending the message to all great nations.

    Wandering sheep and wolves on the prowl,

    you’re losing your way with a language so foul.

    The winds are stirring up a storm,

    and the wheat is gathered from the farm.

    Where the truth is known, but blown away,

    many left behind in just one day.

    Mother Nature speaks and it’s not a code.

    Listen and believe to save your soul.

    Tornadoes swirling and rains flood the land,

    Watch the signs for time is at hand.

    Heaven will open and you will see the King!

    This will be the end for every thing.

    Heartache and anguish for those left behind.

    Did you not pay attention to these great signs?

    Mother Nature is speaking for all to hear!

    Listen and believe and have no fear.

    The end of time is soon at hand,

    and all great nations will surely stand,

    before God!

COMMENT