Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 166 (Thinking Poems)

Good morning! Over this past winter, I put together 8 e-books for writers that included some niche market guides, such as Horror Writer’s Market, Mystery Writer’s Market, and others. However, one of those e-books is titled Write Poetry Now: 366 Prompts for Poets. It includes many previous Poetic Asides prompts, as well as some new ones.

Also, it’s worth noting that the Writer’s Digest website is filled with other writing prompts.

This week’s poem prompt:

For this week’s prompt, take the phrase “What (blank) Think,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Example titles might be: “What Children Think,” “What Teachers Think,” “What Banana Splits Think,” etc.

Here’s my thought poem:

“What Superheroes Think”

There’s always another mugging to stop,
another person to save. The wicked
never rest, and neither do we. Always
ready to answer a call or respond
to a signal or happen upon crime
as it happens, we know the bleeding will
never stop, but we fight on and on and…


Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer and check out my personal blog, My Name Is Not Bob.


After you write your poems…

….why not try publishing them? The best resource for poets trying to get published is the 2012 Poet’s Market, which includes hundreds of publishing opportunities, articles on how to submit writing, build an audience for your poetry, and more.

Click to continue.


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265 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 166 (Thinking Poems)

  1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    (decided to write a poem addressing why, architecturally speaking, Gargoyle sculptures atop buildings seem to have left our culture in recent times. Yes, they’ve become a lost art.)

    What Gargoyles Think
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    They come alive at night,
    intricately carved creatures of stone
    cradling fangs, wings, claws
    perched high above church rooftops
    cemeteries, medieval castles
    snarling and leering their way
    into the annals of history.

    Pagan holdovers since the ancient Greeks,
    Gargoyles were the first of three
    preceding humans, Oberon’s children
    an alliance sworn to protect.
    But honor has given way
    to disillusionment, and that
    to dark and dangerous times.

    Disgusted with Mankind
    by centuries of sitting
    audience to world theater,
    nations rising and falling
    greed, famine, pollution
    wickedness across all lines,
    for Gargoyle brethren
    Man has become a commodity
    no longer held sacred.

    They begin leaving their posts
    first one by one, then in droves
    leaving Oberon’s children
    vulnerable to the mischief
    leaned on by evil spirits.
    A few hold out, still hopeful
    Man will come around
    in time to right their wrongs,
    and so continue to curse
    and sermonize from their
    pulpits of brick and stone
    as light dwindles.

    Yet, architecture
    continues to go bare
    the world over.

    © 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  2. cstewart

    (prompt” write a poem about what a certain type of
    person thinks)

    What Serial Killers Think

    I am smarter than you (everyone).
    All I have is what I have (everything)
    I can control all things,
    I can control nothing.

    I am not attractive (to you)
    You can not control me,
    You can not stop me,
    I will smash everything
    You are.

    I will escape everything,
    I can manipulate everything,
    I will kill everything,
    I will watch you die.

    It does not matter.
    I do not matter.

  3. Marie Elena

    Originally titled “Origin of Thought,” this is one of the first poems I ever wrote, and was in response to an April PAD 2009 prompt. It is also the second poem I read at Buddah’s GREAT virtual poetry site: .


    My thoughts I think are my thoughts, I think.
    I think my thoughts are mine.
    If others thought of my thoughts first,
    Well, I think that’s just fine.

    My thoughts I think are my thoughts, I think.
    If others think them too,
    That doesn’t make them not my thoughts.
    At least, I think that’s true.

    My thoughts I think are my thoughts, I think.
    And I think it’s insane
    To spend a nanosecond more
    Just to ascertain.

  4. DanielAri

    I have been experimenting with a new form…

    “Abecedarian: what they’re thinking”

    Anthropomorphizers might imagine
    an avocado feeling rotten.

    Bullies seeks a satisfaction
    they never felt.

    Clients don’t know what they want,
    just what they don’t like.

    The thoughts of our inner demons
    deepen as they eat.

    “I know nothing.” This will-o-the-wisp
    sometimes startles experts.

    Friends demonstrate such endurance
    focusing on our sweetness.

    Gonzo journals thought themselves
    cool, and thought themselves cool.

    Sometimes I think I’d be satisfied
    as a hermit.

    The Marauding Huggers touched actual
    joy in adolescence.

    Don’t imagine idealists’ identities
    to be Faberge.

    Human ingenuity
    fascinates junk collectors.

    prefer stillness—

    but gale winds tease tiny
    hairs on the bodies of lovers.

    A monogamous male,
    I’ve counted the months.

    Nightmare denizens gossip
    about my demons.

    Older people can tell you
    a thing or 83.

    It’s the cravings
    make the pirate.

    Falling in and out of love
    like a whirligig: questioners.

    Rebar makers think
    long and hard.

    Sake drinkers’ cognition:
    the ragged edge of brushed kanji

    Rodin’s “The Thinker,”
    ironically, does not.

    Do underwear models
    feel perennially flattered?

    A Volkswagen fan offed me
    a freebie. I declined.

    I’d never presume to understand
    what’s inside a wounded warrior.

    Xenophobes gunguard
    their juiceboxes.

    What the youth think
    only they know.

    Zealots tie everything
    to one post.

  5. Connie Peters

    What Chocolate Thinks

    I’ll show her
    for locking me
    in this dark cupboard.
    She doesn’t know
    of my super powers.
    I know she’s sitting there
    watching TV.
    I can beam a picture
    of my scrumptious self
    into her mind,
    clearer than the show
    she’s watching.
    She sees my creamy brown skin.
    She can almost taste
    my sweet kiss.
    And now I start calling.
    “I’m here!
    “Come get me!
    “Next commercial!”
    She heard me.
    She’s coming.
    She opens the door.
    I see the light.
    I’m free at last!
    She’s going to eat me?
    I’m melting!

  6. Connie Peters

    What My Neighbors Think

    I see him quite often
    And the two they care for.
    Their son comes and goes.
    But I haven’t seen her for a long time.
    Wasn’t he carrying a shovel the other day?
    Better check the back yard.

    (In other words, I need to get out more.)

  7. viv

    What I think is that I’ve been away too long –
    missed too many cracking poems on the way.
    But if I spent all day every day
    on here reading, I would be wrong
    as my own writing would never more appear.
    Just for today, I think I’ll have a treat
    and read them all.

  8. Patricia A. Hawkenson

    What a Can of Spam Thinks

    You know you want me.
    I’m your naughty little secret,
    but you don’t have to hide me anymore.
    Pick me up.

    Strip me open
    with your prying fingers.
    Use a tool if you have to.
    I’ll ooze for you.

    Flip me over.
    Slice me,
    dice me.
    Heat me till
    I’m sizzling hot.

    Savor my flavor
    on your tongue,
    but don’t let them see you
    licking your lips.

    I’m a single
    serving size.

  9. Colette D

    ~ What the {Art} Lover Thinks ~

    I want to kiss your canvas
         with soft brushes of love
    I want to fill your palette
         from the hues within my heart
    I want to paint passion
         into a study of your blood
    I want to freshen up your fresco
         and stroke love into your art
    I want to draw pleasure onto your skin
    and I want to draw pleasure from your skin!

  10. leatherdykeuk

    What my Dogs Think

    They think I am God

    They think I make the day start and end by drawing the curtains,
    the people walk past the house for them to shout at,
    the letters to come for them to eat
    (an appetiser for the treats after their walk,
    the bowls of meat and biscuits in the evening,
    the bedtime biscuit.)

    They think I spend hours bring the world to their noses,
    a different bit of it each day
    some familiar smells and some new.

    They think I am the Devil.

    They think I bring the vacuum cleaned to torment them
    the bath to drown them
    the nail clippers of evil to frighten them
    and the worming tables and flea solution to poison them.

    I am the Bringer of Soap
    The Lighter of the Sun
    The Comber of Knots
    The Clearer of Poop
    The Bearer of Clean, warm blankies.

    But above everything else,
    they think I am the Provider of Love and Cuddles

    and that’s the best bit about being God.

  11. barbara_y

    moaning and groaning.
    the laptop got sick, and the ipad’s looking green.
    is this what happens when you post first? no mo’!

    The carpet thinks the vacuum cleaner’s broken

    or, that’s what it would say.
    It’s a southern carpet, and
    wouldn’t dream of saying
    what it really thinks, having
    been raised from the nap
    that way. It might offer a loan
    toward a new vacuum, saying,
    I’m sure I have enough change
    in the dust to buy one or two.

  12. foodpoet

    What Dreams Think

    What do dreams that die think
    How to cope when hope is fades
    Away to the nothing edge
    Tomorrow is just another work day

    Day after day
    Reality venom kills the dream
    Echoes of failed plans
    Almost free but never quite
    Mornings are just the prelude to tedium
    So we bundle our lives in work minutia

    Tell ourselves we are
    Inch worm calls and duty bears down
    Nothing changes nothing ever changes as another dream is

  13. De Jackson

    What the apostrophe thinks

    Ya’ll just be goin’ ’bout your
    (not you’re)
    I’m just hangin’ out
    up here, makin’ things easier
    on everybody
    so all’ve these words can have their
    (please, please, not they’re)
    I’ve gotta say, it’s not easy
    bein’ me,
    you see,
    the world’s had its
    (not it’s)
    with me,
    uncertainly insertin’ me
    where I simply don’t (can’t, shan’t, nope – won’t
    couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t ever ever)

    I hope you won’t be alarmed
    if I seem possessive
    or obsessive. You’ll soon see it’s
    (not its)
    just because I’m feeling blue,
    and so I’ll beg you, just one plea:
    Use me. Don’t abuse me.

  14. Marianv

    Thouts and Dreams of our Siamese kitten

    Blue eyed kitty, are you really as wise
    As those darkly-shadowed eyes
    Small, mocking tones hidden deep inside
    Are you teasing me?

    I who seem to know it all
    Taught you to come at my every call
    Though you quickly understood,
    not every summons leads to food,
    Are you indulging me?

    Me with my mere mortal claim
    You with your exotic name
    Do you dream of the caliph’s tower? Silken
    Robes that framed your bower?
    When you knead your pillowed bed
    Where would you rather be?

    From your window seat you gaze upon
    Drifts of snow, more falling down
    Somewhere that land of constant sun
    Where your ancestry had begun
    Across a distant sea.

    Today you’re content to take a nap
    On a loving human lap
    You are wise enough to know
    Home is where the food bowls never show
    Their bare side until you walk away
    With your tummy full. Your daily
    Round of naps and food and play –
    Await your pleasure –
    here you’ll stay.

  15. Connie Peters

    What a Snowflake Thinks

    I am so very small.
    No one notices me at all.
    My time on earth isn’t long.
    So very brief—the snowflake song.
    If only my life would matter more…
    And then the snowflake hears a roar.
    An avalanche or a waterfall!
    Things add up, even when you’re small.

  16. Tracy Davidson

    What Passing Aliens Think

    That Earthlings are a rather backward race –
    violent, greedy, hell-bent on destruction,
    sucking their own planet’s resources dry,
    arguing over whose God is better.

    They think if they leave it a thousand years
    Earth will have improved – either mankind
    will have adapted or become extinct,
    paving the way for another species
    to grow, to make a better fist of things.

  17. Mary Mansfield

    What the Creatively-Challenged Poet Thinks

    The words lie dormant in my brain
    Uncooperative and stubborn
    Leaving my confidence in ruins
    Page after page of false starts crossed out
    Rewritten only to be crossed out once more
    Waiting for a spark to foster the creative impulse
    About to surrender to the obstacles in my mind
    When angelic whispers show me the shining path
    That leads to the birth of a poem.


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