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    Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 190

    Categories: Poetry Prompts, Robert Lee Brewer's Poetic Asides Blog, What's New.

    For this week’s prompt, write an appointment poem. Could be a doctor’s appointment, an appointment with a literary agent, or a dentist’s appointment (which is enough to get my boys scared stiff). Don’t miss your appointment with poetry this week. Poem, poem, poem!

    Here’s my attempt at an appointment poem:


    We meet beneath the stars, though we call them
    daggers reminding us why we sneak out
    in the first place. This park, with its swings and
    silence, keeps us shielded from our parents–
    so afraid we’ll repeat their mistakes they
    hold us apart in the day, but now we
    have our chance to play and now we have our
    chance to play. Now we have our chance to play.


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    149 Responses to Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 190


      A week of scissors cutting fabric, circuits
      of standing/turning while Mother pins up hems;
      the practicing of lines: “Sad Philomel,”
      she has trouble with the f-and p-sounds, “pours forth…
      Plaint’s” – the word’s a canyon between her
      and Pageant-day, her appointment
      with the stage. At bedtime, by glow of night-
      light she dons her cardboard head-dress,
      jewels of the crown in every precious color
      of cough drops from the drugstore shelf.
      Nightingale Princess, white chrysanthemums
      already wilted with anticipation.

    2. Juanita Lewison-Snyder says:

      Meet Me Tomorrow
      by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

      Meet me tomorrow
      at my favorite berry patch
      with pail and leather gloves in hand,
      berry time rolls round but once a year,
      I shan’t miss out this time.
      Oh no, I shan’t miss out this time.

      Raspberries, Logans, Marions too
      Boysens, Himalayas, and Evergreens,
      Blackcaps, Black Butte,
      Black Diamonds, Black Pearls,

      my State’s berries rules all!
      Chehalem, Olallie,
      and Metolius
      Cascade, Pacifica,
      and Siskiyou,
      there’s a reason Oregon’s the leading
      commercial producer in the world!

      Some are thornless
      while others pack a wallop
      some tart, some sweet, off the vine
      full of fiber and anti-oxi’s, and
      enough nutrients to choke a bear,
      they’ll tolerate poor soil
      colonize ditches & vacant lots
      feed birds, caterpillars and deer
      then turn right around with their
      deep purple black, woodsy flavor
      spoon into our mouths
      pies, jams, and cobblers
      salads and smoothies
      ice cream and muffins
      the size of a Pinata!

      So meet me tomorrow
      at my favorite berry patch
      with pail and leather gloves in hand,
      berry time rolls round but once a year,
      and I shan’t miss out this time as I’ve
      a date with some blackberry wine!

      © 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    3. tunesmiff says:

      (c) 2012 – G. Smith (BMI)
      I’ll meet you then,
      I’ll see you there,
      When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
      We’ll spend our days,
      In joyful praise,
      When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.

      There’ll be no sorrow,
      We’ll cry no tears;
      There’ll be no worries,
      We’ll have no fears.

      There’ll be no sickness,
      Nor heartache and pain;
      When Jesus comes to meet us,
      He’ll call us all by name.

      So,I’ll meet you then,
      I’ll see you there,
      When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
      We’ll spend our days,
      In joyful praise,
      When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.

      That lame will walk,
      The blind will see;
      The deaf will hear the trumpet sound,
      The prisoner’s will go free.

      We’ll stand hand in hand,
      With those we’ve loved,
      Who’ve gone on before us,
      To be with Jesus up above.

      So I’ll meet you then,
      I’ll see you there,
      When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.
      We’ll spend our days,
      In joyful praise,
      When Jesus calls to meet us in the air;
      When Jesus calls to meet us in the air.

    4. I guess mine is a “non-appointment” poem. Once again I used the the Sunday Whirl’s weekly Wordle challenge and incorporate a bank of twelve words into my poem: last, nine, final, refresh, gassed, line, number, evidence, bare, smooth, shift, gear.

      August Vacation

      Last leg of the nine-hour drive,
      final fling of the summer -
      pull into the rest stop
      to refresh – bathroom break,
      a cold drink – get the car gassed up,
      check the map one more time.
      Hit the interstate again -
      stay alert, don’t let the white lines
      mesmerize you. Let the numbers
      tick on the odometer, evidence
      that you’re farther from home.
      All your appointments are behind you,
      day-planner forgotten on your desk,
      its blocks for next week left bare.
      Put on your cruise control
      prepare for a smooth arrival,
      downshift and stay in that lower gear
      for at least seven days.

    5. Ann M says:

      Last Day of Summer

      It’s come to this
      the last day of summer
      when the blue moon has fallen
      and the storm has passed.
      Yesterday the flood receded,
      leaving raw new gullies
      and fallen frames,
      but this morning is bright
      and it’s time for you to go.

    6. Last appointment.

      And here we are.
      It was always going to be this moment
      No getting away from it.
      Under all I did
      everyone I knew,
      all the love, hate, indifference,
      you were waiting.

      You are the definitive inexorable,
      fate accomplished;
      the line drawn under

      I hear my family crying,
      I know they will survive.
      I hope they know how much I love them.
      But now it is our time.

    7. Kayfay says:

      As long as it’s not an appointment with doom,
      I look forward to walking into any room.
      But an appointment with my pillow
      is always the best.
      I have no idea what waits on the other side
      to jolt my memory, give me fair warning,
      or play tricks on my mind.
      Will it be travel, new friends, meeting Hollywood stars,
      fearful sights, or a night I can fly?
      As long as I can keep reality in check,
      this is one appointment I like best.

    8. DanielAri says:

      Commitments to Oneself Can Be The Loosest

      My client is too flexible, too nice.
      There’s such a thing as being tractable
      to a fault. I’ve rescheduled more than thrice,
      screwed the agenda, trashed the timetable,
      and generally made work unworkable.
      I wonder if I’m going to pay a price,
      or if what’s still gotten done will suffice
      to keep the whole endeavor viable.

      The problem is we’re both creatives, and
      things get done without meeting—or meaning.
      Separately, we follow our distractions:
      I play turn after turn of Words With Friends
      while, on the other side, I roam, gleaning
      a poem from these random meditations.

    9. cstewart says:


      I have an appointment with myself,
      One that I have been avoiding,
      In time, for the sake of time.
      The visitor I am greeting
      Is one of great patience
      And has a countenance of softness.

      This person is kind and staid
      Full of wisdom and good nature,
      Understanding and great mirth.
      She is the tree upon which
      I climb and swing upside down
      In the summer sun, counting birds.

    10. missab5 says:

      Of all the days
      to be running late
      my mind is in a haze
      unable to contemplate
      what I am about to do.

      An audition to be a guide.
      I must let my public speaking fear
      Step out of my box to appear

      In my opinion it went horrible
      well at least in part.
      It may have been deplorable
      but full of heart

      Maybe next time
      I will be ready
      perhaps with a rhyme
      on feet steady.
      What a break through.

    11. SharoninDallas says:


      The words were gone! The hour was late.
      Please, God, don’t seal my fate.

      She coaxed, she wrote, she smiled, she explained.
      A bit of tea and a bite of scone and Mimi the friend,
      The petite francaise, Mimi the editor was done.

      The pages scooped up with my heart-felt good-bye.
      But somewhere on the street they must lie.
      Perhaps by Mouffetard; by Port Royale no more!
      I had already stepped through my apartment door.

      The words were gone! The hour was late.
      Please, God, don’t seal my fate.

      In my hard metal chair I sat, ready for the vagaries of French
      History to get at. Not one page, not two, not three or four.
      No, twenty pages of French by hand were no more.

      The words were gone! The hour was late!
      Please, God, don’t seal my fate.
      God, are you there? Can you help me through?
      It’s due tomorrow. What can I do?
      I raised my head from silent prayer. Oh how did I start?
      First sentence where are you? Which quote? Which page?
      What book are you in? If I find you I can begin.

      The words were gone! The hour was late!
      I raised my head, my eyes were guided by fate.
      To the first book where they fell
      The words came rushing out of my pen in a swell.
      Twenty pages in one fell swoop. From memory,
      In French, twenty pages, reproduced.

      The words had been gone. The hour was late.
      But I had learned that God is great.

      • Whoa.


        Riveting, compelling … I felt your anxiety, and the triumph. True story??

        • SharoninDallas says:

          Thank you, Marie. Yes, It is true. I “ran away” to Paris when I was 40 to get my MA in French. It was so hard to make my brain crank out those papers. I was hysterical when I realized I had lost my paper. I had books open all over my table in a panic, trying to figure what to do. And yes, after praying, my eyes fell on the right book with the quote I had used in the first paragraph of my paper, and I recalled it all to memory and wrote it again by hand; non-stop. A small thing maybe. But it is an answered prayer I will never forget.

    12. The early evening dew
      crept up blades of grass
      and crawled across the rock wall
      beneath me as I waited. I waited
      for what seemed hours
      with breath short in my chest,
      rustling the autumn leaves above
      with each respiration.
      The moon
      peered low beneath wisps of clouds
      waiting as well to see if you’d really come.
      Though at your silhouette’s promenade
      I’m certain,
      the stars began to shine,
      for the first time.


    13. JOY RIDE

      I’d go with you but it’s so long a drive. I’d go
      but shade keeps winking under oaks. The sheep
      are sleeping and the dog’s awake, the wagon’s
      resting on its rusty spokes, and honey bees
      are goldening their hive. I’d go with you, if just
      for old-times’ sake. But I’ve appointments,
      there’s so much to do – I’ve got a date with
      summer. Mother Earth is spinning sunbeams,
      and the sky is blue. A poem calls me for a stanza

    14. PKP says:

      Hi all – I am sure there is a wealth of wonder here … am now ready for my appointment:
      a wonderful night of reading…

    15. PKP says:

      The Best Laid Plan

      Perhaps it was
      a morphine misunderstanding
      when he came home
      from hospital
      dressed in a fresh
      short cotton robe
      and slipped like a
      letter into an envelope

      Crisp white linens
      arranged with as
      much precision
      as a king of ancients
      piled upon
      heaps of creased
      white pillows
      sunshafts playing
      the silver threads
      in his black hair

      Perhaps it was
      a morphine
      that when he looked
      about the room from
      face to loving face
      he would simply
      royally nod,
      close his eyes
      and thus signaled

      On his terms
      his time
      rather than
      open his eyes
      time after time
      through eleven days
      and eleven nights
      to ask with

      Whispered wonder
      whirling into
      imperial impatience
      “Why – am – I – still – here?”

      Morphine misunderstanding
      Or grand finale

      His heart danced, dipped
      and leapt again
      For eleven days and
      Eleven nights

      She sung
      Swing Low, Sweet Chariot
      Magic of the Night, Bring Him Home,
      I Dreamed A Dream, Summertime
      In a continuous loop
      until her throat rang rasped raw

      Combed his hair with cologne
      wet his lips with balm
      walked to the edge of
      the abyss with him
      watched from behind
      his shoulders at him seeing
      the Universe spread
      infinitely before him
      poised to step off

      Only to be returned
      Again, and again and again
      Rested with the crescendo
      of Sibeilus, Tchaikowsky,
      crashing the walls of her
      mind as he raised graceful
      arms and conducted
      in silent connected concert


      the sudden scent of apricots
      filled the room

      And he smiled
      the smile of kings
      and left on a sigh
      reconciled and forgiven


    16. PKP says:

      Just A Regular Appointment

      Routine –
      they planned on lunch

      Routine –
      just a rule out

      these things almost
      always benign

      Unless they’re not

    17. STOOD UP

      Time and tide were kept waiting
      while you stood, debating whether
      your heart and mind were of the kind
      to join forces. As a matter of course
      you quit horsing around and bound
      down dressed in your finest; the nines
      and then some. And you come
      to the decided place. Your face drops
      and your stop in your tracks.
      This meeting lacks ambiance
      and allure. But mostly, it lacks her.

    18. PowerUnit says:

      My tooth fell apart.
      It exploded into my carrot
      like the carrot was a tooth sucking vacuum cleaner
      It didn’t hurt but my mind felt future pain
      of steel drills and dentist bills
      of talking like Elmer Fudd in my morning chat with my boss
      of not eating crunchy food until the moment of suffering
      repairs my bite
      restores my fight

    19. The Readying (a shadorma)

      Will she be ready
      at midnight,
      stop trembling,
      and focus on her past joys?
      Can she accept death?

    20. Writing Day

      My computer’s calling, I feel like bawling
      I’d like to go on a trip
      To stick to my vocation, I need some motivation
      This day, I’d like to skip

      The stories need writing, should be exciting
      But I just want to play
      My readers are waiting, anticipating
      Or stay in bed all day

      I’ll stick these words together, though they could sound better
      My hubby’s soon coming home
      What did you write today, he will probably say
      Well, at least, I wrote a poem.

    21. addi22 says:


      When time will be finally due
      I’m more then sure, he’ll be there, too.
      We’ll talk and smile and laugh.
      We’ll be relaxed and fun, maybe even wild.

      Meanwhile, each of us will test
      the field of truth and trust
      to see if our little appointment
      was appropriate and worth.

      Adriana Dascalu

    22. seingraham says:

      Get Me to the Work on Time

      This winter morn the roads
      Are almost un-navigable and
      I am grateful for my four-wheel drive
      As I plow through fresh snow
      Tracing a new route to work
      Sluicing between curbed monsters
      Really just parked cars but so
      Snow-covered and socked in
      As to be indistinguishable as such

      Every day’s an adventure
      In my view; I don’t like traffic
      Or the stop and go of intersections
      And challenge myself to find side-streets
      And alleys that permit me to just keep
      Going with very little braking
      The only pre-requisite is that I make
      My appointment, get to work on time

    23. Domino says:

      I Have an Appointment

      My appointment is with my pillow
      and that book I’ve been meaning to read.

      It is with that tub of hot water and bubbles
      and with the candlelit bathroom and my loofah.

      It is with a certain souvenir mug with
      the picture of the Yellowstone bear
      and with a quantifiable amount of cocoa
      with whipped crea
      and a sprinkle of cinnamon..

      My appointment is with me
      because I am just as valuable
      to me
      as anyone else in my life.

      Diana Terrill Clark

    24. Running Late

      “It’s appointed once for man to die. . . “
      (For Pop, 12-17-13—8-26-12)

      He somehow failed to show up, packed,
      ready to go back in the fall of eighty-eight.
      The signs were right, the symptoms clear,
      but his heart keep plugging away.

      The angels charged with transport
      may have lollygagged, failing
      to complete their task, or found another
      more willing, more ready for the journey.

      So when he kept working, driving, reading,
      his body followed orders, his mind
      stayed clear of cobwebs, the bones
      the joints , though rusty, held beneath his skin.

      As he saw others go, he wondered
      if he’d been forgotten by those couriers,
      though certainly not by others here,
      children, grandchildren, greats stopped by.

      Sometimes the young men plumbed
      the depths of his experience, transformed
      on the crucible of his life into wisdom.
      Younger women—younger at least than he–

      charged with watching him, would tell him
      secrets, share their hopes, their sorrows.
      He loved the little children best, circling
      his hall, toddling behind his walker, unafraid.

      When finally they came again to call,
      requiring his attendance elsewhere,
      that majestic roll call, as he lifted
      out of that shell in which he’d lived,

      he stretched his arms and legs,
      he heard music clearly, even whispers;
      he glimpsed familiar faces, smoother
      now, and asked his escort, “Why so late?”
      Did I miss my appointment or did you?”

    25. Jane Shlensky says:

      Haven’t done haiku lately.


      They said she would be
      late for her own funeral.
      She was right on time.

    26. Jane Shlensky says:

      Seasonal Truce

      They fight from spring through summer,
      zooming and dodging over blooms and feeders,
      but when autumn pinches the air,
      they swarm together around the nectar
      to refuel for the long flights south,
      cooperative at last until they arrive
      and set up old rivalries on new ground.
      The urgency of rendezvous is hotwired
      into their tiny selves from beak to tail feather,
      from whirring wing to wing,
      a date with survival, with instinct,
      with a winter home far from here.

    27. Tracy Davidson says:

      The Vet’s Appointment

      the day we dreaded
      for months has finally come
      I carry him in
      faithful eyes look up at me
      one last lick upon my hand

    28. Marianv says:

      An appointment waiting…

      A date, we hope we never learn
      our journey into eternity
      We hope that we won’t be alone
      We know there is no way to see –

      Death’s darkest image might
      blind us all until the time
      when with all our loved ones we reunite
      In that unknown bright morning shine.

    29. julie e. says:


      I’m surprised

      as my eyelids capture color iridescent

      on a crinkled canvas no longer smooth

      and the hand holding the shadow brush

      is my grandmother’s, not my own.

      I was surprised yesterday

      and I’ll be surprised tomorrow

      but in my heart I’m eighteen

      and barefoot in a field of

      Queen Anne’s lace.

    30. Date

      Feeling uninspired
      I let my fingers walk
      reading where they step
      and the letters that they talk.

      My mind wanders
      floating out the door
      putting groceries in the cart
      as my mind hovers around the store.

      I need to write some prose
      or even a poem or two,
      it’s Wednesday once again
      but my mind doesn’t know what to do.

      So here it is
      my poem for the day.
      While my mind was shopping,
      my fingers came out to play.

    31. claudsy says:

      Appointment with Life

      We came together,
      You and I,
      When I barely
      Knew life existed,
      Before I first
      Recognized breath
      As belonging to me,
      When things abandoned
      Me forever by leaving
      Rooms I occupied.
      We came together,
      You and I,
      In this capsule
      Called experience.
      We have a date,
      You and I,
      That extends itself
      Forever onward;
      A date called Growth–
      Of worldly knowledge,
      But most of all,
      Of spirit and understanding.

    32. Anne says:

      Be –
      leave me now,
      I’m running late, can’t wait,
      cannot stop, for-
      give my selfish sin-
      gle-minded, full-divided, lost attention span -
      I’m a multi-tasking, thanks for asking,
      neverlasting, late-for-a-date woman.

    33. De Jackson says:


      Meet me
      in the moonlight
      when the tide’s right
      and she spills her diamonds
      loose; lace your fingers through
      my hair and stare out
      over this wave-woven place
      we both belong;
      whisper breeze and stir
      these trees
      into a shivered song.


    34. ChristineA says:


      I’m running late as usual.
      Your stare from the corner of the living room serves a constant reminder.
      Though you’re not far away,
      Week after week I am missing you
      Mentally rescheduling our rendezvous
      In favor of work, errands, dishes, anything but-
      This is one meeting I cannot postpone forever.
      At some point, I will need to fold my laundry.

    35. Sushi

      A TV in the examining
      room sends a message-
      LONG WAIT, a normal
      expectation for a doctor’s
      office, yet you hope
      to escape such a fate.

      Three cooking channel shows
      later, an affair with impatience
      embattles your mind and you
      dream of being free from this
      torturous bind so you open
      the door, peek into the hall-

      you thought – you thought, but
      you screamed those words,
      slammed the door for
      as the ad-
      Nadia G’s Bitchin’ Kitchen
      flashes in front of your eyes
      and you dream of sushi.

    36. “Too Many Appointments!”

      Too many appointments to keep!
      No time to pencil in sleep,
      Maybe squeeze in a 5 second lunch,
      Trapped in the teeth of a time crunch,
      Too many appointments to keep!

      Many I can fit in a moment of rest
      Between my 1:00 meeting and 1:30 test?
      No, I have to make phone calls then,
      Otherwise I don’t know when
      I’ll have time to finish this mess.

      Oh, if only there were a blank slot
      In my appointment book’s daily plot
      Wait, there’s one…between 10 and 11
      P.M., one hour of unscheduled heaven,
      Oh, no, wait, cleaning the bathroom then…I forgot.

      A clean slate is all that I seek!
      This agenda of mine is making me bleak
      I need just one moment to think
      (or maybe I just need a drink)
      Screw it, I’m calling in sick the rest of the week.

    37. mich says:

      Great imagery and so very true about the hidden stories in seemingly simple appointments.

    38. “Moving Mom”

      I confess there’s more to see
      behind the scribblings
      on the Chase wall calendar
      hanging in your yellow kitchen—

      the big X in the center of November 15.

      I’ll drive from the end of the
      Wisconsin line where the butcher
      lives and dines on venison
      to the suburbs where the
      bustling medical center is
      sandwiched between a
      Hooters and a Chicago Pizza
      to learn

      if it is time.

    39. mich says:

      Each day followed the one before
      Regimented blocks of time
      With events precision scheduled
      To maximize hours, minutes, seconds
      In efficient trips to and from work
      and extracurricular activities
      Until that one moment
      When I realized the most important
      Appointments I could keep
      Were the moments I shared with you.

    40. Great start, poets! Robert, yours really tugs at the heart – as does Andrew’s. This prompt should get a wide variety of amazing results, I bet.

    41. PKP says:

      The Important Date

      There rushing  he runs
      He’s late – He’s late – that date
      Wonderland whirring :)

    42. flowers

      I brought you roses from the street seller
      at the corner of Archway Road, just like
      my dad used to buy flowers for my mum,

      sometimes to mark a special occasion,
      sometimes for absolutely no reason
      except that she loved fragrance and colour,

      and maybe I’m hoping you are like her
      though I don’t realize it yet; maybe
      I am trying to be as good as him.

    43. TIME TO GO

      In her mid-eighties, she could be found
      Playing basketball with her great-grands.

      After the stroke, she could be found
      Wherever she was placed.

      Yet, the stroke could not stop
      Her strong, beating heart.

      Five years later, out of the blue,
      Healthy organs began shutting down.

      Asked if she knew what was happening,
      She nodded yes.

      “Are you ready?”

      Another “yes” nod accompanied
      Obvious relief and absolute anticipation.

      It was time.

    44. JWLaviguer says:

      Appointment With Death

      A long life ending too soon
      Like a song stopped in the middle
      On an 8-track tape

      My bucket list incomplete
      In fact, never begun
      Too busy with life

      Alone in this bed
      No friends or family
      Too busy with life

      One more chance
      Is all I ask
      To make it right

      Someone is here
      To say goodbye
      ‘Tis only Death

      I close my eyes
      Begin a new journey
      On the other side

      I have regrets
      But don’t we all
      Too busy with life.

    45. Ber says:

      Growing Up

      Oh waking up to a wonderful day
      all that needs to be done
      school starts back tomorrow
      my body is tired
      feels like a worn out marrow

      Running around like a wild one
      hope to wake up on time
      set the alarm clock
      the rush is on again

      Children stressed out
      over not having enough
      coloring pens
      Off to work the good gentlemen

      Smell of the toast and the hot tea
      children and everyone
      rushing by me
      summer is gone
      weather is getting cold
      oh my goodness
      i feel very old

      Writing down the list of the last few bit and bobs
      wondering is there anything left for me in the shops
      the race is on to find all i can
      i need an industrial cooler a massive big fan

      To cool me down and calm me down
      i must not stand still
      give me something for my nerves
      or least something to help me stand still

      Off she will go another start of a year
      growing up so fast
      the daughter i hold so dear
      where does time go
      my baby is growing up fast
      she always makes me laugh
      we surely have a blast

      So as tomorrow draws closer
      she will wave goodbye to me
      she wont let me hug her in public
      or even sit on my knee
      all grown up now
      she is independent sure enough
      by tomorrow evening i will be out of puff

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