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Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 196

For this week’s poetry prompt, I want you to take one of the following lines and make it the first line of your poem. All these lines are taken from my personal notebooks, so they’re not especially wonderful–just some random places to start. Feel free to take liberties with these openings (the important part is the poeming).

  • She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking
  • I’m not sure who I am or what I want
  • The world, a helicopter seed spinning
  • Burn the want out of every moment
  • My bed is a planet
  • Trees hide the better views

 

Here’s my attempt:

“Dang-blasted”

She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking
about anymore. She’s been skating figure 8s
around the old lake. The ice is thin. She can’t think
forever. He never looked back is the problem,
she says. And she can’t turn her head the other way.

*****

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*****

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164 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 196

  1. Mike Bayles

    Small Valley

    Trees hide the better views
    of valley to the side of the road
    where greenery conceals
    a narrow stream
    of unknown name
    moving toward unknown destiny.
    Leaves turn color
    splendor the valley.
    Its late year’s resplendence
    I see in radiant light of sun,
    bright reflections of time,
    a season’s pride
    while I make my way home.

  2. Mike Bayles

    My Bed Is a Planet

    My bed is a planet
    in light of dreams.
    Mars is calling
    in its fullness of red.
    to go is a simple journey
    once I’m in bed.
    To get to Venus,
    I go toward the sun,
    a little recreation,
    a little fun.
    As for Pluto,
    I do not go.
    Once a planet,
    and now not,
    I do not go to this spot.

  3. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    burn the want
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    ya gotta burn the want in every moment
    gotta flame away the pain and doubts
    throw kerosene on ghosts that linger
    then cast that funeral pyre out to sea.

    when love and honor start crossing swords
    and lust and duty embroil in a lover’s quarrel
    might be time to call forth what’s left of kindness
    then through tears, put ‘em all down like a rabid dog.

    ya know what happens when ya play with matches,
    so quit pretending the phospho’s not real
    sometimes right and wrong warrants separation
    charr those bridges behind that ya cross.

    ya gotta burn the want in every moment
    gotta flame away the pain and doubts
    throw kerosene on ghosts that linger
    then cast that funeral pyre out to sea.

    © 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  4. Carole Caprice

    “The World, A Helicopter Seed Spinning”
    ———————————————————–

    The world, a helicopter seed spinning,
    Hurled into existence by a predestined beginning.
    It circles the Sun, the supreme star of our system,
    Who takes 7 other planets right along with ‘im.
    How is it our neighboring spheres refuse to harbor life?
    Do they somehow know the cost of human strife?
    Or are they simply not chosen to be among blessed terrain,
    To be looked upon with awe, its inhabitants’ gain?
    Magnificent landscapes ~ how lucky we are,
    To be 3rd from the Sun and not spinning afar!

    © Carole Caprice

  5. tunesmiff

    Of the five lines, the first one “spoke” to most clearly, saying, “There’s a line for a country song if ever there was one…”

    So, I hope I did it justice…

    : )

    SHE’S BEEN THINKING
    G. Smith (BMI)
    ————————————-
    She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking about,
    Awake in the dark after the lights go out;
    Those nagging little things that raise the shadows of doubt;
    She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking about.

    She’s been thinking on things that don’t need thinking on;
    Like what’ll we do when the kids’re all gone?
    They grow up so fast, it’ll be here before long;
    She’s been thinking on things that don’t need thinking on.

    I guess that’s a difference between she and me,
    Something I miss is all she can see.
    Was it something I said, beside her in bed?
    Or forgot to say at the start of the day?
    She knows I’ll be around when the chips are down,
    And I know what to expect,
    when
    I
    see
    that
    frown…

    She’s been thinking through things that don’t need thinking through,
    Like if she goes first, do I know what I’ll do?
    Will I go on alone, or will I find someone new?
    She’s been thinking through things that don’t need thinking through.

    Thinking through things that don’t need thinking through;
    She’s been thinking about things;
    She’s been thinking.

  6. CLKone

    Trees hide the better views?
    Sometimes.
    Trees muffle traffic too.
    Tall oaks and wispy pines
    Shade tiny lots
    Sometimes,
    Enlarge narrow spaces
    Cast canopies for fancy
    Weave forests of enchantment.
    Trees hide leafy paths awaiting children.
    Sometimes
    Trees frame castles, forts and oceans
    Just yards from the back door.
    Sometimes
    Trees are the better view.

  7. elishevasmom

    Sacred Offering

    Burn the life out of
    Every moment.

    Every moment
    Unique unto itself

    Unique unto itself
    Never comes again

    Never comes again
    The chance to miss nothing

    The chance to miss nothing
    Cherish the moment

    Cherish the moment
    It is sacred

    It is sacred
    Burn the life

    Live.

  8. Ann M

    Trees hide the better views
    of the river;
    a stand of old apple trees,
    the fruit falling rotten in October
    and the blossoms flying in April.
    Every year we argue
    whether it is better to cut them
    down so that we can see the river
    or let them stand
    because we can’t bear to
    cut them down,
    and every year we decide
    to wait.

  9. Marjory MT

    VIEW (Tri-let)

    Trees hide the better views
    of what I want to see,
    those sights that I would choose.
    Trees hide the better views.
    Must find new spot for muse,
    Some quiet place to be.
    Trees hide the better views
    of what I want to see.

    By Marjory T

  10. Marjory MT

    BURN the WANT……

    Burn the want out of every moment
    as you step within its set frame.
    Fill it with what is good,
    what is helpful to heart
    and can give some joy.
    Or unaware
    you will find
    that it’s
    gone.

    By Marjory T

  11. Marjory MT

    Busy, Busy, BUSY week, have not beeen able to read and comment, what few I have read are really great. Did some poeming whil waiting for shoppers, meetings and doctors. etc. – Only I ‘miss-remembered’ beginning line.

    Sooooo – ‘My bed is a Planet’ morphed into ‘The planet is my bed.” :)
    resuling in the following.

    The planet is my bed,
    the earth is my mother
    where I lay my head.
    The heavens are my Father
    by whom I am led.
    The sea is my brother
    from which I am fed.
    Earth’s breeze a cover
    as surface paths I tread,
    song birds o’r me hover.
    The planet is my bed.

    By Marjory T

  12. Sara McNulty

    This site is so frustrating tonight. Can’t post rest of my comments. So, Jane, Letting Go is stunning, sad, and beautiful.
    My Hearts, wonderful poem to ponder.
    Bruce, Amazing use of this prompt(s)
    Walt, It’s all good.
    CL, Love `flying a moon kite.
    Robert, never least, although last this time around. I love your poem, and your thoughts.

  13. Kayfay

    Burn the want out of every moment
    Take action and do what you want while the moment is here
    You can’t get it back once it’s gone
    Don’t make room for regrets of what you didn’t do
    and spend days wishing you could go back in time
    To do over those things you wish you had done
    Don’t let missed moments be missed opportunities
    Burn the want out of every moment, do what you know you want to do.

  14. J_Hemmestad

    Burn the want out of every moment,
    Live the life of every chorus line,
    Run the race of countless ancient athletes,
    In them, fortitude breeds counter decline.

    Stream the smoke throughout every fire,
    Glide beyond every deterrence,
    Sew binding thoughts as reasons to aspire,
    Years of struggle shed light on true brilliance.

    Plant seeds of sacrificial actions,
    Take the walk of dusty roads less known,
    Course roads trodden by ancient Bedouins,
    If one can be led to Solomon’s throne.

    This journey leads around the world in twirls,
    And in the depth of experience, Pearls.

  15. Joyce

    The world
    a helicopter seed spinning
    Faster and faster
    days rush by
    Stop-I want off
    faster and faster
    life spins out of control
    Too much to do
    not enough time…

  16. Joyce

    She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking
    Worry,worry,worry.
    Why?
    What’s done is done
    No changing it now.
    It’s history.
    On to new opportunities.
    The future awaits discovery.

  17. Connie Peters

    Ready on the Set

    I’m not sure who I am or what I want.
    Sometimes it feels like I’m an actor
    in a bad movie, eager for a new one.
    Sometimes it feels like I’m directing
    my own movie, but everyone has forgotten
    their lines. Sometimes it feels like
    the commercial break—time to turn down
    the volume, get a snack and wait
    for something interesting to happen.
    But sometimes I feel like the spunky,
    driven protagonist, giving it all I’ve got,
    knowing the end will turn out well.

  18. Connie Peters

    Better Views

    Trees hide the better views,
    so they say, but I say
    trees are the views—
    tall thick oaks like beloved grandfathers
    lovely golden aspens shaking castanets
    weeping willows swaying like hula dancers
    cottonwoods with seeded fluff like children blowing bubbles
    pine trees, ever green and pointing up, godly reminders,
    poplars, maples, elm, tulip, hickory, birch, ash, larkspur—
    all lovely views within themselves. See, really see, the trees.

  19. Joyce

    The world,
    a helicopter seed spinning
    Faster and faster
    days rush by
    Stop- I want off
    Faster and faster
    life spins out of control
    Too mush to do
    not enough time…

  20. Joyce

    She’a been thinking about things that don’t need thinking
    Worry, worry, worry
    Why?
    What’s done is done
    No changing it now
    It’s history
    On to new opportunities
    The future awaits discovery

  21. Joyce

    I’m not sure who I am or what I want
    Opportunities abound
    Jobs scarce
    What should I do?
    What can I do?
    No one listens
    They say they do
    but I know better
    They have jobs
    I don’t

  22. SheilaM

    Thanks for the prompts, Robert.

    burn the want out of every moment
    so my eyes pulse not for blood to clot
    in your cord,
    and my ears listen not for the pin-drop
    of your fall.

    burn the want out of every moment
    so my mouth speaks not lies that will rot
    your refuge,
    and my body drops not to greener spots
    in your sward.

    burn the want out of every moment
    until I am able to see what is in front of me,
    hear instruction, give thanks,
    credit humility-banks;

    lie exposed, unclothed in serenity’s bed
    where desires were bred, never fulfilled,
    and now, never instilled.
    burn the want out of every moment.

  23. taylor graham

    THINKING OUT LOUD

    She’s been thinking about things that don’t need
    thinking, much less “Whatever possessed you?”
    out loud, in American, on a bus on this deserted,
    snaking road between El Mago and La Casita.
    Hurtling around blind curves, engine roaring –
    the driver says the throttle’s stuck. Behind me,
    “Whatever possessed you to take this bus?”
    “So we could see the scenery.” “It’s dirty.
    Chickens in the seats. You call this scenic?”
    Across from me, a little girl with rooster
    in her lap. The throttle roars, we hurtle. Then
    we stop, and quiver to the edge of chip-seal
    dropoff to gully. “We could die here!”
    the woman’s voice. The girl sits gazing out
    the window; her rooster crows, just once.
    Out the window, sandy hills and dry arroyos
    under blue, blue sky. Crosses in threes and
    fives, a single, a score. Crosses made of dry
    sticks, two bumpers lashed together, a tire-iron,
    remnants of a load. Travelers who went no
    farther on this road.

  24. uneven steven

    Her world, a helicopter seed spinning

    under his fingers,
    a piano playing
    for an hour
    on the radio
    and she is all motion
    and letting go with the gravity
    of his notes
    telling her
    she is beautiful,
    desirable, attractive,
    everything she ever wanted to be
    just the way she is –
    Sandra, some of us have been plugging that meter
    all our lives for a second
    of bliss here,
    that special remembered year
    with two minutes of bliss there,
    this spinning free
    neither tree
    nor what you should be
    and I still feel your fingers
    from last night,
    your poem, the world
    a helicopter seed spinning
    making it hard to see
    where I am going,
    where my feet are planted
    in the ground.

    Written after hearing/reading The piano speaks by Sandra Beasley
    http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/236980

    Here’s a taste:

    For an hour I was a salamander
    shimmying through the kelp in search of shore,
    and under his fingers the notes slid loose
    from my belly in a long jellyrope of eggs
    that took root in the mud. And what…….

    ……..
    For an hour I was a maple tree,
    and under the summer of his fingers
    the notes seeded and winged away

    in the clutch of small, elegant helicopters.

  25. Michael Grove

    Burn the Want

    Burn the want out of every moment
    ‘till nothing is left but the need.
    Wash each hand of covetousness
    until there’s no more greed.

    By Michael Grove

  26. Sara McNulty

    My Bed Is A Planet

    My bed is a planet
    called Mysterious Wonder.
    I lay my head down, hoping
    it will conform to pillow’s
    purposeful neck indent.
    At times, marriage of head
    and pillow is happy. Why
    are there nights when
    my head does not fit
    that perfect place
    on which to dream
    of what is not real? Why
    is my blanket sometimes
    a cushion of comfort,
    other times, a nest
    of needles? Wonderment
    and mystery exist,
    spinning in space just above
    the planet of my bed.

  27. chait4me

    My bed is a Planet

    My bed is a planet, as we revolve through the night.
    Alas the world is eternally right.
    The stars up above is a map of our past.
    A love once lost has returned long last.
    A world ever changing, yet forever stays true.
    We now have the time where old becomes new.
    The man in the moon has a smile on his face.
    The stars all align and have taken their place.
    The love of my life, now asleep at my side.
    A honeymoon of time; I’m finally his bride.
    My bed is a planet; as we revolve through the night.
    Alas the world is eternally right.

  28. JRSimmang

    And the universe slowly revolves.
    I, here, the missive waves of
    Linen and silk
    Tempt me to space.
    I stare into the predawn starlight
    And wonder if this is what the other planets feel
    In the other houses
    In the other blocks.
    Do they rotate?
    Do they collide?
    Are mountains moving as they are now?
    I yawn.
    What does this make me?
    Am I a sleeping giant under the
    Starlit, gasping canopy
    Whiling away the turnings
    Of the celestial fires?
    Or am I an ocean,
    Vast and cold,
    Fragile under the weight of a sky blue
    And constantly turning over myself?
    I sleep well, regardless.
    You stir,
    An earthquake,
    Upsetting a delicate balance.
    And your eyes,
    Littering the ground as a forest does,
    Sweep from equator to pole.
    Our atmosphere is
    Simply gone.
    Speak to me, your mountain whisper
    Cascading from the deepest depths
    Of who knows where,
    And tell me that this cold is just
    A temporary reprieve
    From an unjust and cruel
    Firestorm.
    My bed is a planet
    And you are my gravity.
    Find my throat
    And wrap your fingers around it.
    Make me breathless.
    Make me long for weightlessness.
    Acknowledge that now that we have started
    There is no way to slow this down.
    This bed.
    This bed is moving.
    And you and I
    Form the mountains.

  29. claudsy

    Fiction came to mind with this prompt. The story leaped into my mind and wouldn’t go away. Here it is.

    One Legend’s Lesson

    “Burn the want out of every moment,”
    Connor said, smacking my staff away.

    “Don’t breathe if not fully, deeply.
    Life must be tasted, appreciated.

    Staff swinging, I memorize his words;
    My life on this mortal world requires it.

    “See sun’s glory, soak in its energy.
    Moonshine comes soon enough.”

    My rhythm breaks, as does my staff
    In the flurry of Connor’s master strokes.

    He stands over me, breathing calm
    Assurance into his defeated opponent.

    “Only McLeods offer true mercy in
    This game called mortal life.”

    His words peal through my mind,
    Reminding me of mercy’s truth;

    Highlanders don’t need tartans
    To take the battle to their foes.

  30. CLKone

    The world, a helicopter seed
    Spinning its course
    Around a sun marking time,
    Turning night into day and
    Flying a moon kite
    Tethered by magnetic force,
    Incubates humanity under
    the Watchful Eye of the
    universe.

  31. Marianv

    In My Dreams

    My bed is a planet
    Its orbit is wobbly
    When I awaken, who will I be?

    Many long nights, lost in our journeys
    Traveling together with the moon
    And the stars…
    Our planet castle, our planet headquarters
    Oh, how we danced as the music was ours.

    My planet grows older, a lumpy foundation
    A cast-away moon and some left-over stars
    No need to guide me, my travels are ended
    Sweet dreams forever, my planet is home.

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