Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 197

For today’s poetry prompt, write an answer poem. That is, imagine a question (or think of a question you’ve been asked recently) and use your poem to answer that question.

Here’s my attempt:

“Where are you now?”

I’m lost in the line
breaks, creeping among
the metaphors,
dancing with reason,
and trying to capture
the moment…


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181 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 197

  1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    feral cats
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    where are my feral cats?
    they’re usually here every morning,
    their scared but hungry faces hunkered down at my back door
    knowing food and sympathy need be only minutes away,
    well worth the inconvenience of wind & rain
    and perhaps a touch of humbleness
    to fill these otherwise clean but
    empty bowls.

    © 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  2. tunesmiff

    G. Smith (BMI)
    At the far end of the bar,
    Half-watching the playoff game,
    Sits a guy who comes in most nights,
    (I ought to know his name).
    He only orders up a beer;
    He rarely drinks it all,
    And he always nods on his way out,
    As I close up at last call.

    One evening here, I think last week,
    Things were pretty slow;
    So I struck up a conversation,
    Not tryin’ to pry, you know.
    I found out that he lived alone,
    Though that hadn’t always been the case,
    When I asked him what had happened,
    A sad smile crossed his face.

    And he said,
    “This is how you loser her:
    A little at a time,
    Through silly little simple things,
    Without reason; without rhyme.

    Come home late, forget to call,
    Spend Saturdays watching college ball.
    Too much golf; too much fishin’,
    Too much pretending that you listen.
    Nights out with the boys, though you’re not a boozer;
    Follow these steps, and,
    This is how you lose her.”

    Well I screwed up my courage,
    As I unscrewed a cap,
    (He’d rather have a long neck
    Than what I have on tap).
    And I asked if there was anything else,
    That he’d be willing to share;
    Well he looked into his fresh-filled glass,
    And found this answer there.

    He said,
    “This is how you loser her,
    A little at a time,
    Through silly little simple things,
    Without reason; without rhyme.

    Forget to say I love you, or good night,
    Or make up after a nasty fight,
    Or insist that you are always right,
    Or fail to hold her good and tight.
    You don’t have to be an abuser…
    Just follow these steps, and,
    This is how you lose her.

    “The little things become big things,
    And the next thing that you know,
    There’s a tear in her eye as she says good-bye,
    And tells you she must go…

    “Yes, this is how you lose her;
    A little at a time;
    Through silly little simple things,
    Without reason; without rhyme.”

  3. miss josh

    “Why Did My Mother Hate Me?”

    Southern Baptist woman
    Married an alcoholic
    Golden girl
    Blonde hair, blue eyes, college bound

    Almost free to divorce
    Back alley abortions
    No choice
    Ugly girl
    Mousey brown hair, brown eyes, disabled
    No divorce

    Freedom achieved

    miss josh emmett
    copyright 2012

  4. Ann M

    Why are there so many leaves this year?

    Even with the snowless winter
    and rain-dry spring,
    the trees grew like weeds,
    rooting deeper underground,
    disturbing pipes and pavement,

    In October, the trees’ brown leaves
    are like the specks in my mother’s eyes,
    darkening cloud and sun alike,
    waiting for the chill and day’s wind
    to lay a blanket on us all.

  5. my hearts love songs

    fascinating poetry this week!!! wonderful prompt!


    why must we be a world apart?

    how cruel the reality of our existence
    that tore you from my embrace!
    cannot life be kind this once?

    time betrays us, too
    each minute stretching into days
    whilst we endure our forced separation

    what Gods determined that this should be so
    what terrible deed did we commit to offend them
    or could it simply be that they are jealous of our love?

    no matter how long it takes
    i will be waiting for the moment
    when once again i shall be in your arms

    i am forever yours, my Love

  6. Marjory MT

    I am just another poet whose ‘commenting tooooooo fast” that is what I am told.
    Guess that my last post (couple days ago) did not post either! 🙁
    I give it another go.

    IF YOU COULD FLY? Triolet

    If I could but fly upon a wing
    Just to and fro I think I’d go
    Perhaps to fly with birds that sing
    If I could but fly upon a wing
    Then gather treasure to homeward bring
    From lands that no one else can know
    If I could but fly upon a wing
    Just to and fro I think I’d go.

  7. bluerabbit47

    They come
    pouring through
    cracks in consciousness,
    spilling into quiet
    breaking down
    dams of resolve,
    dripping like
    down mossy
    corners at the back
    of my mind.
    They wet
    my hair and leave
    me shivering
    in the middle
    of the night.
    No towel
    can absorb
    their insistence
    until I sit down
    and let them
    flow into
    Where do
    I get them?
    I wish
    I knew.

  8. Michelle Hed

    Robert – I loved your question and idea so much that I “stole” it. 🙂 I was painting on Wednesday and it seemed to fit. Thanks.

    Where are you now?

    Lost in a forest of english ivy
    and burnt sienna
    searching for an owl
    whose shape won’t quite form
    but he watches me with intense eyes
    as I try to sculpt his shape with my brush
    and a bit of autumn brown.

    *****Having a horrible time trying to post – will add my other poem to the same post on the off chance I actually get through. ****

    When will you arrive? (Sonnet)

    When will you arrive mon petit bebe?
    Will your hair be dark or fair as spun gold?
    Blue eyes or brown or something new maybe?
    I long to meet you and in my arms hold.

    The days are longer, the nights ever short
    as you grow and move, keeping me awake;
    Preparing me for when you will hold court
    knowing the life before, I will forsake.

    They say that I glow with inner smiles,
    little lullabies are heard as I hum
    as I sit folding clothes into piles
    dreaming of the little one yet to come.

    For now I sit here rocking my tummy,
    dreaming of the day when I’m your Mummy.

  9. Misky


    Fall to pieces, a tumbling heart of cards,
    Nor shall I weep, not a trickle, I’ll
    Dance as you walk away.
    Nor shall I deprive myself
    Of sleep – yet be me
    Saddened, stricken,
    And smutted lowly with grief. No, I’ll
    dance as you walk away.

  10. PKP

    ARRRGGGHHHHHHHH so completely frustrated – tried posting comments earlier yesterday afternoon – now find myself at nearly 3AM trying to comment only to meet with the ROBOT-EDITOR (not to be confused with the Robert Editor) and told even when posting in slo-mo that I AM POSTING TOO QUICKLY! Example: I tried posting nine times to one poem before the reply posted! I surrender. Some truly wonderful poems … Yole, Jane, Julie, Sharon, Marie, Dan, Mike, Taylor …actually too many to mention without the ROBOT EDITOR I was looking forward to giving so very many poems their deserved individual praise. Thanks to one and all for this terrific reads! With a surrendered wave – I bid all a goodnight (or goodmorning as the case may be!)

  11. taylor graham

    for a certain 10-week-old puppy

    What’s beyond the doorstep?
    the bamboo-jungle hedge. Beyond
    that, the driveway.

    Don’t turn your back, she’s
    headed at a puppy-trot for who knows
    where. She’s got a wanderlust

    we never taught her.
    Beyond the front-yard fence, the roar
    of traffic. Catch her quick!

    She’s gone already past the edge
    of shrubbery. There’s
    a world out there. She means

    to measure it by puppy-stride
    and eye and nose, to taste it, roll in it;
    to know the shade of redwood,

    poison sumac, tarweed, tamarind;
    to run from one earth’s end
    until its other. To become the wind.


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