Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 200

OMG, it’s been a month since my last poetry prompt! And it’s the 200th Wednesday Poetry Prompt ever! I guess I’d better quit using exclamation points, eh?

For this week’s prompt, take the phrase “In the Company of (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: “In the Company of Strangers,” “In the Company of Poets,” and “In the Company of Abraham Lincoln.”

Here’s my attempt at an In the Company of Blank poem:

“In the Company of a Bunch of Good for Nothing Scoundrels”

Guy walks in the door and everybody turns to take a gander
hands at the hilt, fingers on the trigger. Happy, the guy says,
“I’m getting married! Drinks are on me!” The barkeep uncorks
a bottle as a few men cheer. Others stare at the guy–suspicious
as ever–but he doesn’t pay them any attention. When one big
dude with a handlebar mustache sneaks up on the guy, he
turns and ducks just in time to miss a punch. Then, he counters
with a right that lands the mustache dude against the bar,
which is all it takes to start others picking up chairs and throwing
punches. The whole bar a kicking and a gouging and a robbing
except for me and the barkeep. While he keeps clear behind
his bar, I play a catchy tune from the safety of my piano.


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73 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 200

  1. SharoninDallas


    In the company of men
    There is no good thing.

    In the company of men
    There is everything.

    In the company of men
    You never win.

    In the company of men
    How you sin.

    In the company of men
    How you cry.

    In the company of men
    How you fly.

    In the company of men
    How you try.

    In the company of men
    How you live.

  2. Mr. Walker

    in the company of introverts

    silence is rampant
    but not relentless

    no day is bland or boring
    but instead delicate

    there is no stress
    in this space we’ve forged

    an innate spectrum
    that rejuvenates

    we can coast
    not speaking

    keeping our opinions
    under our hats

  3. rustydude

    In the Company of Sorrow

    By David De Jong
    December 8, 2012

    I found him lying helpless, shivering in the snow,
    His golden coat loosing its warm tempered glow.

    With each breath he struggled for life from the air,
    To see him, made my heart grieve, it just wasn’t fair.

    He was just a dog, but an old faithful friend,
    My spirit plunged, knowing this was his end.

    Gently I gathered him, alone, far from his warm bed,
    Wrapped him in a blanket and then placed him on a sled.

    Up to the house we went and I carried him inside,
    Not knowing what else to do, I just waited at his side.

    Each gasp showed strain as his eyes began to fade,
    No strength to move, tucked in a blanket, he just laid.

    The vet was busy, attending a distant farmer’s herd,
    It’d be all day before he finished, is what we heard.

    So we started to wait and watch, giving him comfort, best we knew,
    Blood and pain in each breath; I couldn’t make him suffer through.

    I left him in the house and went to dig a grave in frozen ground,
    Wondering where, I remembered some hay on the hill, left in a mound.

    Still on the sled I took him for a final walk over the snow.
    The look in his eyes, he knew it was his time, asking to go.

    We said our goodbyes as I wrapped him and carried him to his spot.
    Winter’s silence was broken, as my rifle released each aching shot.

    As the two pieces of lead pierced my old friend’s heart,
    Absolute agony simply tore me completely apart.

    With no disrespect, I often ponder that time and the sorrow of the loss,
    Wondering how God felt, watching his Son suffer and die on the cross.

    How He too watched in agony, knowing exactly what He must do,
    Observing, sensing the pain as each nail His hands and feet pierced through.

    I dare not compare my grief to that of God’s watching His Son die,
    But it gives me a small taste of the sacrifice, His sorrow, if I try.

    All in all, it demonstrates just how gracious and loving God can be,
    That He would actually do something like that, for a sinner like me.

  4. Michelle Hed

    In the Company of Angels

    I walked alone –
    no one to hold my hand,
    no one to hear my voice,
    a mantle of snow
    on my shoulders.
    I walked alone.
    My road ended at a gate
    and seeing nothing but swirling snow
    around me, I entered,
    closing the gate with an audible snick.
    I walked alone.
    I turned
    and the snow was gone,
    lush green fields filled my vision
    and the sun descended
    and landed before me
    welcoming me home.
    I no longer walk alone.

  5. pwiddess

    This was originally called ‘In The Company Of Newton.’


    We used to be free, lightly treading over treetops,
    Making sport on flying brooms,
    Turning somersaults over the moon.
    Then Newton taught us
    About the force that binds us to the Earth,
    Laid down laws dictating that we cannot and will not leave the ground.
    We still do of course, when he’s not around,
    Dropping to our places when he enters the room.
    The braver pupils hover an inch above their chairs,
    Dare each other to float to the ceiling
    When his back’s turned to write on the board.

  6. JRSimmang

    In the Company of Wolves and Winter

    It wasn’t long before the fire decided
    to breathe one heavy, hissing sigh
    and pop into a forlorn pile of grey and white.
    We waited in silence until the room was cold,
    too cold for the likes of me and her,
    and so we folded in upon one another,
    sucking in at the last scratching heat in between us.
    There comes a point in the evening where the sun
    no longer gains purchase in our eyes;
    it becomes no more real to us than the
    wintery upheaval surrounding our entangled limbs.
    The moon will rise tonight.
    Affection, it is not.
    Our casual conversation keeps coaxes us to sleep,
    or tries to anyway,
    since the hoarfrost is gathering in our eyelids
    and the it is currently snowing over our shoulders.

    I try to think back about what brought us here.
    Perhaps, it was just a series of swerving miscalculations
    where we thought we had reached a point of settling
    and now the skies were finally clear.
    Perhaps, it was the theory that we still had enough fuel to
    keep the combusters combusting.
    Either way, it is too much to be crowded with
    a winter wonderland.

    She sighs so much that I fear her spirit is slowly making a
    run for the edge of this world,
    seeking self preservation in the warmth of the afterlife.
    I don’t blame her for anything.
    Our bed is a shovel
    filled with the powder that falls every December.

    Eventually, we find sleep,
    trick it out from its hiding place,
    and lay our heads on each others’ arms.
    It is not comfortable,
    laying here as we are,
    huddled up like two chuks of beef in a stew.
    In the distance, the moon beckons the response from a wolf,
    a world away,
    snarling and smiling for he
    knows something we do not.
    He knows that survival is instinct,
    and in this moment of weakness,
    she and I lack it.

  7. Marianv

    In the Company of Cats

    Silent, sinuous, she sneaks
    Through the door. Snake-like
    She squeezes close to the floor
    Slithers between the legs of my chair
    Purrs her appreciation at he pieces
    Of chicken I sneak to her from
    My dinner plate.

  8. Bruce Niedt

    In the Company of Christmas

    Christmas and I walked the streets of our town,
    nineteen days before his birthday.
    Everyone seemed to know him.
    The kids waved and yelled, “I can’t wait for you!”
    and “I know what I want for you!” and “Why don’t
    you have a red suit and a long white beard?”
    A businessman hustling by gave Christmas
    a thumbs-up and grinned, “How’s my cash cow?”
    A beefy guy in coveralls with a lunch pail said,
    “I hope this year you’re white.”
    “I don’t think he meant to sound racist,”
    said Christmas. A serviceman saluted.
    “I’ll be home for you.” Some folks said,
    “Happy Hanukkah!” and Christmas said it right back.
    A self-righteous woman scowled,
    “There’s not enough Christ in you,” but Christmas
    just smiled. “I know what I’m all about.”
    As we got closer to the center of town,
    the bustle became louder. People pushed
    and shoved in a hurry to get to Christmas.
    They wanted his autograph; they shouted his name.
    “I want you to be the best ever!” some laughed,
    but those who’d lost loved ones sobbed,
    “You just make more depressed.”
    The stores were shrines and paeans to Christmas,
    and the loudspeakers blared his name.
    “It’s beginning to look a lot like you,” I said.
    Christmas just shook his head.
    “Nineteen days. I can’t wait to be over.”

  9. Sara McNulty

    Haven’t read any except Robert’s, and that is inspiring.

    In The Company Of Strangers Sitting In A Darkened Theater

    Needs escape.
    Not in an over-sized
    television screen–
    movie playing in HD–
    nearly riding reality
    into her living space.
    Awareness of familiar
    surroundings cannot
    disappear, limiting
    definition of escape.

    In cool, dim theater,
    identically soldiered seats
    face forward, focus on stage
    where screen provides
    the only truth. Periphery
    of senses absorb sweet,
    and salted scents, perhaps
    muted male colognes, or
    female flowered perfumes.
    Darkness obliterates all
    but the film, filled with sound
    of speaker’s song. You disappear,
    a silent role in a storied escape.

  10. JWLaviguer

    In the Company of Darkness

    Lightbulb burned out
    can’t see a thing
    but I know my way around

    Until something buzzes
    past my ear
    was it a bee

    My hand on the rail
    used to be smooth
    but now feels scaly

    And its moving
    open my mouth
    to scream

    Nothing comes out
    I can’t move
    but am moving

    honey wake up
    it was a nightmare.

    1. claudsy

      Okay, I have to admit I took a U-turn with this one and did something completely different. I did a travel history piece with this about a place I thoroughly enjoy. I have no explanation as to why I did it, other than it’s the first thing that popped into my head upon readying the prompt.

      In the Company of Past Texans

      Within sight of Gulf’s waters,
      Hemmed in by asphalt stretches,
      Resides ranks of past Texans;
      Some famous, some obscure,
      Yet all proud to claim their
      Names and their places amid

      Monuments from centuries past.
      From Jean Lafitte to Michel Menard,
      Principals walked the streets, singing
      Opera, or gaining stature, influence,
      Leaving imprints in sand, history, and
      Names upon stone lintels among rows.

      The Great Storm claimed thousands,
      Leveled near as many buildings, giving rise
      To blazing pyre’s black smoke to darken
      Galveston’s skies, leaving behind
      Grim determination to persevere.

      Those brave and farseeing fighters
      Wrestled time and dirt and rock,
      Raising island’s center for survival,
      Allowing future storms to bash, but
      Not batter and bludgeon them again,
      Not even when Ike came to visit.

      Moody Gardens add a peaceful touch
      For those who have walked the Strand,
      Observed the tall ship Elissa, or wandered
      Gently curving beaches beyond seawalls;
      Always within sight of modern additions
      To history made by lingering past Texans.

  11. Brad Bricktower

    In the Company of the Trees

    Overwhelmed, I breathe in, deep, what once was air
    to fill my lungs with quieting peace,
    instead I am painfully tickled by what ought not be there:
    smoke – and all around me are the trees.
    Towering, metallic, reflective, highly polished —
    there are people leaping from the trees;
    they plummet down, down, and they’re demolished.
    The earth sustains some psychic injuries.

    I walk, and I walk, and I run, ’til I can’t,
    and I walk and I run some more, and more
    out of breath (even more than when mere soot clawed me); and,
    I collapse there — on the forest floor.
    My insides are bleeding (I’m feeding the cycle —
    we wake to die further each day —
    refusing to reuse the refuse inside of
    the earth organism that we’re throwing away).

    Even the trees of the forest are poison:
    their bark-char the tar in our veins,
    their leaves leaving us; they’ve all made their choice, and
    we’ve driven the trees all insane.
    Their sap is an oil, their roots are all cables,
    their wood pulp is rotting, their full of old flesh,
    and I’m choking to death; catch your breath if you’re able,
    but the trees have stopped making fresh
    air, fresh water, fresh life and protection.
    We die harder each day with our chemical erection
    thrust deep into some machine
    while we spill blood and spread plagues, and crush all the eggs — for to conquer a world that’s unclean.

    I am in the company of the company of trees —
    trees that forsake me, and break me, and take me
    to their new world (a world full of peace)
    by slaying those who would ask: “Can’t somebody wake me?”
    But, my life, my world, my now, I’d rather keep,
    So I guess I’ll just stay asleep.

  12. foodpoet

    In the Company of Cats

    Your ego me first
    Adore me
    Stills fingers momentarily
    But come on I am writing about

    But for now
    Put down pen
    And words
    To rub our ears
    Ahh purrr

  13. KathyintheWallowas

    News from a small town:
    In the company of dirty horses

    the barn sighs, as ever, grain rattles
    in the bin when the creaky old top
    tips open. a flake of hay, some
    designer horse vitamins, a splash
    of apple cider vinegar, the slam
    of a gate and the sough of the wind
    and there around the corner, sliding
    in mud comes the little mare; I could
    have sworn she was black and glossy
    but that was September. winter now.

  14. Jane Shlensky

    Sorry. I’m tardy to the party again. I’m asking for punctuality for Christmas.

    In the Company of Techies

    They come as from another land
    into my office, galking at books
    from floor to ceiling, remarking
    “All of that could be on Kindle.”

    They listen, nodding before I’m finished,
    Yes, yes, they see my problem,
    not theirs, of course, MY problem,
    born of technological ignorance.

    Can you just click here, they say,
    then here, then go to Tools?
    Do you see Tools? It’s at the top,
    that’s right, you’re getting it.

    The older one speaks softly as to
    a frantic woman holding a knife,
    but the younger one is impatient,
    Just move, and let me do it!

    I don’t curse them as they humor
    me with their techno-banter
    for they are conquerors entering
    the village they’ve won only to find

    it filled with idiots, children, the aged
    who look down the barrels of their weapons
    wondering where the kaleidoscope is.
    And besides they pity me. We click.

    I abide the condescension,
    the snarky looks and rolling eyes,
    if they will only fix my problem.
    Then I’ll be in a position to explain

    computer-side manners, to say
    that in this non-digital environment,
    the villagers are funny and wordy,
    endearing and deep and send cookies.

  15. julie e.


    I choose her favorites:
    blue, green, purple
    for ornaments,
    a blue star
    for the top.
    My tree is alive with
    her colors
    and I am in
    the company of my sister
    once again.

  16. sonja j

    In the Company of Water

    You begin to remember
    that you once knew how
    to float, great breaths filling
    your sleek chest.

    Then there is the fear
    of things below you, dark
    above and light beneath.
    The hurrying, the panic,
    as you thrash your fins.

    You strike out across
    the still surface, breaching
    and sounding, streamlined,
    giving up your bones.

    Until, at last, you copy
    your very history, drag
    yourself through the shallows,
    raise your eyes to dry land.

  17. Patricia A. Hawkenson

    In the Company of Ketchup Packs

    There was only silent
    as she rose from the cafeteria table
    walking like it didn’t matter
    that her new blouse
    was ruined,
    that her efforts
    to make one friend,
    just one,
    ended as Kyle began
    his one handed show
    of strength.

    The contagious virus
    fell on every table
    as their hands began
    quivering over smirking grins,
    not one of them
    strong enough
    to stop it.

  18. seingraham

    In the Company of Crazy

    Chronicling a life of lunacy
    Has had its moments
    No doubt about it
    Week after week, trotting
    Out the evidence that yes
    My constant companion
    For oh so many years
    Has been Madam Insanity
    And she can be a harsh
    And horrible hoodlum
    Hanging about my neck
    As surely as any albatross
    But just as much as I grew
    To resent her omnipresence
    Without quite realizing when
    Or how, I also fell under her spell
    Of familiarity – and it didn’t breed
    Contempt exactly, no, instead
    I got so used to the constancy
    Of my craziness that I could not
    Imagine my life without her
    Began to rely on the fact of her
    Being there, with me always
    Started to resist any attempt
    To remove her presence
    Her somewhat comforting
    Alwaysness – isn’t that, well


  19. taylor graham


    Who was it last night—in my mind,
    the silhouette of a shepherd-dog, dark
    against sunset, skimming a ridgetop
    above Winnemucca Lake.

    None of my living dogs. Cowboy’s
    stretched out in the entry, asleep with ears
    alert to intruders. Loki’s curled against
    my legs. But in my dream, leaf-murmur

    of a dog moving through dark woods.
    I see the ghostly-green light-stick, good
    spirit of the forest; a dog on search.
    And then it changed as dreams do.

    A shepherd pausing by a pond as autumn
    woods drifted saffron-yellow down
    around her. I called a name—Roxy—but
    it changed to Cody – Taco – Prissy – Sardy.

    So many lost friends. But now,
    Cowboy stands by the bed and Loki’s
    nudging me awake. The sun’s still dark
    behind Stone Mountain.

  20. RJ Clarken

    In the Company of Silliness

    Games and gags and puns and wits
    and giggles, knock-knock jokes, odd bits
    of nonsense are what make me tick
    ‘cause being silly’s such a kick.

    I really love when someone makes
    some jest which leads to gross spit takes.
    I think that life’s a big joystick
    ‘cause being silly’s such a kick.

    …but didja here the one about…?
    yeah, laughter rocks. I must point out
    I love a sense of humor. Slick!
    ‘cause being silly’s such a kick.

    So bring on silly walks and then
    a whoopee cushion, squirting pen.
    I just adore it – all this shtick
    ‘cause being silly’s such a kick.


  21. RJ Clarken

    In the Company of Northern Decemberists

    Year end rapidly approaches.
    Sunlight fades and night encroaches.
    Ice-blue shadows. Apparition.
    That’s December’s disposition.

    Days grow shorter, colder, solemn.
    Breath becomes a cloud-like column.
    Monochromes in snow tradition.
    That’s December’s disposition.

    Holidays with twinkling lights:
    displays in greens, reds, blues and whites.
    Every year, in repetition,
    that’s December’s disposition.

    A festival of sight and sound.
    Emotions stirred become unbound.
    Year end’s aim? Juxtaposition.
    That’s December’s disposition.


  22. PKP

    In The Company of Henry Thoreau

    I walk around the pond
    and meet him head on
    coming toward me –
    and we both turn and
    with a deep breath
    regain our solitude and

    1. Jane Shlensky

      Oh, Rob, you’ve helped me embrace my inner crazy. I talk to myself all the time, especially in the car, and really do enjoy conversations with me, sometimes missing my exits. Reminds me of The Importance of Being Earnest, when Cecily carries her own diary so she will have something enjoyable to read on the train. Such good company, friend.

  23. De Jackson

    In the Company of Loving Lunatics

                    You don’t get to pick
                your crazy, she
                           says and we all snicker
                      allow ourselves to feel
                                             with the hands
                                                    we’ve been

    Happy 200th, ya’ll!

  24. sismanalt

    In the Company of Giants

    Footsteps boom through the rooms, nearly cracking the floors
    Objects carelessly fly through the air, lacking all precision
    Crumbs and splatters leave a trail, deceiving the path of travel
    All of this and more, in the company of giants

    Carcasses, covered in colorful fur, are recklessly strewn about
    War cries and shouts cause walls to shake and leave ear drums nearly shattered
    Artillery has lost its luster and is left to collect dust in the corner
    Such is the life, in the company of giants

    Receiving unexpected and fierce embraces without an explanation
    Being chosen as the conqueror of fear and pain when they are on the threshold
    Exploding with fathomless, raw love when looking into the eyes of my beautiful boys
    To be so very blessed, in the company of these two giants

    -T. Sisman

  25. Ber

    In the company of Rules
    Found in places
    where no one else goes
    shallow breaths
    shallow halls
    beyond imagination
    fearing falls

    Scream and no one hears
    no one knows where it leads
    no one can sense
    your isolation
    no one really cares

    In a mind of frustration
    in a state of solitude
    in a body of lingering nothing
    shaping up against
    a shadow of before

    Smiling glimpses
    of who he used to be
    not yet knowing where he was going
    looking for effort from all
    who lay before him
    the nothing filled him inside
    nothing filled his wild

    Master of all
    of none had he become
    until she walked
    into his life
    filling his inner sight

    No judgement
    no thoughts of indifference
    only wanting to understand
    his feelings of unpleasant

    Share it out
    reap me like a wild flower
    pull my stem
    from nothing that is there
    wolves on my sleeves
    for all to bare

  26. Mystical-Poet

    In the Company of Pops’

    Everyone’s friend

    when he’s holding a beer

    if you overlook his slack-jawed

    tobacco chewin’, pig farming, misfit ways

    A train wreck on two feet

    but oh can he cook!

    pig roasting maestro

    host of legendary shindigs

    whole pig stuffed with whole turkey

    turkey stuffed with whole duck

    partridge cooker extraordinaire

    semi-famous among the in-crowd (Phish)

    smoked salmon/ trout spread ,

    smoked salt, smoked quail

    smoked bluefish salad

    and of course most famous of all

    Pops’ Original Smoked Maple Syrup

    among friends of friends

    Pops’, a legend in his own mind

  27. JWLaviguer

    In The Company of the Unseen

    You walk past me
    like I’m not there
    not recognizing
    the sacrifice
    I made
    for you
    for them
    the children
    who play
    and laugh
    I am a guardian
    in the night
    so you may sleep
    and dream
    I cannot sleep
    I don’t wish to dream
    for they turn
    to nightmares
    of nights alone
    out on the wire
    with my weapon
    and silence.

  28. Nancy Posey

    This may sound a little sappy (for me at least), but we sometimes pick up this little nonagenarian and give her a ride to church. She is living with pancreatic cancer but shames me with her optimism. The “little secret” she always stage whispers to everyone who shows her the least kindness.

    In the Company of Saints

    I find myself in the company of saints,
    wrinkled, wizened, bent by burdens
    invisible but real—age, disease, time.
    She hobbles unsteadily on her walker,
    her knit cap pulled low over her skull
    as bare as a baby bird’s.

    An act as simple as climbing into the car
    becomes an orchestrated effort—
    step, scoot, stoop, turn, shift—
    trusting others to stow her stuff.
    the small gifts teetering on her handlebars,
    one for the child who will always
    be a child, who always smiles
    at her approach; another, the recipient
    unassigned, brought along just in case.

    Reaching our destination, she takes
    the hand offered, lifting her out,
    back onto her feet. Beckoning
    with a crooked finger, she always says
    to anyone who aids her, “Let me tell you
    a secret,” one she’s told so often
    it is no secret, as bending down we hear
    her say, “ I love you.”

  29. Domino

    In the Company of the Undead

    Dry bones, dusty and
    acrid with the patina
    and scent of
    years long

    They rattle as I move,
    and I try not to move too much
    so as not to disturb
    their slumber,
    though I am half-asleep
    awake in only the most
    subliminal sense.

    Still, my mind is not asleep,
    and I wonder if this,
    this is the actual fate of those
    with insomnia
    and busy minds that are never still.
    Is it my destiny to really

    I surely don’t belong here,
    here I am,
    surrounded by
    the emptiness
    and hollow sound
    of me not breathing,
    my heart not beating,
    again trying to fit in
    and not wake the rest
    of the dead.

    Diana Terrill Clark

  30. Walt Wojtanik

    Inspired by Domino’s poem:


    Here we sit, together,
    my six friends and I
    no worse for wear
    (excluding the headache and retching)
    and I’m catching a cold on top of that.
    I can never remember:
    Feed a cold? – Starve a cold?
    I’ll just get the bastard drunk
    and let it sleep me off!

  31. bluerabbit47

    In the Company of Artists

    when I was a child
    I sat in the corner
    and listened as my
    parents laughed
    and talked with their
    friends in our tiny
    walk-up apartment.
    Once, at Christmas,
    someone brought
    my father a rainbow
    box of colors and I
    thought how wonderful
    to play a whole
    life long.

    When I was a child
    I stood low
    and watched
    as men in suits
    and women in
    best dresses
    spoke softly,
    admiring paintings
    on the walls
    of one or another
    gallery and I thought
    how wonderful
    to share a whole
    life long.

    When I was a child
    I sat very still
    in the back
    of my father’s
    friend’s car
    and watched
    them paint the
    afternoon, she
    in the front seat,
    he by the road
    and I thought
    how wonderful
    to keep a whole
    life long.

  32. Domino

    In the Company of My Betters

    How can I explain? I feel
    like a poser
    at times.
    And maybe somehow,
    I figure
    if I practice
    a lot
    and rub shoulders
    with giants,
    then, someday
    maybe, with some hard work
    and lots of inspiration,
    I might be as fine
    a poet
    as you
    talented people.

    Diana Terrill Clark

  33. Walt Wojtanik


    In the company for twenty-six years,
    you’d think I’d learn by now,
    that I’m the legs of this machine
    driving this cash cow.

    I’ve broken your back (literally) for these slobs
    and little thanks is given,
    I tore my shoulder into shreds,
    it’s a wonder I’m still living.

    Bi-lateral hernia, discomfort and more
    and yet the pain still begs,
    Years later and I’m still quite sore,
    should’ve lifted with my legs.

    Just an army of one,
    and my work load’s increased,
    If I weren’t having fun
    I’d think I’m deceased.

    In the company for twenty-six years,
    a fact you take quite humorously.
    the gold watch they’ll give when I retire
    will probably be posthumously.

  34. Walt Wojtanik


    I know them.
    I know them by their words.
    I know them by their hearts.
    And it all starts here that I know.
    We have grown as poets; friends
    we haven’t yet met. But I get this feeling
    that we are dealing with a community steeped
    in unity and expression. Our sole mission
    is to reach deeply an offer our words to touch

    1. Walt Wojtanik

      and cajole , taking full control of our wit and poetic wile.
      We have a style that we all share, a flair to write
      what is right. In the company of strangers.

      ***Sorry, hand tremors made me double clutchd on the post comments button. This is the last three line from above.

      Celebrating the poetic friends established here at PA and flourishing at the POETIC BLOOMINGS site, where we’ve released our new collection, “POETIC BLOOMINGS: the first year”.

  35. laurie kolp

    In the Company of Dogs

    Is this a battle
    of the sexes, or maybe
    perhaps breeds?

    A one-dog-up-man-ship
    vying for all of me?

    In my lap,
    a fluid harvest
    awaits, treats
    for each one

    or so you’d think
    by the way
    they act

    as jealous as
    a teenage crush.

  36. PowerUnit

    Singing sideways on the sidewalks of sun
    Whistling wandering words on Wednesdays
    Blowing billowing bubblegum balloons
    Listening to lounge lizard Larry lie to Lisa
    I laugh through life in the company of fools


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