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Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 260

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

This is the final Wednesday Poetry Prompt before the 2014 April PAD Challenge. By the way, have you seen the big (breaking) news about the April challenge? We’re going to have a guest judge for each day of the challenge! Click here to read about it.

For today’s prompt, write an excited poem. Of course, I’m a bit excited about the upcoming challenge–in a good way. But excited can manifest itself in plenty of other ways as well, including feeling sick, scared, or upset. One of my favorite “excitable” characters is Barney Fife from the Andy Griffith Show.

Here’s my attempt at an Excited Poem:

“to want”

like lovers in a park
who have never made love
i can get overexcited

about what may happen
but hasn’t happened yet
often i feel expectation

is a thin shield of leaves
covering a deep pit
without a clean way to escape

*****

Workshop your poetry!

Click here to learn more.

*****

Robert Lee Brewer

Robert Lee Brewer

Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems. A previous Poet Laureate of the Blogosphere, he’s excited about the upcoming April PAD (Poem-A-Day) Challenge.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.

*****

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About Robert Lee Brewer

Senior Content Editor, Writer's Digest Community.

135 Responses to Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 260

  1. Zart_is says:

    Breathless raging urgency
    splinters of glass
    all underfoot. Rushed
    molten copper spilling
    wasted in sand.
    My frantic focus
    once distracted, lost
    with a growl of frustration.
    Wishing it wasn’t really blood
    copper could of been a small fortune,
    now dollar signs on doctor bills
    flash around like ambulance lights.
    Needles, stitches, discomfort
    then numbness, then it is just pain
    Too excited, sleepless, wild worry.
    Coveting calm.

  2. foodpoet says:

    In the shadow of April word floods
    I remain unexcited.
    I should be happy, pen in hand
    Ready to write
    Write
    Write

    In the shadow of April word floods
    April fools of more me first from
    Work
    Family
    Nursing home
    Taxes
    And maybe writing

    In the shadow of April word floods
    I hope my mind can spin free of the above
    And
    Just
    Write
    In the shadow of April word floods…

  3. tunesmiff says:

    MARCH MADNESS

    Babel of birdsong;
    Buds on branches wait in the wings
    to burst forth in a cacophony of color.

    Can the sweet or the elite
    compare to the final
    days of winter’s waning?

  4. The April PAD is coming

    I was beside myself…
    so I asked him
    if it were true.
    He smacked me
    in the face,
    disappearing from view.

  5. Madness in April

    You
    Just can’t
    Stop;
    The madness,
    In April.
    Just let it out.
    Daily!!

  6. Heidi R de C says:

    Grasshoppers’ Candy

    I am excited
    that grasshoppers eat honey
    off the honeybee’s tongue.
    “How do you eat honey off the honeybee’s tongue?” I ask.
    It’s simple,” Grasshopper says.
    “We scrub his tongue
    with mulberry twigs
    and eat the bark like candy.”
    We store these honey canes
    in our mud daubers’ pantry.
    Alas, we must hire the armored beetles
    to guard the larder.
    Since ants are notorious thieves.”

  7. Clae says:

    New Life

    little green sprouts
    excited to see
    a world outside the soil
    emerge to taste the air
    in the chill-warm sunlight
    delighted gardener
    grins down at the soil
    excited to see
    little green sprouts

  8. Chris says:

    Vacation!

    It’s mere midweek for most.
    For this I do not envy.
    I do not try to boast,
    But MY week is now ending.

    First thing I will do tonight
    Is eat dinner with some wine
    With a girl who made my life so bright.
    Anniversary number nine.

    Tomorrow we may get our boat.
    We hope it does get done.
    We’ll eat our dinner while we float,
    and watch the setting sun.

    Then we’ll drive to Austin.
    The wind tunnel we will fly.
    And when we’re full of awesome
    Again now we must drive.

    To our family’s house we’ll go.
    Seeing those we’ve missed all year.
    To unwind and take it slow.
    To share laughs and drink some beer.

    Saturday is full of fun.
    Comal River we will float.
    Bright blue sky and shining sun.
    Our Chug-A-Mugs we tote.

    To the house we now return.
    For this we will be glad.
    Slightly drunk and some sunburned.
    Time to eat crawdads.

    In the morning we will rise
    To deer grazing in the yard.
    We’ll be so sore won’t want to move.
    But we must despite how hard.

    Some on beds and some on rugs,
    Our heads in disarray.
    We curse to Hell our Chug-A-Mugs
    To make us feel this way.

    We’ll pack our things and head on out
    Our home bed is what we seek.
    We had some fun there is no doubt.
    But now we want to sleep.

    So to me do not envy
    My week is at its end
    Cuz sunshine there’ll be plenty
    To enjoy with all my friends.

  9. veronica_gurlie says:

    I did this one for the challenge to and I wrote this inspired by someone I know, who is feeling this way about someone.

    Untitled. (haven’t picked a title yet. anyone suggestions welcomed).

    She wants to wait, but he insist,
    the tiger inside him grows impatient,
    he do not know how long he can resist.

    He dreams of them, in immortal bliss,
    the lust he feel for her, is ancient,
    but she wants to wait, while he insist.

    She’s got river deep eyes and berry sweet lips,
    and she’s such a lady, A FINE creation,
    He do not know how long he can resist.

    He just can’t dismiss, the swish of her hips
    or their naked poetry stimulation,
    or that she wants to wait, but he insist.

    She has this little laugh and flirty wit,
    a cherry blossom scent and sexy accent,
    he do not know how long he can resist.

    Her gentleness makes him want to submit,
    admit he can’t deny, his rising exclamation,
    that she wants to wait, but he insist,
    he do know how long he can resist.

  10. Cin5456 says:

    This Message is Brought to You By…

    I was excited about an out-of-town trip,
    a long delayed vacation.
    My plans were made with meticulous care,
    where to go and what to see,
    every stop mapped and categorized:
    hotel reservations complete,
    plenty of film and batteries,
    and music for along the way;
    oil changed, brakes checked;
    fluids filled, bags packed;
    emergency kit under the seat.
    On that special morning,
    I boarded my cat with friends,
    and pointed my tires eastward.
    Ten miles out of town
    I met a man on the highway.
    He was driving a four ton Dodge
    Ram 3500 Dually pickup truck,
    but he forgot he was driving
    when he texted to his secretary,
    “I’ll be at the office in ten minutes.”
    He didn’t make it there, because
    he was giving me CPR
    after his pickup careened into my lane
    and knocked me clean off the road.
    I lived, but not well. I did not
    get to see the Grand Canyon,
    the Painted Desert, or Carlsbad Caverns.
    Instead I saw blood on my windshield,
    and realized it was mine. Drivers -
    Put your phone in the glove-box, or
    the life you ruin may be mine…
    and I will sue. This message is
    brought to you by
    my lawyer.

    (Sorry for the gloomy message. Couldn’t get this out of my head until I wrote it down. Perhaps drivers will fear losing all they have if they don’t fear losing their life.)

  11. Misky says:

    Food Excitement

    chicken
    in the pot
    pot
    in the oven
    oven
    cooking food
    food
    we’re simply lovin’

  12. “Confrontation”

    There’s crushing of the air;
    an excitation there.
    Electric is the share:
    a double-dog dare.
    My gasp is blocked;
    our eyes are locked.

  13. DamonZ says:

    “Mind Race!”

    So it stirs to find what end?
    Sometimes foe, sometimes friend.
    Left on like a burning light,
    Its fuel, the quiet night.
    Seized in thought of days past.
    Morning coming ever fast.
    What torture to make one break,
    Stop the neurons for sleep’s sake.
    For morning yields no rest.
    Make it stop! I do attest.
    So it stirs to find what end?
    Something new to comprehend.
    Have some mercy on thy heart.
    Convalesce, your counterpart.
    So it stirs to find what end?
    Please stop, I beg you friend.

  14. rachelgrace says:

    a fond memory

    Laughing, he threw his arms around the shoulders of night.
    He smiled secretly feeling her caress his arm
    Threads flowed through the breeze.
    Remember when they used to play?
    She would watch him from a distance across the horizon
    A breath of air that stayed at his side
    Close.

  15. james.ticknor says:

    Eyes of the Storm

    Clouds gather around my pupils

    Darker than ink mixed with midnight dye

    To assemble in fury, forming streaks of lightning tears

    You can’t withstand them and you falter

    But the storm still rages

    Look into the eyes of the storm; they are my eyes

    Look you coward; look at the storm you wrought

    This hurricane doesn’t just devour you

    It consumes all it sees

    Don’t look into the eyes of the storm

    If you can’t look into the eyes of its victims

    But you must, you owe them that

    So look into the eyes of the storm; they are my eyes

    Don’t cry out to the raging winds

    When it was you who caused them

    Your cries will be swept away by them

    If the lowest coward has any honor, then you will look back

    Look into the eyes of the storm and be broken

    For they are my eyes

    .

  16. Sara McNulty says:

    Can I Do This?

    Flushed cheeks, pounding heart,
    nauseated but determined,
    I read my poem out loud.

  17. PressOn says:

    PINS AND NEEDLES

    I can’t
    stop quivering
    shivering, blathering,
    scattering my mind until you
    come back.

  18. Domino says:

    Secretly,
    a blank white page
    holds no terror for me.

    Honest!
    I see it as a conglomeration
    of all possible opportunities.

    Terror
    to mar the pristine beauty?
    Indeed, the opposite is true.

    Eagerness,
    actually, and excitement.
    I can’t wait to start writing words.

    Blankness
    is an invitation to me
    to pour my inky life onto the page

    Muddying
    the perfect, clean perfection
    with two parts lifeblood, one part soul.

    Diana Terrill Clark

  19. Misky says:

    April PAD 2014

    April 1st,
    April Fools,
    Paper piles.
    A pen my tool.
    Write to themes,
    Or by means of dreams,
    April 1st,
    
Inky days extreme.

    - Misky

  20. THE STORK SMOKES!

    Spell-check has changed my cigogne
    to cigarillo – electronic lurch,
    error in continuity and logic? as if my
    well-planned presentation –
    maybe too well planned, a banal
    classical ode full of outdated
    allusion – were trick-mirrored, bitten
    into bytes and spit out
    transmuted by some deus-ex-machina
    of an inscrutable machine –
    to a realm beyond
    cultural expectations, a whole new
    poem in which imagination
    goes fairytale crazy and anything
    could happen.

  21. LeeAnne Ellyett says:

    Exciting, Writing

    Your first play-date, sleepover,
    Young and eager, energy state at overflow,

    The first ribbon, prize, award,
    Accomplishment, achievement, reward,

    Exciting,

    You are emotionally stirred,
    Spinning with activity,
    With your own creativity,

    Animated with action,
    I lose all control,
    Words fill a page,

    Exciting,

    To see it take shape,
    To have it appear in cyberspace,

    Enthusiastic, ecstatic, don’t explain,
    What it is to be part of this game,

    Exciting, Writing.

  22. julie e. says:

    DISCOMFORT.

    She’s excited for her new life and
    equally afraid of the challenges and
    unknowns yet ahead
    Seeing life spread out before her
    on the outside of that door while
    she barely makes it daily out of bed
    And the days keep adding up and
    she isn’t getting younger and
    the grays keep adding up upon her head
    Maybe today can be different and
    her feet will hit the floor when the
    afternoon sun still awaits ahead
    She’s excited for her new life but
    equally afraid that her discomfort
    will send her back
    instead

  23. PKP says:

    The Bulge in His Pocket

    Barefoot they walk
    to a table by the shore
    The sun tonguing the
    surf with gold and purple
    Everything shimmers
    Her hand in his
    Heart beating so hard
    She is sure it can be
    heard over the lapping
    surf… as they sit
    and she tries not to
    see the sharp lines
    of a small box
    in the pocket
    of his
    linen
    pants

  24. WOOW-WOOWING

    Woow-woow! she sang, curving
    her dog-spine smiling a pirouette come
    follow me! woow-woow! up-trail
    across the creek on boulders through willows
    crawling on hands and knees. How
    could I keep up? Woow-woow!—she’d
    come back how many times it took
    to get me out of thicket
    to show me by leaping in the air
    what we were looking for, couldn’t
    I see it? in the dark aiming
    my flashlight, silly handler, so slow
    to believe. Woow-woow!
    What did it mean? Not the wail
    of an outbound train; but welcoming;
    not lonely at all, welling
    from the senses a dog swims in
    beyond my depths. Vision in the dark,
    a bit of ESP, untranslatable
    pure dog joy.

  25. beale.alexis says:

    “Just Hear Me Out”

    I have two days
    to figure out the right way to ask you –
    without coming off too strong.
    But I’ve always been bad at serious conversation.
    It makes me anxious
    and my words don’t come out
    the way I want them to.
    I’m sorry,
    the past few times I’ve tried
    to express my feelings for you,
    it didn’t end well.
    That’s why I’m so nervous
    and antsy to ask you
    something so basic
    that really shouldn’t be that big of a deal
    but it is, because it’s you
    and it’s me
    and we’ve been down this road many times before.
    So please,
    don’t overreact or get uncomfortable
    I think I’ve got that covered for the both of us.
    Just sit there and listen:
    You are my best friend
    I truly mean that.
    I’m sure I’ll have offers,
    but when I look back
    ten years from now,
    I don’t want to remember them.
    I want to remember you
    on this night
    and be able to say
    that I was with my best friend.
    And it was special because
    we shared this bond.
    I’ve known you
    since the beginning of my high school career.
    I’ve had people fade in and out of my life,
    but you’ve remained
    despite how shaky our relationship is
    I know I can always count on you.
    So let me count on you one more time.
    Okay?
    Would that be okay?
    Not too much of a burden.
    Again, this isn’t supposed to be a big deal,
    so let me just say it:

    Prom?

  26. Jane Shlensky says:

    Extremes

    He doesn’t show emotion
    like his dad and grand-dad too.
    The world awash with tears
    or joys, they will stand firm
    as crucifixions, bearing up.

    He’s not a belly-laugher,
    does not rage or quake.
    Extremes lead to poor choices,
    he attests, as if he knows.
    He’s steady, silent, smiles.

    He wouldn’t know excitement
    if it hovered like a zeppelin
    in his sky or dropped a check
    for millions in his hand. Excess.
    He’s keeps his counsel, circumspect.

    When others leap with joy, pump
    their fists and shriek aloud,
    he shakes his head embarrassed
    at the show, for nothing could
    cause him to take on so.

    Emotionally mute, he wonders how
    such joy must feel, and if it’s safe.
    He’s slightly envious—he wants his day.
    She fills his coffee cup, meets his eyes,
    and he can’t wait. He just wants her
    to stay.

  27. De Jackson says:

    Butterflies

    If she opens her mouth,
    they might just fly out,
    all flibbertigibbets with
    phrase, and flight.

    Hold on to her knees,
    and you might feel the
    bees she’s got swarming
    through her veins.

    Bating breath,
    she’s twitchily de
    -bating:

    Are they new?

    Or have they been here all
    along, caterpillars in
                         waiting?

    .

  28. writinglife16 says:

    Simmer

    I know she’s the one, but
    she’s off limits.
    Underage.
    She knows it too.
    She smiles.
    I nod.
    We go to opposite corners of the ballroom.
    People and years between us.
    Our awareness simmers.

    The dancing begins and then
    toasts are made.
    Cake is eaten.
    The crowd begins to thin.
    I look for her and see that
    she is leaving.
    She turns and looks for me.
    I smile.
    She nods.
    The feeling percolates.
    I know our time will come.

  29. Michelle Hed says:

    I Walk With Fidgets

    Liquid excitement
    runs through her veins
    causing ceaseless grins,
    buoyancy in every step
    and the inexplicable need
    to be in motion.

  30. veronica_gurlie says:

    a short rhyme poem with slant rhymes.

    LOVE

    I’m trapped in a wreck,
    and chained to my breaths,
    I wait for it, in debate,
    it begins to get late,
    and when I see its face,
    and it’s not a mistake,
    I rush in to kiss it,
    like it’s how I can escape.

  31. Michelle Hed says:

    Wow! Love your poem today Robert!

  32. docrobb says:

    “Taking a Half Day”

    I was excited
    to leave work early
    with my love to be united.

    I opened the door
    to realize my fear:
    her packed bag sat on the floor.

    “I’m leaving you,” she said,
    full of remorse and resolve,
    “My love for you is dead.”

    Now I stay at work
    and not our empty home
    where the ghost of my excitement lurks.

  33. Nancy Posey says:

    Zeal

    Why can’t I keep it close to the vest,
    reining in my enthusiasm, curtailing
    the zeal? Instead, I’m as easy to read
    as a tail-wagging dog, fairly bouncing
    in my seat, all adrenaline and caffeine.

    What I like best is whatever I’m doing
    right now—this song, this book,
    this particular work-in-progress.
    Tomorrow—I’ll like something new.
    If you don’t mind the wagging
    at least you won’t hear any growls.

  34. barbara_y says:

    Nerves

    I’m sitting on crickets.
    Popcorn mice cavort on my stomach;
    my heart is pinging bats.
    Waiting has me on wasps.
    Excitement: isn’t pleasant.

  35. lina says:

    if

    if i ever see you again
    behind the printer
    or shaking a rug on the porch
    or carrying a sign up Beacon Street
    or riding your bike
    on the bridge over the river,
    do not expect me to speak
    or look you in the eyes
    or stop shaking.

  36. Hannah says:

    This poem is about the Grackles that have been arriving here now…very exciting!!

    http://wordrustling.wordpress.com/2014/03/26/two-by-two/

    Thank you for your prompt and poem Robert…love where it brought you!

    Smiles to all!

  37. priyajane says:

    I’m Excited!!

    The day unfolds
    its golden sheet
    under light blue covers
    and ruffled dreams,
    and I can’t wait
    To savor in its
    kettle fresh,
    chirpy
    and minty caffeine!!!

  38. lionetravail says:

    “Coupling to My Ground State”

    I am pumped and energized,
    brought to excitement
    by impulses I cannot control.

    It takes a while to happen,
    building slowly, slowly,
    over just fractions of a second.

    Finally, when I can no longer hold back,
    I burst forth with tightly controlled abandon,
    more coherent than my thoughts.

    I feel Light,
    Amplified and Stimulated,
    by the Emission of Radiation
    from my excited state.

  39. jasonlmartin says:

    Mosh

    The air drums are dusty.
    The spandex is musty.
    I took out my earring
    and sacrificed my hearing
    so long ago.

    Yet here I am,
    in the mosh pit of a memory.
    Neck sore, headbands twirl.
    I know who I am now. I am forty.
    Still caught up with a concert girl,

    spandex legs, leather jacket-wearing
    girl, who I imagine still has my earring
    I placed in her palm as we danced, smoke
    separated us, like the cassettes and 8-tracks
    of long ago.

  40. Excited

    E nergized, doing a happy dance
    eXtremely performing a joyful prance
    C harged and motivated
    I nspired, stimulated
    T alking rapidly, chuckles, giggles
    E lectrified, consumed in wriggles
    D aring adventure anticipated

  41. veronica_gurlie says:

    ON THE RIDE

    Up and down we go,
    and deep inside grows our fears,
    Why do we do it, I do not know.

    When it climbs, our hearts beat slow,
    we close our eyes and just take care,
    then up and down we go.

    It makes us move, to and fro,
    we hear old metal cranking near,
    why do we do it, I do not know.

    The people look so small below,
    it scares me so, and I shed a tear,
    as up and down we go.

    It’s better than playing in the snow,
    and if it may kill us, and make us swear,
    then why do we do it, I do not know.

    Our bones fly forward in a hard free throw,
    we can’t get off, we can not steer,
    up and down we go.

    • veronica_gurlie says:

      slight edit. changed “fears” to “fear”

      ON THE RIDE

      Up and down we go,
      and deep inside grows a fear,
      Why do we do it, I do not know.

      When it climbs, our hearts beat slow,
      we close our eyes and just take care,
      then up and down we go.

      It makes us move, to and fro,
      we hear old metal cranking near,
      why do we do it, I do not know.

      The people look so small below,
      it scares me so, and I shed a tear,
      as up and down we go.

      It’s better than playing in the snow,
      and if it may kill us, and make us swear,
      then why do we do it, I do not know.

      Our bones fly forward in a hard free throw,
      we can’t get off, we can not steer,
      up and down we go.

      • PressOn says:

        I think this is exceptional; the repeated “up and down we go” convey the roller coaster (which I presume this is about) effectively. For me, anyway.

        • veronica_gurlie says:

          wow. Thank you. Yes it was about a roller coaster. the up and down happening constantly now on them, is the reason why I don’t ride them anymore. LOL. the poetry form of the poem and the triolet poetry form is what I came to love writing in:0). Thank you for taking time to read my poem. I look forward to more of your feedback.

      • Clae says:

        reminds me why I’ve never liked roller coaster, and also why others enjoy them. I enjoyed the poem, though.

        • veronica_gurlie says:

          Here is the poem again. PLEASE READ THIS ONE:0). I didn’t notice til I read it on here again. that my last line did not copy and paste. it is not the final write that is in my manuscript. I also post the final one in my manuscript. I thought it copied and pasted but it didn’t. My last lines is missing. Thank you for reading my poem:0)

          ON THE RIDE

          Up and down we go,
          and deep inside grows our fears,
          Why do we do it, I do not know.

          When it climbs, our hearts beat slow,
          we close our eyes and just take care,
          then up and down we go.

          It makes us move, to and fro,
          we hear old metal cranking near,
          why do we do it, I do not know.

          The people look so small below,
          it scares me so, and I shed a tear,
          as up and down we go.

          It’s better than playing in the snow,
          and if it may kill us, and make us swear,
          then why do we do it, I do not know.

          Our bones fly forward in a hard free throw,
          we can’t get off, we can not steer,
          Up and down we go.
          Why do we do it, I do not know.

  42. JWLaviguer says:

    An Exercise in Bullshit

    In exile as an expat
    I was excited to excel
    at expounding on the exactness
    of the excellent expandable excrement.

    Joe Laviguer

  43. lionetravail says:

    “Heroes of the Republic”

    The men and women I know go beyond:
    beyond the strength of their arms,
    beyond the fierceness of their spirits,
    beyond the endurance of most.

    They clash in dark places
    where we fear to tread.
    Called, they answered, and continue to answer
    the needs of their nation.

    They serve with pride and distinction.
    And with excitement!
    Volunteers with the fortitude
    to stand in the breach,
    and throw back those agents
    of slaughter, chaos, and death
    who raven for our throats and souls.

    I have seen them stand tall,
    baptized by the blood of our history,
    and never falter in body or spirit.

    They go to battle because they are called
    by the soaring of their hearts.
    Because they see life as greater than what it is,
    and larger than what they can hold in clenched fists.

    These men and women I know I call ‘friends’,
    but they are more than that.
    They do not see their own limits,
    so they are bound by no limits.
    My friends are true heroes.

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