Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 289

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For today’s prompt, write a high poem. Now, I know the word “high” is a loaded one–so take it where you may. There are high temperatures, high heights, and other meanings related to high. You can even transform high into the greeting “hi,” which then leads down a whole new rabbit hole.

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Here’s my attempt at a High Poem:

“high wire”

balancing is the same at 3 inches
as it is at 3 feet or 3 stories. the trick

is thinking 3 stories is 3 inches.
when i let myself, i’m still scared

of the dark. a corner conceals
a burglar or poltergeist. nothing’s

different, but i let my mind wander.
falling from 3 stories is much

different than falling from 3 inches,
but balancing is the same.

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roberttwitterimageRobert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of the poetry collection, Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He edits Poet’s Market, Writer’s Market, and Guide to Self-Publishing, in addition to writing a free weekly WritersMarket.com newsletter and poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine.

He is not a fan of heights or the dark, though both are fine for other folks. That said, he does like to write late at night and on airplanes–maybe to channel the anxiety?

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.

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183 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 289

  1. taylor graham

    TREE-SHELTER HIGH

    In the deep of woods behind a remote-click
    neighborhood, my dog has led me under canopies
    of leaf and sky and shadow. She stops to sniff
    the base of an old snag cedar holding high
    its weathered candelabrum. Split trunk pocked
    with holes for acorns; on a bark ledge, mushroom-
    cap toothed and set aside. From a dark cavity,
    two neon eyes stare down. Iris-scan of wild –
    what creatures live here? I meant to find a pretend-
    missing girl. Is this my lost-child’s world?

  2. taylor graham

    AT LAST

    Today I’ll climb that shadow-hill
    above the meeting hall – its ease
    of gossip about good and ill.
    I’ll find what’s hidden in the trees

    above the main-street sale-&-bill.
    Above, the winter breeze is chill,
    and unknown pathways beg and tease
    to find what’s hidden in the trees.

    A child might build a lookout, fill
    its piney knots with sweet of bees
    and gaze at shooting stars that spill
    into what’s hidden in the trees.

    At last I’ll climb that shadow-hill
    and try a tree-house, rung and sill –
    I’ll climb with aging hands and knees
    to find what’s hidden in the trees.

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  4. shethra77

    High

    I’m high
    as stars flung ‘cross the sky
    as anything can fly
    I’m high
    Hey
    Hello moon
    I’ll see you pretty soon
    because I’m high

    Soon I
    will crash down
    back to earth
    clean as birth
    Not high

    Judgement
    always waits for me
    people who don’t see
    a reason why
    I should get
    high

    Maybe
    they are right
    maybe
    I should fight
    to stay down here
    keep my head clear
    fight pain exploding
    never floating
    away

    Hey
    Maybe sometime when
    I feel sunshine then
    I’ll go straight
    again

    Right now
    I feel too done in
    It may be a sin
    but I know I’m going
    to fly to the moon
    again

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