Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 295

For this week’s prompt, write a free poem. Think free parking or a free space (in a board game). Think fat free, care free, or stone free (for all the Jimi Hendrix fans out there). Or think words with free in them, a la Freedom of Information Act. You’re free to take it in any free-wheeling direction you wish.

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Here’s my attempt at a Free Poem:

“freeze”

tag was a silly game we played
when we were young. running
around until someone tagged you
to make you freeze. but maybe

hide & seek was sillier. or just
tag, because the same kid always
ended up being IT and unable
to catch the others. & then

regardless, we just liked to run
& hide & jump fences & eventually
hear the call, ollie ollie oxenfree,
which meant figuring out what’s next.

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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 used to play tag with the best of ’em.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.

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182 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 295

  1. taylor graham

    THE OPPOSITE OF ENTROPY

    is Loki. Free energy.
    She arrived with crash of meteor. Fearsome
    Puppy philosophy: meet-greet-with-teeth.
    Delicate touch
    of enamel against wrist, her sign of affection.
    Your unyielding policy: No teeth on skin!

    She continued up the cuff of your sleeve:
    No teeth on fabric!
    At last, a dog-human compromise:
    you toss ice cubes, she’s the quickest
    catch. Ice-shards sparkle scatter-
    stars on kitchen floor. She loves you.

  2. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Yoke
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    I hereby release you
    from my feminine wiles,
    the pouty lips
    come hither looks,
    the powerful curves in all the right places.

    I herein discharge you
    from my indulgence and whims
    ropes and leather reins
    lacy ribbed corsets
    prerogatives in all the wrong places.

    I herewith grant you clemency
    from my calloused heart
    amused libido,
    wolf in sheep’s clothing
    ruthless paramour with all the right moves.

    I henceforth commute your sentence
    of confinement and servitude
    depraved adoration
    enshrined pain
    masochist with all the wrong moves.

    Hereafter, you shall be free
    to roam streets with wild abandon
    reckless latitude
    uninhibited misery
    broken prey to my grief.

    Look me up when the thirst
    for me hits again and you’re ready
    to play your hand against the yoke
    even though you know
    the house always wins.

    © 2015 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  3. walcottisabel

    Wʜᴀᴛ ғʀᴀɴᴄɪs ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ I’ᴀᴍ ᴀʟᴀʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ɢᴇᴛ ᴘᴀɪᴅ $6991 ɪɴ 4 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴᴇᴛ . sᴇᴇ ɪᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ
    ………….. w­ww.Moneykin.C­o­­m

  4. Cameron Steele

    Bar Talk

    Elbow to elbow to elbow
    didn’t know each other,
    didn’t need to, felt his throat
    in my words, her tongue
    rounding my sentences,
    though we were skinny things
    in the thickness of bad whiskey,
    the plastic stirrers in make-believe
    crystal. I could feel our
    bodies knocking against ice
    and carbonation, I could feel
    their hip bones and wet mouths,
    the hope of staying fizzy forever,
    of feeling strong in the morning,
    the leftover shimmer of new
    friendship and newness everywhere
    in this ugly, no-good city, our chairs
    rowed out like baby ducks from a book,
    my throat slick with film, but they got it
    all, they held my bones hungover
    in their own threefold ribs.

  5. De Jackson

    This Poem is Free

    of prejudice and personification,
    pride and all superfluous pulchritude.

    This poem has shed its outer skin
    and delved within its
    -self. This poem has shelved
    all masks and all safe middle-ground
    claims, staked itself to
    shifting sand. This poem

    has landed on tip-toes
    and supposed itself spilled,
    willed for nothing but the space

    it takes. This poem won’t catch
    any breaks, win any contests
    or friends or new
    bends in this endless twisted
    road to nowhere, but it might
    remind you to pluck
    a daisy
    along the way. Free

    your hands, splay
    them to a waiting sky,
    join the fray of song
    that scatters by; you’ll find
             (yourself)
    there is nothing quite
    as free
    as
    this
    poem
    is.

    .

  6. De Jackson

    This Poem is Free

    of prejudice and personification,
    pride and all superfluous pulchritude.

    This poem has shed its outer skin
    and delved within its
    -self. This poem has shelved
    all masks and all safe middle-ground
    claims, staked itself to
    shifting sand. This poem

    has landed on tip-toes
    and supposed itself spilled,
    willed for nothing but the space

    it takes. This poem won’t catch
    any breaks, win any contests
    or friends or new
    bends in this endless twisted
    road to nowhere, but it might
    remind you to pluck
    a daisy
    along the way. Free

    your hands, splay
    them to a waiting sky,
    join the fray of song
    that scatters by; you’ll find
              (yourself)
    there is nothing quite
    as free
    as
    this
    poem
    is.

    .

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