Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 305

April update (for those interested): Poems are off with the screening readers.

For this week’s prompt, write a loss poem. If that doesn’t work for you, feel free to write a lost poem. Or write a lost poem filled with loss. Prompts are just sparks; the fire burns where it will.


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Here’s my attempt at a Loss Poem:


there’s no moon over kentucky tonight:

someone stole it
& left a note
that it won’t be coming back.


roberttwitterimageRobert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community, which means he maintains this blog, edits a couple Market Books (Poet’s Market and Writer’s Market), writes a poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine, leads online education, speaks around the country on publishing and poetry, and a lot of other fun writing-related stuff.

When he experiences loss, his first impulse is–as with most things–is usually to write. And he’s the author of Solving the World’s Problems.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


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552 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 305

  1. Bruce Niedt

    This is the second of my poems for this month on a theme, based on the “My…” poems that lead off Jane Hirshfield’s new book, The Beauty:

    My Loss

    is your gain.
    My hunger is your basket of bread
    on a red-and-white checkered tablecloth
    in an Italian restaurant.

    My forgetfulness
    is your championship on Jeopardy,
    nailing the final question on “World History”.

    My depression
    is your ticker-tape parade,
    as you wave to the crowd from a convertible.

    My sorrow
    is your touchdown
    and your end zone dance.

    My swinging strikeout
    is your no-hitter. My high fastball
    is your home run.

    My stumble
    is your dash to the finish line
    breaking the tape with your chest.

    And yet
    I’m not bitter
    that you left me so far behind.

    Because in your haste
    you never stopped to look
    for all the wonders that I found.

  2. Jenifer Tull-Gauger

    by Jenifer Tull-Gauger

    When you are lost,
    Floating helplessly through the solar system,
    Longing for your soulmate,
    Searching for unconditional love,
    Looking for that connection
    to another like you,

    Know that it is all an illusion,
    This beautiful phantom world,

    And you have always been connected
    To that which you sought.

    You just have to relax
    And allow yourself to be

  3. Kaulmer


    Like falling, but in the opposite direction.
    Empty handed grasping at your breath
    Sound carried away – out of your ears
    Hollowed, hollow, hollowing.
    Hovering helpless
    Heart heavy and

    – Krina Ulmer

  4. cator2306

    M leaves home

    I cup you like water
    Closing my fingers to keep you from trickling through
    But slowly you disappear

    I see you still,
    Your coloured wings on a fragile petal,
    Reach out my hand gently
    But you’ve fluttered away

    And I lift my head to follow your flight
    My eyes blinded by the sun

  5. stepstep


    the smile has fainted
    the pep in your step has diminished
    no more quicksilver agility.
    nimble, nimble, gone away
    gone until another day
    bearing fruit — no more.

    the environment is quick, yet you seem slow
    smoldering steps kept to linger,
    memory will eventually fade
    into the far distant night
    to cast away great feats without a fight
    to last longer, to perform better, and shed all strife.

    elasticity of muscles — softened
    memory partially vanished,
    one hundred percent, not quite there
    always conscious of what was,
    what used to be but no longer
    full speed ahead, just pushing along or
    making yourself, as always,
    do what you can.


  6. Thedeb

    Two hearts-almost one
    Encased within bone and flesh
    Fire burns in the night

    Two hearts-side by side
    Separated by bodies
    on fire with anger

    Two hearts all alone
    Dream of nights filled with passion
    The embers still burn

  7. Thedeb

    Fly away

    They’ll be leaving soon.
    The empty house forgotten.
    Fly away-fly home.

    We’ll watch the young fledge,
    strong wings will carry them far.
    Fly away-fly home.

    “Please return,” I cry.
    “Fill this empty space with song.”
    Fly away-fly home.

    “I’ll ready your rooms.
    Wishing your roost was longer.
    Don’t fly away-stay.”


  8. PeanuttyO

    Lost Enemy

    It is gone, missing, astray
    Round in circles I looked
    but it has vanished
    Consigned to oblivion

    Absent, not present, in the past
    Forgotten, dead, extinct; help!
    Don’t help it does not need
    to be recovered, reborn

    The anger is gone, I mislaid
    it intentionally and forgave
    I stand clutching happiness
    and walk away from the anger

  9. Caitix

    The Lie

    Hearing my son’s teacher lie
    Was a sinking moment
    Hearing words from his mouth
    Twist the truth
    Besmirch my son’s reputation
    Put a twist in my guts
    A frustration in my mind
    Of an eleven year old
    For He has no voice
    Over teachers authority
    Do I say more
    Do I temp the chef to spit
    In the soup
    I’m watching
    I’m supporting
    I’ll say nothing
    For the moment
    I can see through
    Now, so can my son
    A hurtful loss of faith

  10. Cynthia Page

    I Wish

    You enter your house, expecting
    to feel at home with your possessions,
    things you have collected for years.
    Those carefully chosen pieces of comfort,
    with memories invested in each of them.
    A shock goes through you like lightening
    when you find all those memories stolen.
    Sure, you only lost a television,
    a stereo, and jewelry. They took paintings,
    or the art deco vase bequeathed
    by your beloved grandfather.
    Worse than that – your peace of mind
    has been stolen, gone forever.
    I wish they had not stolen
    my list of passwords, or
    the bank account statements.
    I’ll always miss the jewelry I received
    at graduation – a family legacy.
    But worse, I’ll never feel safe again

    May 18, 2015

  11. estucker1998


    There the ghostly petal lay,
    upon the cracked cement floor.

    Its beauty leeched,
    its form withered,
    its soul lost,
    gone, beyond repair.

    The last petal
    Of the last rose
    Of the last whisper
    Of goodbye.

    And then he,
    like the periwinkle petal,
    was gone.


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