Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 321

I had a different prompt in mind for today, but how many times do you get to have a 3-2-1 prompt? (The answer is once.) Plus, it’ll be like three years until the numbers are counting down like this again. Sooo…

For today’s prompt, write a countdown poem. What are you counting down to? The start of a song, a shuttle launch, the weekend. I know that many are counting down to the complete list of April PAD Challenge winners, which is taking longer than expected and is my fault (and my fault alone). So sometimes countdowns are exciting; sometimes they’re exhausting; and there are times when they are scary and/or disappointing. Let’s count it off.


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Here’s my attempt at a Countdown Poem:


It is a lot easier to count up
than count down. Like when I often diet
(at least when I try it) and fill my cup
with water, I think of what food gets by,

and I count the calories in my mind
as my weight shifts slowly down (much too slow)
until I quit and eat all I can find,
which goes to my behind (where all food goes).

The problem is the patience in waiting,
I suppose, because I can see progress
when I eat but get bored when I’m sating
the needs of my body. I am a mess,

I know, but even so, I will try it:
Here goes one more (last) go on my diet.


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


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185 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 321

  1. taylor graham


    Got into a countdown stare-down.
    That old agate-eye ram who broadsided
    our old dog so his ribs ached for ages – the ram
    who stood guard at the fence against all
    neighbor-dogs when our own dog was asleep
    by the fire. Our old ram who figured the watch-
    dog job fell to the ram in charge. In charge
    he could skull-bludgeon a world of woe.
    I stared that old ram down for the count
    till I came to see it was better to let him do
    as he pleased.

  2. SarahLeaSales

    The Final Countdown

    I put down the pen.

    I pray to the Divine.

    My pupils dilate.

    I feel like hell in Heaven.

    The clock ticks.

    I’m wishing I wasn’t live.

    I look at the door.

    I want to flee.

    My heart beats a rapid tattoo.

    I walk up to the church stand,
    wipe the sweat off my hands,
    and give the talk from which I wanted to run.

  3. Thedeb


    Counting seconds
    Counting minutes
    …..but letting days slip away.

    You see, days are faster than minutes.

    Days fly like shooting stars,
    only to slip away
    … sand through open fingers.

  4. Thedeb

    Sent from my iPhone

    Begin forwarded message:

    In memory of Jeffrey and Chenzo, gone to soon. RIP boys.

    Sleepless Grief

    Counting minutes
    as the hours pass
    Respite please we pray

    Jumbled thoughts…
    young life lost
    to a twist of metal and glass

    Ripped from family and friends
    Ah, but sleep does profit from pain.
    Grief owns the weary.

    Youth though may be fleeting
    is never wasted on the young.

    They feel life,
    embrace it,
    carve it into the air we breathe.

    Why then can’t
    we catch that breath?
    The ache of the Dark space suffocates.

    That place is not ours yet,
    it cannot be harnessed.
    There will be no sleep tonight.


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