Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 327

For today’s poetry prompt, write a watching the world go by poem. Whether watching from the window, a park bench, or a couch, perspective is one part of this prompt; the other is what one sees and thinks about it.

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Here’s my attempt at a Watching the World Go By Poem:

“Central Park”

Just a few minutes walk from the bright lights
of Broadway and Times Square, a short cab ride
from the wheeling and dealing of the stock
exchange, I watch children swing from playground
equipment as adults read books or talk
diets and relationships. Runners run
circles around us all and lovers stroll
near the lake or the zoo, and I can’t help
but consider the lives that have passed and
lives yet to pass, the meanings–so fleeting–
and where will I eventually end up.


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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340 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 327

  1. taylor graham


    Our old venue, the gallery upstairs,
    is locked. So here we sit, the oyster bar.
    Two men walked in and left the door ajar.
    A brisk wind’s good for poetry. The chairs
    are cold. A sparrow skims the ceiling lamp
    to play its part as muse on wings, as scamp

    of song. The lightbulb flutters its small amp
    of inspiration. Dylan Thomas waits
    unopened as we meditate on Yeats,
    the spiraling of history and time;
    that girl who left her car-keys to the Fates
    at the next table with a wink sublime.
    O swinging door of life and poetry,
    this oyster bar where every word is free.

  2. taylor graham


    Over coffee he’d say he had no time
    nor world enough to try each option, yet
    kept cancelling his chances, the slow climb
    uphill; breaking intentions like bad debt
    and deconstructing oaths he’d soon forget –
    he’d get the best of them by wit or whim.
    And now the fates have deconstructed him.

  3. browdd22


    I sever myself from the cascading gaze of the moonlit window
    It shifts and shelters eyes of judgment on my mind
    Today’s nightmarish happenings
    Leave me yearning for the trappings of the following sun
    The crescent entity beaming in the sky
    Seemingly endless
    For an eternal torrential downpour of misery
    From my inner musings
    Extends itself to the scenery opposite this glass
    This glass that curves and twists
    Envelopes and endows
    And defines my beautiful abode
    Prisoner of my own personal heaven
    Awaiting the uncertainty of tomorrow

  4. taylor graham


    The night’s an invitation to changes –
    masks, illusion and surprise.
    I watched the mechanic’s kid head off
    as mummy wrapped in junkyard seatbelts;
    his sister guised as dogcatcher
    with her canny friend in tow, Jack Russell
    in terrier costume. They’re on a vector
    to the homes of the mighty rich,
    hoping to bag some banker’s treats.
    But the real fun’s in imagining
    witches, ghosts and spooks, the tricks.

  5. SarahLeaSales


    From the windows of my soul,
    I watch the world go by—
    my eyelids like shutters
    that close during a storm,
    blocking out all the unpleasantness.

    I check out at the supermarket,
    the cashier sneaking glances at her cell
    as if it’s a secret lover,
    while the bagboy tries to decipher the clock—
    the kind with hands that move
    rather than numbers that blink.

    I hand the check to the cashier
    who squints at my neat script
    as if it’s scrawl on a prescription,
    and I leave the store,
    having not uttered a word.

    It was at Granddad’s funeral
    that an old acquaintance showed up,
    and stood right by me.
    His name was engraved on my brain,
    embedded in the wrinkles of my cerebrum—
    a labyrinth of memories and knowledge.

    When they came looking for me.
    it was as if I was invisible,
    as if I was less than glass.
    It was as if I had never even been there.
    Forty-three people,
    mourning my friend,
    and I, in black against the snow,
    was like a lump of coal.

    Though I tread with a slow gait,
    through this valley of flickering screens,
    it is like I am on fast forward,
    for I am but a blur who disappears.
    My presence is felt the same
    as my absence.

    I create my first account to stay relevant.
    I search for a friend,
    I articulate a thought,
    the keys tapping like shoes on the sidewalks
    of the information superhighway.
    I am heard by someone far away,
    but I know if I was there,
    I would disappear again
    because whatever is going on elsewhere,
    is always more exciting than what is going on here,
    no matter where here is.

    I saw you the other day.
    I had friended you,
    and you looked right through me.
    It was the first time we had met,
    and when I unfriended you,
    it was as if it had all never happened.

  6. Poet Ariel

    Been doing so much posting lately that I think I missed sharing this one ..

    Watching the World Go By

    My window is small, sitting in my hand
    and I watch the thought bubbles float down and off the stage
    luminescent and linked
    Fraternal twins and strangers
    I watch them all day
    some I may reach out too,
    squeeze their hand
    Pat their head.
    Two people greeting each other in the rain,
    A nod, a brief exchange
    And then off to our separate destinations.
    It’s okay, this quick bouncing off each other;
    I’m here, you’re there
    But in this tiny frame
    We exist in each other’s pockets.

    Oct 15, 2015

  7. strandedmoon

    Watch it go

    I remember snowy nights
    In my ordinary hometown
    Gloomy days and gutter lights
    Of the drifter’s memoirs

    Walked alone in scarf and borrow
    People’s warmth and traces of honor
    That snowflakes melted away
    Of today and of tomorrow

    Cold in answers, chill in smiles
    Snow was beautiful for cover
    Of the Solitude’s in cold
    That embraced the human’s soul

    Strangers wander in the marathon
    Of routines and take a prom
    With the masks and mardi grass
    On the bogus flakes of snow

    That I love, but watch it go.

  8. grcran

    take it in

    take in the world parade together with
    a grain of salt. worth it? i take the fifth.
    mirth minutes YouAndMe that’s worth the weight
    in gold on other hand an acrid fate
    anachronisms watch out-dated clocks
    we mind our p’s and q’s take off our socks
    relax we take our time pleasantly planned
    take in the great big world you’ll find it grand

    by gpr crane

  9. grcran

    past the watching

    and she played the viola
    the triolet was there
    he read. he baked her bread
    with poppy seeds drug test beware
    without or with their window
    outside strolls by, peers in
    beside herself she’s writing hard words
    pour from felt-tip pen
    the world watches their progress
    the polls prognosticate
    they pass the others by
    midst hue and cry for twist of fate
    ed said onlookers well-played they told themselves
    not counting to a dozen ne-
    ver dwelling on the twelves
    been put here for two reasons
    unknown but not unsound
    perhaps to live to love in truth
    triolet verbed and nouned
    they broke the bread together
    each other’s fears they quelled
    and as the ending credits rolled
    viola music swelled

    by gpr crane

  10. SheepCarrot

    Passive No More

    As time went by, I’d sit,
    And wait…
    For what?
    For “life” to start—too scared to act alone.
    Timid and shy
    Did only what they thought right.
    My Peace lost,
    just out of reach.
    Dreams tucked away,
    Fear of failure
    kept me muzzled for too long
    Bound by their expectations.
    Uncomfortable in a world not mine.

    A deep breath.

    I cross that line.
    Stretch a little farther—
    Grab what I want, despite
    The Judgement.
    Disapproval shines in their eyes,
    Radiates into my soul
    Burning my heart.
    Questions on why—
    can’t they see?
    be happy?
    Too long I waited, but
    No More.
    Take back what’s mine:
    My Life

  11. Just.a.guy

    In the early morning

    An early Autumn morn
    I stand in the window
    The leaves are my brothers
    That the wind blows away

    A forest of the trees
    Two million there abouts
    Each individual
    Asleep beneath a spread
    A blanket warm and safe

    And I await the dead
    The coming of another
    A coming of no other
    And await but another
    Word that can not be said

  12. charmuse


    For a tourist walking a map
    believing in a destination
    maze of cobblestone lures and traps
    for a tourist walking a map
    short film of masks, tassels, glass wraps
    into kaleidoscopic friction
    for a tourist walking a map
    believing in a destination

    ~ Charise Hoge

  13. Doakley

    My grandfather’s world

    I remember my grandfather
    in his library styled oak rocker,
    with the beige, cracked,
    padded, leather seat,
    draped with a patchwork quilt
    hand sewn by my grandmother,
    made up of dark gray squares
    with an occasional red
    or white one sprinkled in.
    The quilt’s tattered corners
    trailed on the rough concrete floor.

    My grandfather sat by the hour
    in front of the coal burning
    furnace, his private spittoon,
    the door stands open,
    flames dance
    on red hot embers,
    he recalls his younger days,
    all he had seen and done,
    the memories parade
    through his mind,
    as he relives them once again.


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