Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 346

For today’s prompt, write a coordinated poem. Coordination could refer to keeping your balance, but it can also be a coordinated event. Sports teams have coordinators; complicated processes require coordination; and even poems have to coordinate words, line breaks, and stanzas.


Recreating_Poetry_Revise_PoemsRe-create Your Poetry!

Revision doesn’t have to be a chore–something that should be done after the excitement of composing the first draft. Rather, it’s an extension of the creation process!

In the 48-minute tutorial video Re-creating Poetry: How to Revise Poems, poets will be inspired with several ways to re-create their poems with the help of seven revision filters that they can turn to again and again.

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Here’s my attempt at a Coordinated Poem:

“x’s & o’s”

as a child
i saw the x’s & o’s
on chalkboards
as coaches traced lines
here & there
& explained strategies
but all i wanted to know
was when
would i get the ball
& what
should i do with it
when i got it


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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179 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 346

  1. Tracy Davidson


    was something I always lacked
    using roller skates
    or stilts, skateboards, pogo sticks…
    the bruised buttocks of childhood

  2. ewdupler

    New Recruits

    Unkept… Disarray… Personal residuals
    No goals… Such a mess… Many individuals

    Watch close… Pipe down… Listen to a leader
    Fall in… Start left… Get your act together

    Lean back… Settle in… Steady step, steady
    No self… One group… A single unit, ready

  3. grcran

    constellation coordinates

    when pagans puzzled out the equinox
    observing sun stars planets interact
    hence stonehenge pyramids huge hulking rocks
    for shadow solstices and astral fact
    these looming human feats sans modern tools
    show brains so far beyond neanderthal
    with learn-ed scholars not taught in bad schools
    nor products found in fancy shopping malls
    they dialed in longest day as well as night
    divided them by half and half agains
    set mayday halloween groundhog’s first light
    look at them large illuminate your lens
    well may we pay respect to people passed
    with their and our knowledge we may well last

    by gpr crane

  4. Arash

    Protecting Pain

    by Arash

    Her wrinkled ground of psyche bears
    the throbbing spoor of savage wills

    She seeks to gather fearless strength
    and build from hate a bed of spikes

    It’s not the light but shades she wears
    reposing on protecting pain

    Her skin was charred and she was shamed
    for all and naught and for her weight

    She sighs as though an offshore wind
    and arches faced with faceless void

    She loathes herself as storm the breeze
    and dies at sea as squalls abate

    So fear and hate coordinate
    in a harrowing harmony

  5. Jane Shlensky

    Easter Prayer
    a sonnet

    Dear God, make me a conduit, a straw,
    a pipeline, a transceiver for your words,
    a lightning rod, translator, steeped in awe
    at katydids and carrots, wind and birds.

    Triangulate for me what is your will.
    Coordinate what you would have me be.
    Focus my vision that I may fulfill
    your work of humble service set in me.

    Use me so well that I know I am used.
    Speak, write, labor—embody all I am
    and when I’m lost, unkind, blind, and confused,
    transform me from your tiger to your lamb.

    All flesh ephemeral is made to end.
    Yet use me, Lord, as you see fit. Amen.

    1. seingraham

      Oh Jane, this is glorious! Made even this agnostic tear up …Puts me in mind of, I think it’s St Francis of Assisi’s, “Lord, Make Me an Instrument of Thy Peace” … which also brings me to tears. Very beautifully penned.

  6. grcran

    saved by the son

    by some strange twist his son’s right wrist is coordinated
    his dad the boomer had late late bloom way more belated
    acted the fool fell in the pool got chlorinated
    cleaned up for years then went in arrears so bored & jaded
    wrote this on small paper you’ll think him a japer… oh lord he ate it
    his son came back restored dad’s lack. should be ordinated

    by gpr crane

      1. Thedeb

        Beautiful , so much imagery and emotion in so few words !
        You know I admire your writing Pam, and btw thanks for reading mine 🙂 I always appreciate the input

        1. ppfautsch24

          Deb, thank you, that means so much to me, as I admire your poems and have learned much from being able to submit and read such talented poets.

  7. grcran


    if & when we move to some remote location
    afterthought we may oh well become
    mayo bacon lettuce fry a green tomato
    let us live in peace and not get numb
    growing greens and greedy for each new tomorrow
    borrow nothing everything to gain
    reign of sunshine veil of rain coordinated
    weatherdance we turn our giggle sane
    cogently we handle us perceive the fearful
    keeping to ourselves then reaching out
    save the baby turtles hurtle happy tearful
    join the joyous song symphonic shout

    by gpr crane

  8. Connie Peters

    Coordinated by His Grace

    With crystal clear determined will
    The girl resolved to seek that place
    The trickle of her faith that day
    Coordinated by His grace

    She yearned to overcome someday
    The scars she wore upon her face
    The white raised up on tender skin
    Coordinated by His grace

    They pierced His side with grievous pain
    The story told through time and space
    The kiss of love and righteousness
    Coordinated by His grace

    She knows the joy abundant now
    Her pain but lingers with a trace
    His lush forgiveness conquers all
    Coordinated by His grace

  9. Thedeb

    Winter’s breath steals away
    with the crumbling remnants
    of vibrant colors
    that once decorated the tree.
    But nature coordinates
    the reprieve of life
    and empty branches
    are soon covered
    with specks of green
    that will blossom
    into the supple leaves of spring.

  10. ReathaThomasOakley

    Looking ahead

    I’ve been assured, almost promised, that
    new knees will help the twisted spine,
    now heavy with all that metal, achieve some
    semblance of normalcy, improve unsteady gait.
    So am I foolish to hope, that after mechanical
    insertions and adjustments, I’ll perhaps be
    rewarded with a bit of coordination,
    might even be able, finally, to dance?

    1. Doakley

      Dancing with Reatha

      Your new knees will
      turn out fine,
      and coordinate with your
      repaired spine.
      and when I hold you
      if by chance,
      you feel the moment
      that we may dance,
      and if you don’t
      it’s all right, you see,
      because you are always
      perfect to me.

      1. ReathaThomasOakley

        My dear Don, thank you for ending your poetry hiatus with this one for me. Thank you for past, and promised, support, and for that cup of coffee every morning. Love you.

  11. seingraham


    He couldn’t put the pegs in the holes
    his mother said, and he just didn’t seem
    to be ‘there’, you know?
    Yes, we did know, we had noticed
    but tried not to, in the way that people
    who care about you try not to see such things
    for as long as possible
    Knowing all the while, it would be kinder
    to be saying something, but don’t.

    Now – now, she had to deal with it full on –
    the baby was diagnosed on the spectrum;
    a mild case, but still they all knew, the mother’s
    heart was aching; how could it be otherwise?
    It seemed impossible – to the mother – to
    others – to all of them
    This bright baby boy – always so bubbly …
    So quick to do everything; walk, talk,

    As if his mechanism was sprung, he began
    to slow down
    He moved slower, began to babble less, wouldn’t
    meet anyone’s eyes – including his parents
    And, this child who had fed himself early;
    suddenly couldn’t bring a cookie to his mouth,
    even after repeated tries.
    Did his hand-eye coordination just evaporate?
    They guessed they were all about to find out.

  12. lsteadly

    We Dance Out Back

    behind the house
    a tango with the wheelbarrow
    your feet, my hands
    passing logs from wood pile
    to shed, a hoedown where I
    pull and drop and then you stack
    a song that plays inside my head
    to match the meter of the sparrow
    a bolero we’ve perfected
    our eyes reflected
    in the clouds and bare boughs
    brown to blue, earth to sky
    to fly and gather
    the seeds of our souls blown
    in by the wind chimes

  13. SarahLeaSales

    The Coordinates of Jess and Kate

    Jess and Kate McNally,
    both living the Dream they did not share.

    Every day, he’d wake up to ham on toast
    wrapped in a napkin in the microwave
    with a note that said,
    “Have a good day. Love you, K.”

    Though she never forgot him in the morning,
    she thought little of him in the afternoon,
    so busy being productive—
    “not merely busy”—
    as she liked to say.

    Ryan and Paige would be on their way to school,
    in her shiny, candy-apple red Mini Coop,
    and he would enjoy a few hours of solitude,
    watching infotainment and luxuriating in a cup of “Average Joe”,
    as Kate called it.
    (Fourbucks was her thing.)
    Then he’d be on his way to work his split,
    so he would be there for the kids when they got home.

    The evenings would come,
    and they would cross paths;
    she would be coming home to
    help the children with their homework,
    while he was going to work overtime—
    a means without an end.

    The kids needed them,
    but Jess and Kate had their own lives—
    lives that scarcely intersected.

    Sometimes he would open up her strawberry shampoo,
    just to remember what she smelled like,
    for she was always asleep when he got home—
    a stack of open books in a tower on the nightstand,
    an empty glass,
    hinting of Chardonnay,
    beside it.

    She would be laying on her stomach,
    her chestnut hair covering most of her face,
    and with one finger, he would draw back that silken curtain,
    as if to peek at the sunshine behind it,
    but the windows to her soul were shuttered
    with lashes like fans.

    He would gaze at her in the soft lamplight,
    trying to remember the exact amber of her eyes,
    and would often find himself going to her profile picture,
    just to remember.

    Late in the night, he would find himself scrolling down her wall,
    learning about the promotion she had forgotten to tell him about,
    or the latest memory of their children he was not there to share.

    He would think about taking time off,
    but they were building up their future, Kate would say,
    by paying for their pasts.

    He couldn’t remember when they began to have their own lives,
    no longer sharing, no longer building something great together,
    like that Lowe’s commercial,
    but just fitting into each other’s schedules,
    becoming strangers.

    And it was when Elise Carpenter came to work alongside him,
    so like it once was with Kate,
    that he left early to find that which seemed lost and unfamiliar.

    When he saw her at work,
    in her element of gray suits and high heels,
    made-up like a corporate wife,
    he realized he didn’t know her anymore,
    until she saw him and smiled.

    The man beside her didn’t look happy,
    but she went to him, giving him a hug, and said,
    eyes shining wide open,
    “Have I ever told you how much I’ve missed you?”.

  14. seamuscorleone


    We go together like orange and
    Like puzzle pieces from different puzzles
    Like a ballerina in clown shoes.

    You are orange:
    Mimosas and sunshine.

    I am green like grass that’s been
    Or the tree that fell on your house.

    If you were a puzzle you’d be one of those
    3-d puzzles like the one we built naked in
    The hotel in Prague when we ran out of money
    And clothes but still had plenty of love left, at least a
    Quarter tank.

    I’d be one of those puzzles that are all sky
    All differing shades of blue with nothing
    To tell you where each piece should fit
    I don’t even know where they go myself.

    You move with grace and poise and have
    Very strong thighs, dancer’s thighs.
    I have chicken thighs and sometimes
    Sometimes I trip even on my
    Own two feet
    I certainly tripped over yours.

    1. MikeGill

      I love the contrasts here. The opening similes are awesome juxtapositions while being so very revealing of what you are trying to say in the comparisons.

  15. MikeGill

    I found two haiku in my mind this morning.


    Spring’s full moon rest on
    purple mountain’s majesty—
    inky plains turn rose


    Sunflower heads turn
    unified, raising faces to the sun;
    days pass slowly by

  16. De Jackson

    North by Northwest

    The cooperation of our wings
    allows the coronation of all
    this blue – recuperation at its
    finest hue, crowned in sifted
    sunlight, to the core.

    We don’t know the numbers,
    coordinates lost in translation.
    We only know true north, the
    coordination of our souls with
    sky and lake-shimmered moon.

    Too soon, we head home to
    corporations and cessation of
    gentle spill, watch the counties
    click backwards against our will:
    Washoe, Lyon, Mineral, Esmeralda,
    (time draweth) Nye,

    And hark,
    we’re (un-Tahoed)


  17. PressOn


    The speed with which he ran led scouts
    to salivation,
    and at the camp his throwing made
    a huge sensation,
    and when he hit a ball, none found
    its destination.
    But nothing added up: he lacked

    1. PressOn

      Hmmmm…. sloppy rhyming there. I’ll try:


      The speed with which he ran led scouts
      to salivation,
      and at the camp his throwing made
      a huge sensation,
      and when he hit a ball, he got
      a reputation.
      But nothing added up: he lacked

      1. grcran

        i do like them both, but the second one better… and am not agreeing with your own assessment of sloppy rhyming… au contraire, your rhyming is fantastic… and great work in exploration of the “coordinated”

      2. seingraham

        I really like the way you’ve shown your process of revisioning (is that even a word?) … it’s amazing what reading aloud and a bit of tweaking will do … Funny how in the end, it doesn’t matter how fast or accurate you are – if you’re not co-ordinated, you’re sunk.(An aside – a publisher I met some years ago, Marth Rhodes, the founder of Four Ways Books, likened revising to changing the diaper on a really dirty baby – she grinned and said, “You know what that means, right?” Of course.)

  18. Nancy Posey

    A day late…

    School Picture Day

    The sixth grade girls get off the bus
    wearing their hair in updos,
    and they slip into the restroom
    to apply lipstick—strictly forbidden
    by their moms. The tags were clipped
    this morning from the new outfits
    bought at the mall for the occasion.
    Hairbows match tops and skirts.

    Most of the boys failed to show
    their parents the note about pictures.
    Atlanta Braves t-shirts worn
    by fifth graders are outnumbered
    by Spiderman or Transformers
    in second and third. Even those
    kindergarteners carefully dressed
    and groomed by parents before
    leaving home stand at the sink
    and spike their hair, combed smooth
    when they left the house.

    Notes sent home a week before
    suggesting solid primary colors,
    nothing too bold or busy to detract
    from the childrens’ smiling faces
    or the fake bookshelf background,
    remain crumpled in the bottom
    of a hundred Star Trek book bags.

  19. Connie Peters


    C orresponding to one another in an
    O rganized harmonious fashion.
    O pen to direction and synchronized in fluidity.
    R epetition, agreement, mutual outcome.
    D irected and managed by a wise leader
    I n step with each other and
    N obly working together, magnanimous,
    A nd graceful. Splendidly in rhythm and in
    T ime with each other. Energetic,
    E ffective, and matched up to
    D ivinely bring together individuals as a whole.

  20. Jerry Walraven

    Don’t doubt the Science

    Photons give
    bound electrons
    energy to jump
    (and dance)
    and lower resistance
    allowing this switch
    to switch
    and so the streetlamp
    clicks off
    announcing the coming
    of morning
    no matter how gray

  21. PKP


    conjured grandeur
    single simple point
    set in intersected
    space -I-speck in
    sparked in attitude
    Irrelevant -for each
    and all – for the fini

  22. Sara McNulty

    Fashion on Fifth

    Stiletos and handbag,
    black snakeskin

    Dress and lips
    call out, Coral Sin

    Black pearls wrap neck,
    and dangle from ears

    She is confident
    has no fears

    Quite a catch,
    say moms of peers

    pushing sons
    in her direction.

    Alas, they’ll never
    pass inspection.

    They call her
    The Coordinator

  23. candy

    color coordinated

    I tried to color coordinate
    this poem with the weather
    I wrote pale pink sunrise words
    I wrote white cloudy words
    that blew across the page
    and sunny yellow words
    that sparkled like gems
    when the sun hid I wrote
    gray rainy words that fell
    in puddles at my feet
    I wrote red sky at night
    words until black
    covered the page
    I tried to color coordinate
    this poem with the weather
    but it’s Spring
    and nature couldn’t decide
    which color to wear today

    1. seingraham

      And as we say out here in western Canada, wait five minutes and the weather will be altogether different – much like the end of your poem … you’d be having to start all over again. Good poem Candy.

  24. Beverly Deirocini


    Springboard and spotlight.
    Toe pointed in the air
    One foot in front of the other
    As ligament and bone conspire.
    Four inches wide
    Balance is survival.

    But life isn’t sixteen & a half feet in length,
    Nor a minute & a half long.

    1. seingraham

      Indeed. But, if you can be this disciplined – don’t you think it’s good training for whatever else life throws at you? We have a niece who went pretty far in gymnastics and I was in awe at her dedication – and all for that tiny bit of time. Nice poem.

  25. Walter J Wojtanik

    42˚ 48’ 44.5428” N Latitude
    78˚ 49’ 51.7332” W Longitude

    A pinpoint on the map,
    forever my favorite place.
    I wouldn’t want to visit,
    but a nice place to live.
    Memories of journeys there
    give me great joy.
    I was just a boy, but I knew
    there was no place like it!
    Living there,
    giving there,
    loving there was the ultimate,
    I miss those coordinates.
    In part, they’ll stay in my heart.
    Just a house to some,
    but to me it was always home.

    1. seingraham

      Hmm – I was trying to figure out roughly where this is and then, being from Toronto originally – and across the lake (the wrong lake, of course, but still) – and remembering where your home is … I got it – you’re right. There is no place like home, no matter where that it. Nice, Walt.

  26. Cynthia Page

    Odd One Out

    When I arrived to stand in line
    the line moved away from me.
    When I sat down at the lunch table
    kids stood up and left with full trays.
    Neither team captain wanted me.
    They competed to leave me out.
    When assignments were given
    nothing was assigned to me.
    Never called when I raised my hand,
    and angry looks when I spoke.
    In classes where they worked together
    no one saw me to let me join in.
    Ignored, tuned out, shoved aside
    left to be a team unto myself.
    making it up as I went along
    with results ignored by all
    Even teachers forgot my name
    surprised during roll call
    by this stray name
    on a list they knew well.
    But never forgotten by the principle
    when someone had to pay the price
    for not playing well with others.
    Being the odd person means
    nobody makes a pair with you.
    Alone means Cindy.

    1. seingraham

      Oh, Cindy – this is filled with so much pain and loneliness – as others are saying, you write beautifully; I hope you can let your crappy childhood experiences go sometime. No one should have to go through what you did …

      1. Cynthia Page

        Thank you, but I am not alone in this experience. So many children become the odd one out. It happens in every school, in every city and town, every semester, every year. I am just expressing what so many others experience, not just myself. But thank you for your heartening words.

  27. taylor graham


    Imagine the intricate maneuverings,
    the balance of bodies – wings for the moment
    useless – as the two of them, ladybug and
    her gentleman-bug, red-robed with their clan’s
    ancestral black insignia (don’t call it polka-
    dots!), perform their prehistoric dance,
    joined together on a trefoil leaf of blackberry
    bramble almost lost in spring green, then
    moving still in unison up a neighboring stalk
    and onto a finger-leaf of lupine, all
    in the service of perpetuation of species
    through the ages, the future of ladybugs.

  28. PowerUnit

    Coordination kills the moment
    Floodgates have no dials or knobs
    Lust has no electronic control room
    Love has no emergency shutoff valve

    You can’t make a planned attack to hold hands
    You can’t plot a course to the inside of a thigh
    There are to playbooks for under-table footsies
    Inspiration is not packaged with anticipation

    Yet when balloons pop and fizzy drinks bubble over
    Grab the life and hold it
    Nature it
    Massage it
    Shape it
    Coordination retains the moment

  29. KM


    Do you remember, our senior year, how we’d
    show up once a week in the same outfit?
    Even when I tried to mix it up — wear my jean jacket
    over the red scoop-necked tee, instead of my favorite
    stretched out R.E.M. shirt — you’d break into
    your sister’s closet and arrive in denim over red, too.
    Serendipity or proof of our limited wardrobes.
    Our friends teased us, said we planned it.
    Our Japanese teacher, patted both our heads at once
    and said we were working toward wa, harmony within
    a group. Maybe by the end of the semester
    our whole class would be at peace.
    After that I begged my Mom to take me shopping,
    somewhere different. Old lady stores, or vintage.
    I didn’t want to be anyone’s replica, not even yours.

    Years later, at your wedding, I stood beside
    three women in the same green taffeta dress.
    Tallest to shortest, our bodies angled just so,
    framing you in your lacy white gown.
    You were stunning and starry over a man
    I didn’t much like, but he treated you well.
    Surely does, still.

    Once, over steaming mochas, you spilled
    highlights of the amazing third date.
    Roses. Thai food. Talking until dawn and then
    he sang you a song. I almost laughed, but
    then I heard the crow in your voice.
    “We match,” you said.
    My eyes snapped to your black sweater,
    then down to my plaid shirt.
    With a whoosh, I exhaled,
    so relieved to realize you meant
    him, and not me.

    – Kim Mannix

    1. Nancy Posey

      I just love this one. My college roommate and I had this happen so many times–even when we dressed at our own homes hours away and drove back to campus. I love the way the narrative unfolds–and the bridesmaids’ dress detail.

  30. Stuart Peacock

    Balancing Act

    It must be my bleary eyes
    And my ever-shaking hands
    That cause balance to elude me
    And fall over and over again.

    So many stand upright
    Where I always stumble,
    Those co-ordinated chaps
    Who have clocked it all.

    A clumsy one I may be,
    But my intent is inside
    This bumbling old body
    That tries its hardest.

    So allow me to stop a second,
    After the spins and shakes,
    And common sense may conquer
    This creaky coating of mine.

  31. Connie Peters


    “Way to go, Grace,”
    my cousin would often say
    as I teetered crossing a creek
    on a log, landing knee deep in icy water.
    Or slipping through the limbs of a pine,
    looking like I had done battle with a cat.
    Or stepping on her toes or stumbling on stones
    as we danced the polka waiting for the school bus.
    Coordination wasn’t the mark of my childhood,
    but I sure had fun.

  32. Anthony94

    On the 391

    Unseen hands are setting fence, white
    tipped green t-posts interspersed with
    peeled cedar, alternating every three feet.

    Like some line drawing against blue sky, these
    glistening strands wrap acreage surveyed with
    engineered precision, coupled with the knowledge

    of corner angles, the coordinate planes of line
    and post, the tensioning of cross braces, and the
    three-foot depth of set that yet marches evenly

    across the rugged terrain. Soon, the heavy
    hided Angus will push against the open
    wall to test the greening grass on the far

    side of the ditch rise, and salt licks will be
    put down and the pond dredged against the
    summer drought. The gray barn will settle

    farther into the prairie, board by board and
    the owls will slide to the side of the hayloft.
    Fencing pliers and stretchers will be hung in

    the new barn across the road, against the first
    popped section; riding the line taking precedence
    over that quick sense of pride in a job well done.

    1. seingraham

      Oh – this appeals to me on so many levels, Anthony.

      My husband (retired now) is a survey-engineer, so to read:

      “these glistening strands wrap acreage surveyed with
      engineered precision, coupled with the knowledge

      of corner angles, the coordinate planes of line
      and post, the tensioning of cross braces, and the
      three-foot depth of set that yet marches evenly” etc. –

      thrills me to no end. After witnessing his four and half decades in the field (working and later teaching) – I became immersed in his love of the land, and his obsession to make sure it is surveyed properly (legally, and tied to existing monuments that go back to Roman times in some instances) as well. It amazes me when I realize how many poets and other writers have connections to surveying – Whitman, Thoreau, and I think Frost – to name a few.

      Thanks for sharing your lovely poem. As KM says, the imagery is just brilliant.

  33. taylor graham

    Will work on a new poem. But I can’t resist posting this one, from my new book just out: Uplift (

    How She Does It

    My dog leaps boulder to boulder,
    perfect balance, not thinking where
    she puts her feet. Nose to the wind,
    she factors slant of sun
    and shadow, updraft, eddy, convection
    off hot granite, bacterial action
    on particles of scent –
    the missing boy passed
    this way. She performs tightrope
    math in midair, works out fluid-dynamics,
    meteorology, the smell of DNA.
    I’m lost in her
    universe of real-life hide-and-seek;
    I can only trust, and try to follow.
    How does she do it? Instinct
    to pursue, over any obstacle, one
    unique scent in all the world of humans –
    answer to an equation
    no computer has yet solved.
    One lost child.

    1. seingraham

      Yes – congrats on the new book Taylor. This is a wonderful poem. And as someone else has mentioned – have you read “Fifteen Dogs”? I think it was the Booker prize winner last year, but in any case – it’s a fascinating take on what might happen should some dogs be given some unusual traits.

  34. Walter J Wojtanik


    B7: HIT
    Shots over the bow,
    you know this would happen.
    You prepare to counter.

    G3: MISS
    You have no luck in guessing,
    and it’s messing with your psyche.
    You’ve already appear to have lost

    B8: HIT
    your submarine and your carrier.
    It would be scarier if it was for keeps.
    You’ll end up in the briny deep

    F9: MISS
    if this course stays true.
    It’s up to you to figure out
    where your points have clout.

    B9: HIT
    You’re running out of moves.
    your groove just isn’t keeping you
    on track. Every attack falls flat!

    H2: HIT
    You throw your arms skyward.
    Finally a hit! this is it, your comeback.
    You have a plan, no shooting from the hip!

    B6: HIT
    You have a fit,
    you let your expletives slip.
    You’ve sunk my Battleship!

    1. KM

      This is great! Even if I wasn’t a Battleship fan, I’d dig it. “your submarine and your carrier./ It would be scarier if it was for keeps./ You’ll end up in the briny deep” is my favorite part!


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