Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 375

For today’s prompt, write a reflection poem. This poem could be about a physical reflection (or lack of reflection if you’re talking vampires). But poems that deal with reflections as thoughts work too. In fact, any creative interpretation of reflection or reflective surfaces will be accepted.


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Here’s my attempt at a Reflection poem:

“Reflection on Reflections”

sometimes i neglect to reflect
on the good times that i have had

just as i neglect to reflect
on the bad times that i have had

& though some times have been real bad
& though some times have been real sad

i have had moments that weren’t bad
& other moments that weren’t sad

which is why it’s good to reflect
on times that were nearly perfect

& on times that were imperfect
because i find when i reflect

there’s less chance for me to neglect
the good & bad times i have had.


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). And no, he’s not sure about the poem he just wrote, but it was still fun to write.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


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69 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 375

  1. taylor graham


    Even in what seems the world’s biggest
    labyrinth – a city – my dog must be walked.
    Edge of major arterial 6-lane,
    rush hour motorists frazzled to pop an artery;
    official DO NOT signs, sirens, neon
    reflected in gutters, come-ons for a cheap
    massage. An old man holds out his hat for coins.
    My dog will not be disenchanted.
    She lifts her nose to sea stories on a westwind,
    chanty for a sail. And here, in a maze
    of concrete islands, she pirouettes “let’s go!”
    and I start out after her, again, in a new
    direction. With a dog, anything
    becomes adventure.

  2. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Looking back there are things I’d broker different,
    situations I’d picked black over white,
    folks I’d prefer been left at the wayside
    and maybe gone left instead of right.

    I would trade riches for a cache of new memories
    though bittersweet spent with you,
    a time before earth came to swallow her blossoms,
    a day before the Devil made due.

    It’s hindsight that strengthens and weakens
    a force that can rattle one’s cage,
    a reckoning that comes when you least expect it
    a fight that you cannot possibly wage.

    © 2016 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  3. qbit


    The bones in my back
    Creak and crack,
    To unfold into wings.
    Steam bent ribs
    Shivering themselves
    To splinters
    Broken for flight.

    The Angel of incidence
    Equals the Devil of refraction —
    An arrow
    Fletched with feathers of light
    Shattered against ugly
    As sin, physik
    Ricocheted outward
    Reflecting what is hunched

  4. taylor graham


    We weren’t going any farther that solstice night,
    huddled in mummy-bags off the roadside.
    You were soon asleep. I was left to hear a bell
    in dark distance. In older days or another land,
    I might have thought shepherd with his flock.
    It was cold enough for the wavy green glory
    of Northern Lights reflecting off dead chrome.
    Trellises of stars I climbed at last to midnight,
    dawning sleep. In time this would be legend.

  5. pudge72cws

    Toys 1

    I pick up the yellow Matchbox truck
    a scratched finish and broken

    a part of so many of our stories.

    This garage is dirty and dusty
    and your stories are changing;

    It is much harder for me
    to throw these away
    than you.

  6. Arash

    Story of Buck

    by Arash

    Up close he looked like a bereft cowboy
    Waiting his turn for some more campfire beans
    Except Buck was in an institution
    With hands on hips posing in line for pills.
    No rope nor gun, and not atop a horse,
    No cowboy boots neither donning a hat,
    Still Buck had been a true cowboy no less
    Who owned some sheep and cattle and a ranch
    Until that day when his reflection asked:
    Oh Buck must we eat flesh, must we not grass?
    So Buck let the ranch and the livestock go
    And grazed each day along with cows and sheep.
    But soon the land owners restrained our Buck
    Dragging him to the doctors, shackled, tied.
    These days you won’t see Buck out in the field,
    But here surrounded by the walls sans glass.
    Buck is at last snowed into sanity.

  7. PressOn


    When I think of the moon in the pond
    that’s enmeshed in the shade of a frond,
    I recall that its light
    shines with poses bedight
    and invites me to parse the beyond.

    1. ppfautsch24

      Reflections on the water; rippled waves of my life. Swept moments of mistakes, mishaps, and mistrust, swim through currents of the ages.
      But in the mist, the sun reflects the golden rays of life and I rest in the reflection beyond the deep insides of me.
      By Pamelap

  8. grcran

    Noel O Pan Napoleon

    (“able was I ere I saw elba”, the palindrome, is a reflection)
    (as is this poem)

    Napoleon reflected on his loss
    his boss his ego bigger than a whale
    they jailed him up on Elba where he cried
    not justified, I’m emperor, won’t fail
    he helped the folks on Elba organize
    revise revitalize the roads the farms
    his charms had Elbans help him get away
    hold sway again the French followed in swarms
    les cent jours built him, knocked him down once more
    met poorly Waterloo last battle lost
    then crossed the waves to Saint Helena where
    he dared reflect how history fires the frost

    (note: les cent jours is French for one hundred days… after Napoleon had conquered a large chunk of the world and ruled for 10 years, he was exiled to Elba… the poem descibes the period of exile and the following 100 days as he rose to power again, was defeated, and then was exiled to his death-place, Saint Helena Island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean)

    gpr crane

  9. headintheclouds87

    Deceptive Reflections

    I wake up and wonder
    ‘What am I doing here?’
    After a fitful half-slumber,
    An answer not readily clear.

    I rummage in my restless mind
    For any reason I can find
    But get lost in the past instead,
    Unearthing events best left behind.

    I reflect on forgotten days,
    But through a broken mirror
    That taints the memory’s gaze
    And convinces me I am inferior.

    I force myself to fight these cracks
    And recover the rational image
    That will set me back on track
    To find answers I can faintly envisage.

  10. uvr

    Stretching into the distance
    the grey of a foggy day
    seeps beneath
    the still lake
    blends into
    the horizon
    threatens to smudge
    the edges of life
    But the defiant sun
    reflects gold from the
    now shimmering waters
    burnishes the silver
    sliver of hope
    lining the clouds

  11. madeline40

    Mirror Images

    I never miss a chance
    To look in a mirror.
    I’m okay seeing my whole body
    Or just my face
    Because so far my figure
    Is still not so bad.
    Other women tell me
    They never look down past their necks.
    They cannot stand the sight
    Of what’s below.
    These reflections have a way
    Of confronting us with
    Both good and bad news
    Good for those beautiful youngsters
    I see at the gym,
    And super–bad for women seventy plus
    Like me who’d rather keep
    Their reflections to themselves.

  12. MikeGill

    It has been awhile since I posted; other pursuits have kept me away. Here is my attempt for this week’s prompt.

    What Lies Beneath

    Benny looked closely at the image
    In the mirror and tweaked
    His tie just a little so it
    Would be perfectly in the middle of the collar.

    He smoothed the knot and
    Adjusted the curve as it
    Exited, making sure the
    Pinch was centered and
    The tail end tucked behind.

    “It’s all about hiding the tail.”
    He told himself, hands sliding
    Down the tie, ensuring it
    Hid the buttons, tip just
    Touching the borrowed belt.

    He smoothed the front of the crisp
    Shirt as it slit into the neatly ironed
    Pants, pulling the extra fabric to
    A tight pleat on each side and
    Another along his spine.

    Next his fingers found the collar
    Sliding around, checking for
    Smooth and even, probing to
    See no tie showed behind and comparing
    It to hair line so nothing showed.

    He ran damp fingers through his hair to
    Smooth it and calm himself.
    He leaned close to check the erased
    Tear scar—the doctor’s skill and his
    Girl’s concealer doing their job.

    At last, Benny gently tugged each cuff
    Pulling down the sleeves to cover
    His sleeves—to mask what
    Remained of his past as he
    Made his way to a future.

    Stepping back, he hoped they wouldn’t see
    Beyond this reflection of who
    They wanted him to be.

  13. Sara McNulty

    Sitting, Reflecting

    I sit,
    on decisions made
    in my life, some impulsive and poor,
    others wise. There were adventures even with-
    in strange situations. I am glad to have memories I can look back
    on, and smile.

    1. PressOn

      This form, which looks like a combination of a fib and a Crapsey cinquain, fits this topic well, I think. It has a reflective quality in the way it springs back to “smile.”

  14. deringer1


    As a child I swam with my friends in a lake,
    a lake so clear we could see the sandy bottom
    and our faces reflected in the water.

    Now the reflection I see
    is only in a mirror into which
    I would rather not look.

  15. Anthony94


    All day running errands, the back
    and forth, highways, turnings, success
    and lack of. Biopsies, cancer conversations,
    the boys’ divorces, the unpredictability
    of now, the old lady’s anger at being
    placed in the assisted living facility at
    the young age of 88, her own dementia
    an unknown. The day is overcast by all
    this and clouds as well, evening coming
    down with the sameness of yesterday,
    the day before ahead of the snow. Air is
    dry, waiting, while in the creek, skim
    ice is as opaque as all that has preceded,
    so not even the crested jay has a reflection,
    nor the smilax torn loose from its moorings
    in the shagbark hickory, sailing down.

  16. PowerUnit

    Mirror, Mirror

    She can see him in the rear-view
    but can’t make out his face.
    His arms swing and his feet hurry.
    He is not a rascally image.

    He shifts into the side-mirror
    and zooms past.
    He does not turn his head to gaze
    does not slow to say hello.

    He fades into the distant
    past is behind her.
    She has no mirror to see ahead
    to view where he will stop.

    Life was easier without mirrors.
    You never had to watch your back.

  17. taylor graham


    An old wicker reindeer tilts as if to fall
    on its nose by the tiny-tot tricycle and a one-
    armed doll on the lawn. Ancient Christmas lights
    strung from gate to fencepost, over an ancient
    Ford up on blocks, a camper-shell, and –
    is that a wringer washer bearing a wreath?
    Along this uncurbed street behind Main, no one
    seems to believe in planned obsolescence.
    Dead appliances hold down the lawn
    lest it blow away in wind, or there might still
    be some reusable parts among the rust
    and frayed wiring. Do with what you’ve got,
    fix what you can, and bide the rest. At nightfall
    the string of lights turns on against our
    semi-rural dark, reflect bright glitter on a rain-
    puddle. It looks like Christmas without
    the extravagance shell. Where’s the pearl?
    If I stopped right here to listen, bet I’d hear
    somebody sing off-key “God rest ye
    merry” breaking into “Joy to the world.”

  18. Terri Miller


    My life has had
    many bumps along
    the road of life

    I look back and see
    were I lied

    I remember those
    that I loved and lost

    I cry for those that
    I miss the most

    I’m sorry for the
    mistakes of
    trusting the wrong

    Through it all
    I’ve learned

    Copyright © TMC 2016

  19. writinglife16

    Reflections of Life (or not)

    My neighbor and I
    had gotten into the habit of
    nightly reflections of our lives.

    It was literally
    the contrast between day and night,
    but with common themes.

    I worried about treating people well
    while he was concerned about not killing them.
    Flip sides of a similar coin.

    Our lives reflected each others
    even though I lived and he didn’t.
    My neighbor is a vampire.

  20. Connie Peters

    Here’s one from my daughter.

    Glass Darkly

    Seeing to the other side
    depends on the opaqueness
    of the structure in between.
    If it’s dark, gloomy, angry or sad,
    your view can be obscured,
    and the people on the other side
    are merely dancing shadows
    that you can’t understand or laugh with.
    But if the veil between is cleared
    with joy, peace and love,
    the shadows take on substance
    and you can dance together.
    –Lori P

  21. ReathaThomasOakley


    Each day with my mirror,
    and with paint
    and with lies, I hide
    my grandmother’s eyes.

    (I’ve shared this before, but it seemed appropriate for this prompt.)

  22. tripoet

    Today’s Reflections

    They tell me “I think too much”.
    My mind likes to wander
    out into the forest
    and view the thoughts
    forming in the morning dew.
    It’s even sweeter
    when I can pick them
    out of the air
    like catching a whiff
    of grandma’s sweet potato
    pudding that only
    she knows the recipe to.
    My family shouldn’t worry, though.
    My thoughts won’t keep me
    from them. Like engineers
    of a train they endeavor to bring
    me back safely to the station on time.

  23. SarahLeaSales

    Knee Deep

    The still waters of her soul rippled
    with the rock of unpredictability
    upon which she had built her life,
    her past, frozen,
    her future, melting
    with the heat that was her present.

    Waves like radio
    emanate from her reflection,
    silhouetted by the sun,
    and she,
    faceless as an Amish doll,
    drinks from the still waters of her soul.

    1. tripoet

      It is nice how you commented on everyone’s work. Thank you. I would have liked another line because the flow of your poem was so great, coming to water and then quicksand. I think one more image would have been beat BUT I really like what you accomplished in a few lines and it is clever.

  24. Beverly Deirocini

    I wish I could reflect
    The sun’s rays,
    That political lecture,
    Those words you said to my face,
    The ones behind her back.

    Instead, they become a part of me
    An eddy inside my soul
    Fogging up my eyes
    And taking a toll on my perception

    Of the world
    Of myself
    Of you
    Of life


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