Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 393

For today’s prompt, write a pieces poem. For instance, you could write about picking up the pieces (after a broken relationship), putting together puzzle pieces, eating Reese’s Pieces; or pay tribute to this Janis Joplin song. Piece your poem together however works best for you.


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Here’s my attempt at a Pieces Poem:


a word here & line break
there & perhaps a simile
thrown in like a square

peg in a diamond-shaped
hole or even a metaphor
flying across an ocean

in the sky & then i say
what you’ve tried to piece
together from one source

& then another before
throwing your hands
in the air like you just

don’t care


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). Sometimes his poems come out whole; other times, he has to piece them together.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


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194 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 393

  1. taylor graham


    Northeast of the harbor,
    in shadow of the lighthouse, lived
    the widow. Already the stuff
    of storybook in the village – who and
    what had she been, before? What
    was her life now
    on that last-stand point of rocky
    headland? Did she
    have a childhood full of fairytale
    like some girls? or was it
    misspent, that she repents it now?
    You might see her
    walking above the breakers
    where surf beats itself to pieces.
    She’s alone of course,
    under her sky full of seabirds.

  2. taylor graham


    He was at the front
    but the war was almost over,
    didn’t see much action except
    in the dark once
    a kind of Morse light-flicker
    between their line and the enemy.
    They sent out scouts.
    Mostly he doesn’t remember his
    buddies except those three
    close friends, musicians with war-
    issue rifles. Still
    on flag holidays he runs down
    on his ATV – couldn’t walk
    that far anymore – to raise the stars
    and stripes. For days
    ahead of time he worries
    he’ll forget. He woke up in the
    dark, awake as he could be,
    in a flurry to find those
    old military records of persons
    now deceased, he thinks
    there were four of them, he has to
    send those records off
    tomorrow. What were their
    names? That flicker in the dark
    was just a firefly. He remembers.

  3. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    by juanita lewison-snyder

    has this way of digging in for the long haul,
    little souvenirs clinging to flesh like an unwanted houseguest
    bidding its time, clearing out your frig
    taking the keys to your car without permission
    then returning, proud of all the dings and scratches.

    if the shrapnel is on the inside, it is far more insidious.
    it builds cities of scar tissue in which to war guerilla tactics,
    ambush and sabotage, harass and raid
    advance, retreat, advance, retreat
    until your blood begins to seep and harden like lava,

    trauma waiting for the kill shot another day.

    © 2017 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder


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