Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 433

Before we get into today’s fun poem prompt, I just want to remind everyone of the upcoming 11th annual April PAD Challenge, which starts on Sunday (coincidentally Easter Sunday and April Fool’s Day). If you’ve participated in the past, you know what to do. If not, here are the guidelines (but it’s pretty much like Wednesday Poetry Prompts–only every single day of the month).

For today’s prompt, write a fun poem. See? I said it would be a fun poem prompt today. At times, it’s easy to write about sad topics, serious topics, lovey-dovey topics, etc. But for today’s prompt, I’d like to see poems that are about having fun, involve something fun, or are just plain fun. I guess that can change from person to person, but whatever your definition of fun is be sure to write that poem today.


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Here’s my attempt at a Fun Poem:

“the stinky palindrome”

mom added xylo- to -phone
& brother added an -s
dad was stuck with only vowels
little sister tried her best

until she spelled the word poop
causing us all to babble
about appropriate words
to use while playing scrabble


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He loves to play Scrabble with his family.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


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121 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 433

  1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    AMC Pacer
    (pacemaker, moonbuggy, greenhouse, glassmobile)

    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Maroon 70’s funk poster child of good intentions gone awry,
    leaked like a sieve, but you could still see out pretty good
    surrounded by hot terrarium glass in true Jetson-style novelty.

    Heavy saggy doors with cheap pot metal handles that repeatedly
    broke off in your hands, the “little fishbowl on wheels”
    that would later help to inspire the popular bubble Porsche 928.

    Despite lousy gas mileage and a cheap interior that cracked and split,
    for two high school girls it was wheels, and wheels meant freedom,
    and the perpetual lure of the open road.

    We logged in appearances at many a righteous party
    during those formative years, my girlfriends and I
    (Barbie-speak for hundreds of thousands of miles, FYI).

    Sometimes we’d pretend it was Mike Myers’ sweet ride in the
    pop-cult classic, “Wayne’s World,” making “folkloricly cool” history
    (Hollywood speak for “Laugh. Cry. Hurl.”)

    Who’d have predicted America’s belovedly pregnant roller-skate
    would become the great antithesis to collectible car show lexicons
    Mustang, Camaro, and Vette, in spite of its top 10 all-time worst list.

    Yeah, party on, Wayne.
    Party on, Garth.

    © 2018 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  2. Jane Shlensky

    ‘Til Daddy Takes the T-bird Away

    I’ve got the car; you’ve got the excuse.
    The fun’s not far from here; we’re loose.
    The music’s loud; we sing along.
    There’s not a cloud on our horizon.

    The boys all flirt; the laughter flows.
    We dance alert to how time goes.
    We can’t stay long if our story holds.
    Life is a song ‘til our lie unfolds.

    We’re punished, sure; party time is done.
    But there ain’t no cure for our having fun.

  3. Jane Shlensky

    Joie de Vivre

    If it makes a sound,
    play it
    If the word’s profound,
    say it
    If the music swells,
    sing it
    If it shows and tells,
    bring it
    If it moves your feet,
    dance it
    If it’s good to eat,
    chance it
    If it makes you laugh,
    love it
    If you scorn it as chaff,
    shove it.

  4. thunk2much


    I watch my dog Gonzo
    roll in mud and grass,
    wolf down pine straw, wood and more,
    chase squirrels up trees,
    steal my towel from the rack
    and roll some more, in between
    bites of stolen sock of course,
    and I realize just how little
    or how much it might take
    to live a life that full,
    if I could only grow fur
    and leap into four legs and a tail.

  5. thunk2much

    $10,000 question

    What is it that I do for fun?
    The ten thousand dollar question.
    I feel I’ve only just begun…
    What is it that I do for fun?
    I play with dogs, I read, I pun –
    but is that fun or decompression?
    What is it that I do for fun?
    The ten thousand dollar question.

  6. LCaramanna


    Mimosa sun burst upon the horizon,
    bubbled over the sugar-coated rim,
    diamond sparkled the crystal sky
    as effervescence tickled my fancy.
    That twinkle in your eyes
    illuminated your intentions
    clearly, the fun had just begun!

    Lorraine Caramanna

  7. Piddleville

    Mostly I’d Rather Be Me

    I’d rather be clever than pointlessly dumb,
    I’d rather go forward than back where I’m from,
    I’d rather have too much than not even some,
    But mostly I’d rather be me.

    Better a dummy than wise like the crowd,
    Feet on firm ground beats a head in a cloud,
    Humility’s nicer than being too proud,
    But mostly it’s best being me.

    Love’s always better than a canker of hate,
    Off to the side routs the stiffness of straight,
    And right now will always beat having to wait,
    But mostly it’s best being me.

    I can’t always choose how I will be,
    Conditions imposed from without bugger me,
    Bouncing my bottom like waves on the sea,
    And keep me from just being me.

    I’d rather keep going than go back again,
    I prefer being healthy than sick and in pain,
    And I’d rather be charming than to complain,
    But mostly I’d rather be me.


  8. seingraham


    The sky is dripping grey
    And the sun’s hidden away
    But then baby girl smiles
    Her first one ever
    What is it about a baby’s
    smile that makes everyone
    else’s face crack open too?
    And we’re all just itching
    for that first giggle…

  9. Tracy Davidson

    Fun Tanka

    Cyndi Lauper’s right
    girls do just wanna have fun
    whatever their age…
    my hundred-year-old grandma
    sticks notes in the stripper’s crotch

  10. Anyapadyam

    Au contraire

    When spring has sprung
    I take to my winter sports
    Tubing and Tobogganing
    Sound fun only as words

    Spiraling down the ice
    Frigidly set below zero
    While I won’t chicken out
    I surely ain’t no hero

  11. Anyapadyam

    Happy is what happy does

    A sparkle from my chuckle
    I carry with me all day
    A little bit of silly, willy-nilly
    Though from pranks, I keep away

    Unbridled laughter, from the belly
    This feeling never goes away
    A smile playing on my lips
    Is how I like to end my day

  12. Connie Peters

    Grocery Store Haunting

    My daddy liked his Klondike bars.
    My mama liked her pies.
    And I like almost every sweet,
    but ends upon my thighs.

    So, when I shop I try my best
    To buy those healthy foods.
    Fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and milk,
    My list always includes.

    But odd things happen on some days.
    It’s true, I cross my heart.
    Some Klondike bars mischievously
    Will sneak into my cart.

    On, other days I’m being good
    But pies will jump in, too.
    And all of this may sound farfetched,
    But I tell you it’s true.

    When I go home with all my treats
    And hubby asks me why.
    Then I explain that Mom, though dead,
    She does still like her pie.

    And Daddy loves his ice cream bars,
    The Klondike ones the most.
    But hubby never quite believes
    I shop with both their ghosts.

      1. seingraham

        I love both this poem and your comment, Jane – do you remember Nancy’s poem at Tasteful Beans (is that the name of Scott’s place, I hope?). I just recall her drawl on that poem about an anniversary that had no definitive gift for that year so she decided it would be paaawwweye – I do not do her southern drawl justice but I do recollect it well.

  13. Jrentler

    se*ting in aesops fables

    i did
    as he

    painting you
    all hare
    & tear

    & he
    shy, shelled

    we win together
    plus your dick pic

    i tongued
    your haha
    all the way home
    like gristle on a highway’s

    like muscle gods
    on barrow

  14. Jrentler

    sexting in aesops fables

    i did
    as he

    painting you
    all hare
    & tear

    & he
    shy, shelled

    we win together
    plus your dick pic

    i tongued
    your haha
    all the way home
    like gristle on a highway’s

    like muscle gods
    on barrow

  15. Walter J Wojtanik

    Owed to Joy

    Euphoria abounds,
    can exuberance be far behind?
    Hearts swell with pleasure,
    a prize of destiny’s whim.
    A gift unexpectedly given,
    forming bubbles that rise
    like pockets of gas to explode
    into the atmosphere happily.
    You attribute pleasure to your
    being open to accept it.
    The strange dance you perform
    is a by-product of your gaseous state.
    What isn’t owed to joy, gets hung on fate.

  16. Walter J Wojtanik

    Outta Whack

    “He’s not quite right” she said,
    never knowing if her suspicions
    were correct, but what did she
    expect from a guy who gave her

    the evil eye. Oh sure, he called it flirting
    but he was skirting the issue.
    And she wasn’t really sure what to make
    of his attitude, since her gratitude

    was out of character for
    a character such as she.
    She took what she wanted
    and never took any crap.

    So this sorry sap had her pegged.
    He said, “She’s not quite right”.
    A match made in heaven, the future was bright
    for Mr. and Mrs. Not Quite Right!

  17. Kateland

    Egg Hunt 3-28-18

    Soon comes the spring morn
    Everyone off to church
    No child’s head hangs forlorn
    For dreams of brightly colored eggs
    The church bells churns out
    Rise, my children, and go out
    The sun is high and casts a bright
    All the colors to finders sight
    A basket full of Easter joys
    For every girl and every boy

  18. Sara McNulty

    Beach Breezes

    In a cabin on a hill
    overlooking glistening
    ocean, we were four friends
    at leisure. On arrival,
    the guys batted a ball
    around using two large
    umbrellas. I have the photo.

    We rented funny movies,
    drank more than a little
    wine. My girlfriend created
    a hanging man out of
    pipe cleaners. We placed him
    in the front window. Through
    that window we watched sun
    smile through daybreak,
    and sky burst into purple-red
    ripples at sundown.

    My girlfriend’s husband,
    infamous for whoops-ing
    his way through dropped
    glassware, wine spills,
    and other ills, poked noisily,
    and mercilessly at offended
    logs in the fireplace.
    We knew he was due for
    a mishap. The guys went
    out for groceries. Soon as
    they left, we smelled smoke.
    No joke. Mr. Whoops had dumped
    what he thought were cooled
    ashes into a plastic garbage
    can in the kitchen. Shazam!
    Fire rose and melted the can
    into a strange lumpy shape.
    We could not stop laughing.
    We laughed on the beach,
    in restaurants, and in that
    cabin on a hill, overlooking
    the beach.

  19. Not-Only But-Also Riley

    See This Free Sea

    On the beach, the world away from world, an isle,
    I’ll not remain idle, but be beckoned to the deep end,
    depends on how the waves take me, grab me and raise,
    rays of sun bombarding my face, and still I use my real eyes,
    realize the world for what it is, the sand that can heal,
    he’ll never understand what the beach does, how it frees,
    freeze this world and still I stay at this beach.

  20. lsteadly

    Ingredients For a Happy Marriage

    a little bit of whimsy
    a lotta bit of soul
    even more to add is silly
    enough to make you roll

    let’s not forget deep laughter
    or crazy wazy smiles
    cuz fun is what we’re after
    for true love to last awhile

  21. SarahLeaSales

    The (Dis)Ordered Pair

    When her husband hinted at sex on the beach,
    she said,
    “Not tonight. I have a headache from inequalities.”

    When he bought her an anniversary ring that looked like rose-colored glass,
    she asked,
    “And just what is the absolute value of this?”

    When he asked if she’d be willing to go on a double date with Bob Carroll and Ted Allys,
    she said,
    “I’m just not into polynomial relationships.”

    When they argued over his X-box playing and her mockumentary watching,
    she said,
    “We’re just the difference of two squares.”

    When he begged her to make his mother’s infamous kale and tofubarred casserole,
    she said,
    “I don’t know how to graph that.”

    When she mixed his gluten-free, cruelty-free mayo with her Miracle Whippet Good,
    she said,
    “I was just combining like terms.”

    When she got fed up and overfed with his lack of functionality,
    she said,
    “You just don’t pass the vertical line test.”

    But when she said,
    “Chocolate is greater than, and rarely equal to..,”
    he told her that she needed to take a break from algebra—
    that it was making his stomach hurt—
    to which she grinned and replied,
    “I think you might have a calculus.”

  22. Eileen S

    Three Ballerinas

    Let’s stretch out our arms and kick up our heels.
    All different, all the same, hands up, hands out.

    The music plays, everyone sways, we all jump, we all move.
    All different, all the same, arms up, arms out.

    Deep breaths, hearts pumping
    All different all the same, hands up, hands out.
    All together.

    As we sway to the music,
    healthy exercise gets our muscles working
    while oxygen clears our brains.
    All different, all the same, hands up, hands out.

    Collectively we contribute
    to each other’s emotional health.
    Arms up, arms out, reach out, touch each other.

    All different, all the same, hands up, hands out
    Arms up, arms out, reach out, touch each other.
    All different, all the same.
    Three ballerinas.

    1. tripoet

      You used your refrain very nicely in this poem. This poem would be nice coupled with a painting or photo and would slip into Ekphratics well. Nice work.

  23. Jason L. Martin

    Chicken Glasses

    I never knew it was a thing,
    and why would I, a city kid
    is all I have ever been? I slid
    my glasses up nose to bring
    the page in view to witness:
    An advertisement for glasses
    made to protect your chickens’
    eyeballs from others’ pecking.

    Which brings me to a point
    I want to make about birds.
    Why don’t they use their wings
    in such cases? There’s no point
    in wings without flight, but birds
    that cannot see shouldn’t use wings,
    except if my buddy was pecking
    my eyes, then boy I’d be trying.

  24. grcran

    fundamentals of the game

    funneled. one fantastic tricky
    fast fin-fingered fish.
    he cut the cards. he dealt
    them deftly. through the water. swish.
    he played the carps with skill.
    they’d thrill to see his scalloped shuffle.
    what fun for cardshark then
    to win, and eat them up. ker-puffle.

    gpr crane

  25. candy

    We Went To The Park

    We went to the park and I
    Watched the children playing
    Swinging high, higher
    Climbing and sliding
    With joyful abandon
    Running and chasing
    Riding imaginary horses
    Sailing imaginary ships
    And then a four-year old
    Voice called to me – “Come
    And play!”

  26. JRSimmang


    In truth, we’ve heard it all before,
    these English words can be a chore.
    Who can hear the difference between
    To, too, and two, or fore and four?

    Is it between or betwixt,
    Your, you’re, or yore? I’m fixed
    betwixt a rock and a hard place,
    and now I’m getting my metaphors mixed.

    If a desert is served haut, is it still just desserts?
    Is it hard to find a toilet while in continents foreign
    and exotic? And, now my rhyming’s disappeared,
    or perhaps it’s just that Iamb getting tired.

    Bomb and boom, tome and tomb,
    Zip, zap, and definitely a zoom,
    I’m lost in my words, a colloquial labyrinth,
    so, off I go to comb my nom de plume.

    -JR Simmang

  27. tripoet

    Jelly Beans

    Little and anticipating Easter
    Bunny. full house, children
    sleeping, visions of “jelly beans”
    in our baskets. Wait a minute,
    those are different children.
    At our house we hate
    jelly beans. See them
    as a mere basket filler. So
    when we woke it would go this way:
    Screams of delight for lovely chocolates
    and caramels and peep bunnies on a bed
    of jelly bean padding. (As previously
    mentioned we only tolerated
    the colorful jelly beans
    as “background candies”)
    treasure hunt, then scurrying
    into our parents’ room to
    “See!” our candy treasures.
    Confusion. Why do parents turn
    all senior on holidays? Sad,
    tired old people who
    only want to sleep
    in. We make a pact, sisters,
    brothers and I— to grow
    old a different way.
    An hour older the scene repeats
    itself with one difference. Screaming
    into our parents’ room minus the joy.
    We’ve been robbed!
    and so quickly. For our older brother,
    it was like taking candy from a baby with
    his six-year un-gap-able head start,
    to “win” all the delicious stuff
    while children’s man-handled,
    jellybeans overflow in our baskets.
    Waking the sleeping giants, turns
    out to be a good move for us: all candy
    confiscated, redistributed and by this time
    weathered jelly beans must have been as tired
    as our parents, but restored to their proper place
    sleepers in the bottom of our Easter baskets.

  28. Heather


    We drive by wonderland
    every second weekend,
    spying roller coasters,
    water slides,
    and gravity-defying rides.
    At three-and-a-half
    he’s too little to think of them
    as more than just interesting trains,
    and he’s nervous when his feet
    don’t touch the ground.
    But I can’t wait to show him,
    relive my youth with him
    hurtling through the air,
    wind whipping hair,
    and giggling at the effects
    of zero gravity.
    I wait longingly,
    anticipating a future
    day of fun with my son.

    ~ also published at heatherbutton[dot]com. Its a bit of an ode to the Canada’s Wonderland theme park, where I spent a few summers with season’s passes, dragging friends on all the roller coasters and many concerts.

  29. PKP

    Duck Duck Goose It

    there once was a lass from
    Nantucket – oh that is not
    going to work in this bucket
    of poets and poems and
    limericks and tomes that
    tickle the mind not the oh
    Duck it!

  30. Walter J Wojtanik


    A small band of Brits what writ
    a cavalcade of skits and silly things,
    sometimes men dressed as ladies in frilly things
    doing silly walks down Bourbon Street.
    Giant cartoon feet stepping to flatten
    bystanders as they meander aimlessly,
    shamelessly exposing their naughty parts,
    dressed as lumberjacks and tossing Spam
    at the troupe of Vikings wailing, no sailing
    today for the Camembert is a bit runny.
    Saying funny things to all named Bruce.
    (We’re all named Bruce!) Marching
    down the thoroughfare with galloping coconuts
    at the ready and a steady chant of “Ni, Ni, Ni”!
    Dead ex-parrots pining for the fiord!
    Bringing disorder to the French Quarter
    (nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition)
    as the locals taunt them a second time.
    Searching for the Grail without fail,
    silly twits, a band of Brits! Run Away!
    They don’t really like Spam! Spam! Spam! Spam!
    Australia, Australia, Australia, we love you!
    …And now for something completely different!

  31. Walter J Wojtanik


    I had a thought today.
    A thought that the world
    was playing a cruel and
    vicious joke. And I spoke
    this thought out loud
    and a crowd formed.
    En mass they cried,
    “We don’t get it!”
    neither did I!
    Guess it wasn’t that funny!

  32. Anthony94

    Bull Creek on a Wednesday

    We’ve off-loaded the garden tools
    for sharpening at the local lawn
    mower repair shed, shovels
    an odd assortment of trowels

    diggers, hedge trimmers all
    collected from years afield
    when we suddenly decide
    to take the Bull Creek Trail

    that meanders below the
    county ball fields, water
    making music out of
    yesterday’s rain, mud

    it’s an easy hike punctuated
    by the hammering of wood
    peckers above the one lane
    stone bridge, hand hewn

    limestone still holding back
    torrents, memories of wagons
    bound with grain heading west
    real fun begins when I find

    carpets of Virginia Waterleaf
    with its silvery lacework
    spread over serrated leaves
    on the spongy valleys between

    hickory and walnut. Happy now
    to be greeted by this surprise
    a species rarely found here
    except along forgotten banks

    I float with the notes of water
    music, fingering the green blanket
    as I tell the woodlands I’ll be back
    for more of my kind of fun.

  33. Daniel Paicopulos


    So many voices,
    so many choices.
    Where will it be?
    What shall we do?
    Will there be many?
    Will there be few?
    At the beach with a peach,
    or in the park with a lark,
    a twosome romantic,
    or a field trip pedantic?
    Potato salad, fruit salad (hugs),
    chicken salad, tofu salad (ughs).
    the kind mom made,
    or ice cold beer,
    like dad held dear.
    Hummus and crackers,
    or, better by far,
    black bean salsa,
    Texas Caviar.
    As for the games,
    there’s none that’s
    that’s a loss,
    from a three-legged race
    to a messy egg toss.
    There’s badminton, Frisbee,
    horseshoes as well,
    and the pie-eating winner
    will be easy to tell.
    Whatever the choices,
    just get out in the fun,
    and never forget,
    it’s supposed to be fun.

  34. taylor graham


    Imagine sailing off like Icarus
    before July melts the wax.

    But I was driving switchbacks,
    how could I admire the view?

    A turnout.
    Just a boot-tread from the edge.

    Earth so far below,
    I couldn’t see a thing about it.

    How about Cheese Camp?
    The name nagged me.

    I found it on the map, it must
    have a history,

    a meadowland of cows
    below wilderness of granite drop-offs;

    earth solid, homey under my boots;
    cellars dug into hillside, full of Swiss cheese.


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