Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 455

For today’s prompt, write a magic poem. The world is filled with magic for those who are open to seeing it. Sure, some of it is trickery and sleight of hand, but there’s also a magic to everyday moments and situations, certain notes in favorite songs, even mistakes that end up being so perfect that artists can only claim magic. I hope every poet can conjure up a bit of magic with this week’s prompt.


Build an Audience for Your Poetry tutorialBuild an Audience for Your Poetry!

Learn how to find more readers for your poetry with the Build an Audience for Your Poetry tutorial! In this 60-minute tutorial, poets will learn how to connect with more readers online, in person, and via publication.

Poets will learn the basic definition of a platform (and why it’s important), tools for cultivating a readership, how to define goals and set priorities, how to find readers without distracting from your writing, and more!

Click to continue.


Here’s my attempt at a Magic Poem:

“magic time”

while one hand snaps its fingers
the other grabs a coin from a pocket
before producing it “from thin air”

& many are moved but not you
because you know all my little tricks
& how i conjure empty incantations

no matter how many rabbits i pull
from hats & assistants i saw in half
the only magic that works is my time


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 had a proud dad moment over the weekend when his 9-year-old son organized and performed a magic show for the neighborhood families while raising money for hydrocephalus research.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.

You might also like:

  • No Related Posts

175 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 455

  1. SarahLeaSales

    Losing Sam

    No one ever died in the South—
    they simply passed away.
    Her son hadn’t been killed,
    but rather,
    she had lost him in an accident.
    When she wished him away from Heaven
    and back to Earth,
    it was only hope she experienced—
    the hem of his coat as he went out the door,
    the sound of his footsteps in the hall after a night out,
    the smell of Axe that lingered in his bedroom.
    In every sense but the physical,
    he was there,
    but the tragedy was that his memory
    lived on in the form of a shadow
    in which her daughter lived.

  2. MargoL

    A magic moment

    There are so many
    magic moments,
    that we so easily

    Like the tranquility found in
    the sound of a crackling fire.
    Or sitting on a beach,
    by the roaring waves of the ocean.

    Captivated by the singing
    of the birds,
    early in the morning,
    on a clear sunny day.

    A brisk walk in the woods,
    yoked together with nature,
    a magic moment in time
    escaping momentarily.

    I could go on to define
    what a magic moment is.
    However, we all encounter them.
    We just need to stop –

    Just for a moment, long enough
    to experience it’s magic.

    The magic of dreams

    Having dreams is a marvellous thing
    that rest in the soul
    and fuels our imagination
    as it unfolds like a scroll.

    Thus plunging us into a world
    of fantasy and vision,
    as our thoughts soar up high,
    captivating our dreams like a magician.

  3. Glory


    Bare earth, bare trees, hungry sky above,
    then Spring arrives, its kiss of love
    brings forth green of earth, and all things new
    like daffodils and tulips brightest hues.
    Then summer’s sun delights the eye
    with wondrous sights that bring a sigh
    as magic once more fills the air
    to let us know love’s everywhere

  4. grcran

    number into sound into word

    o nine two six a teen wrote firm and bold
    nine two six one ate more than he could hold
    bells tolled nine to six twenty eighteen after
    nine to six score twenty and eight in laughter
    thus this teen dwelt in nine twenty six heaven
    until midnight POOF it’s nine twenty seven

    gpr crane

  5. Troy DeFrates

    The Magical Heart (a Magic Nine Poem)

    So much love to give or forsake
    brutally wounded your heart continues to beat
    but does your heart ever heal for Heaven’s sake?
    There is magic inside that makes your heart swell
    continually giving what others would take
    the magic there knows no bounds
    an endless reserve never to break.
    To give love to those that do you wrong is no small feat
    be true to yourself, for the heart cannot fake.

  6. Troy DeFrates

    The Genie’s Lamp

    I rubbed the lamp gently for three wishes
    As if a tea kettle boiling it shook
    A Djinn did appear in a red cloaked swish

    Before you wish you must read from this book
    He produced a book the size of a calf
    Dropping it he gave me a sideways look

    You have a fortnight to read the first half
    Then I will be back to ponder your dreams
    As he twisted his goatee with a laugh

    There was something wrong, not as it should seem
    As he returned to his lamp in the smoke
    I studied day and night and in my dreams

    The table of contents contained a joke
    What you wish for will come from another
    Your wishes received will leave others broke

    I could not wish to steal from a brother
    I rubbed the lamp gently for three wishes
    I would wish for naught, no harm no bother
    A Djinn did appear in a red cloaked swish

  7. Walter J Wojtanik


    Greta and Hans Falberstraum
    your genial hostess and host,
    welcomes you to the Witching Hour,
    the hot spot with the most.

    Grab a table, name your poison,
    they’ll whip up your favorite brew,
    inside a steaming cauldron, it
    will cast its spell on you.

    Their menu has new items,
    so take your time, peruse!
    Their pastries, breads and cocktails
    will aid your self-abuse.

    Try the “Grave Turnovers”
    they’ll have you doing that,
    and “Half-dead Bread” will keep you fed,
    with only half the fat.

    They have “Legosi Lager”,
    it has a nasty bite,
    toss a few right down your throat,
    you’ll be howling through the night.

    Here’s something for the ladies,
    “Man-eater Martinis” for you,
    you can get it with a sandwich,
    just don’t bite more than you can chew!

    There’s the “Wolfman” and “Hair O’ the Dog”,
    both to fix what ails you,
    the “Eye of Newt and Toe of Frog”,
    the soup that never fails you.

    And don’t forget the kiddies,
    their fare, they will be lovin’,
    feeling the heat in every treat
    from the “Hansel and Gretel” oven.

    The Falberstraums are anxious
    to have you all for dinner,
    their “Mystery Meat” Pot Roast
    is for sure a drop dead winner.

    So, they’ll see you when you’re hungry,
    or come in when you thirst,
    Hans and Greta do assure you,
    you could really do much worse.

    “The Witching Hour” beckons you,
    to ignore it would be rude,
    Wine and dine, you’ll do just fine
    with all our “Killer” food.

    (Formerly the “Kill ’em and Grill ’em Steakhouse”, Paramus, New Jersey, 07652)

  8. Karen31


    All of this has happened before. Cat resolves
    to bird: claws, talons; fur, feathers; bones hollow out.
    Fish grow legs and lungs, inherit the land. Hope
    drops its quills and develops its lonely doubt.
    The Magic and the Real exchange addresses.
    The writer washes up and then confesses
    that she never saw the flower in its flight –
    yet these dreams transport her reader through the night.

  9. Walter J Wojtanik


    The season of war. The season of dreaming.
    I have a tale about ignorance, getting old and being a poet.
    A story about a man. He couldn’t stop Father Time
    from sweeping his feet out from under him. His age set him

    in his ways of single mindedness. The man was a magician with words.
    In a way, he cast incantations on those who chose to read his works.
    His numbered days dwindled. Searching for truths like buried treasure,
    he would pleasure himself with his stories of struggles he never had

    or had worn on his sleeve. He would grieve the lost of his innocence
    through the hands of indifference, in deference to his vacuous head.
    Instead, he just wrote the words that had been born of his pain,
    words danced in his brain but became embattled when exposed.

    His flaws became apparent. There was no bliss in his ignorance.
    At times he took to vocalize his thoughts, the local rabble would taunt.
    They would attack his mindedness for as long as he was speaking .
    In days of wisdom or of madness, he would find the meaning of ignorance.

    People thought we survived these things by hiding in a bar.
    I survived the war by hiding in a library.
    Nary a soul would join me or chose to read my words.
    I’m that magician, in my way!

  10. fbxwriter

    Overwhelming Magic

    I sometimes contemplate
    My home, my town, my state
    Our country, our region, our Earth
    The galaxy, the universe

    And how it all came to be
    A big bang, singularity
    Call it Oneness, Nature, God
    It is Magic
    I am awed

  11. SarahLeaSales

    Abra Cadaver

    Her husband had been an illusionist,
    playing credit card tricks,
    pulling Playboy bunnies out of hats,
    & penetrating her with knives
    only she felt, but no one could see.
    He was a Houdini who bound not himself,
    but herself,
    with the ties of matrimony.
    Before she got to pull her disappearing trick,
    he finished her off with his

  12. RJ Clarken

    Science Magic

    “Science is magic that works.” ~Kurt Vonnegut

    tube or
    a beaker
    can be filled with such
    stuff as dreams are made on. Wonder
    why this is so? Because science makes magic happen.
    Look at a rocket racing towards the sky, or a flower blooming. Science. Magic. This.


  13. Daniel Paicopulos

    Enchanting Bliss

    Like Bogey and Bacall,
    with our love unfurled,
    we bring order, stability,
    steadfast togetherness,
    bright lights in a dark world.
    Ours is not a dream,
    there’s no magic in our art,
    though to others it might so seem,
    we are simply playing our part.
    Cupid’s arrows never struck,
    with mysterious love potions,
    no magic flower picked by Puck,
    ever created dreamlike notions.
    It’s no accident, no stroke of luck,
    we do not bumble,
    seldom stumble,
    satisfied each day
    with what life has meant to say.
    Not star-cross’d lovers,
    hoping for do-overs,
    no need for enchantment,
    T’would just impede our way.
    We’ve turned our dreams into reality,
    true visionaries, we let life be.
    Even if our love were a dream,
    it would need to be embraced,
    but no golden palace, no silver hill,
    no white elephant need be chased.
    Our love, like life,
    though not a dream, remains
    unfathomable, indescribable,
    it simply sits there, glowing.
    We cannot grasp it,
    so we simply
    bathe in its perplexity,
    revel in its complexity,
    be content in never knowing.

  14. kristaselene

    “Twin Flames”

    Beyond all explanation
    There is a powerful feeling of knowing
    Knowing who you are,
    and everywhere you’ve ever seen
    For we were together all along
    My soul has known yours for an eternity
    It isn’t learning who you are,
    but remembering who we have been

  15. PowerUnit

    draft #1

    I sit and stare, at glazed window pages
    the barrier of cold, thoughts gone stale

    wondering why we believe so easily in the
    unbelievable, why we see the face of the mother

    of God on burnt toast or in billowing clouds
    and the shrouds cover the shoulders of the holiest

    indigent pandering the undersides of bridges, examine
    the empty pockets of brethren despite everyone’s

    eleemosynary pantomimes’ pockets full of gold
    chains of penury free the mind of tragic, give

    hope for something, from nothing, a real miracle
    the pulling a rabbit out of a held out hat, and that

    would make a fine meal, roasted on a stick
    and washed down with a bottle of Cold Duck

  16. EllaT

    For My Next Trick

    her gummy smile crunches her cheeks
    into breathtaking dimples

    she waves her arm
    mustering the accuracy
    to grab the rattle dangled above

    her tiny fingers wrap around the stem
    she squeals and pulls it towards her
    the bounty now en route
    to that gummy smile

    1. Troy DeFrates

      Looking in the mirror and seeing yourself for what you are us a powerful thing to do without being “under a spell” living to others’ expectations. Nice, fun and deep poetry that makes you think. Thank you for sharing. Troy

  17. Ann M

    a heron flew overhead
    the same day they tore
    down the ramp
    at the corner house.

    i remember him
    walking up the street
    carrying the past like magic,
    light and heavy at the same time.

    once he danced all night
    in the basement.
    once he shot hoops
    and painted his house blue.

    without the ramp,
    the door is closed.
    the street is empty.
    the heron, gone.

  18. writinglife16


    The bloody corpse lay
    in the upstairs hallway.
    As she approached it,
    her conscience whispered
    “Sugar at night rots your brain.”

    She woke up screaming.
    She went downstairs and
    got the sugar.
    Then she sprinkled the corpse.
    It disappeared.
    She told the voice,
    “sugar rots corpses and you too.”

  19. taylor graham


    I’m trying to identify
    our oaks by the variable tarnish
    of their foliage, just past equinox.
    Bull thistle stops me
    with its autumn-leftover blossom,
    white and pure as angel fluff.
    In spring, the bloom was royal purple.
    Later, nondescript as the whole
    plant turned summer-beige.
    Goldfinch adored it for its seeds.
    Now the flower looks like bristly snow-
    balls at the tip of the thistle-
    king’s scepter. Is this overnight
    magic? Or simply the natural way
    of thistle through seasons, and I just
    haven’t been paying attention?

  20. LeeAnne Ellyett

    Magic Words

    Please and Thank You,
    used to few-
    times, like new-
    words, to a few-
    people, here’s a clue-
    less, a review-
    be Polite, be True
    Please and Thank You.

  21. Anthony94

    Magic Is This

    putting down of lines
    and circles open ovals
    cross bars tiny beams
    that hold up like steel
    bend like prismatic light

    we call them letters
    cut and craft them tiny
    syllables we smash together
    or gently edge toward
    marriage into the breath
    of phrase the pyramid
    rising to the sky of sentence

    we write magic then
    runes to be deciphered
    by the daring willing to
    read risks we shower
    like chaff in winter wind

    sparkles shards all the
    glistenings wet with heart
    tears and those joys when
    we know we’ve got it right

      1. Anthony94

        Thank you so much! But right back achtya!! I still see people “cringe” when they ask what in my off hours and I answer poet, but this site validates so many of our ‘whys’. I think this community and you in particular show that so much of it is craft after the initial inspiration. Poem on!

  22. Jane Shlensky

    Making Magic

    The practice is a lot of work,
    such mindfulness to read the notes,
    the repetition wearying.
    I try segments again again
    from slow tempo increasing speed.
    I let my fingers memorize
    until they know more than my eyes.
    I do not count the hours I spend
    until I’ve got the movement down.
    It’s something new to learn,
    that’s all, and I do love to know
    a song from hum to herald
    in my head. And somewhere
    in the process, my eyes, my ears,
    my hands are joined by heart,
    and then the melody rides on
    a wave of feeling, of joy, and
    if I’m lucky, transmits that feeling
    to other ears and eyes and hearts
    and that’s the best magic I know.

    1. Walter J Wojtanik

      And the fair Jane. I read your magic always! You know I’ve always said we poets reach deep into our hearts and touch our joy and pain and put it on our “page” to let others know how it feels. You’ve grasped that in your own very talented way! I admire you and your work!

  23. k weber

    levitate me later

    there’s magic in me and it’s
    a novelty. i am fake dog vomit
    today: dangling a thermometer
    from my mouth like an exploding
    cigarette. this itching powder’s
    not helping. somebody saw me
    in half and figure this out. i am cold
    like plastic cubes with plastic flies
    inside, chattering teeth. i am hot
    like peppered chewing gum. tonight
    it’s rubber chicken for dinner. the real
    trick is to keep breathing.

  24. brokenlens

    Carnival for lovers

    We sat and peeked with excitement in our eyes, daydreaming about our hopes and aspirations.
    Intoxicated by euphoria.
    fortune-tellers forecasting prophecies of passions deeply rooted by the seeds of infatuation.
    Magic love spells cast from the strength of our fears.
    We walked and held hands through natures beautiful complexities, amazed by the establishment of our surroundings.


    the storm sweep through and distorted our fantasy that has fallen abandoned. All that remain are the fragments of our hearts scattered throughout.

  25. taylor graham

    Georgetown Nature Area

    This place of silence.
    The pond a natural spring-fed well.
    Drums muffled to a heartbeat.

    Ancient people lived here,
    I hear tell. Gone now.
    An old man sits on a log

    mumbling thoughts or verses
    of a spell. The pond begins to ripple,
    water-song moving without stirring sound.

    The pines speak of winds
    high in their crowns, un-rooted as raven.
    Earth tugs at my boots. The bell

    of sky plays each nerve.
    A swell of words unwritten. Magic
    when meadow-grass speaks their names.

  26. Darlene Franklin

    Disappearing Trick
    The sea makes magicians of us all
    Slipping sands at the edge of seafoam
    Invites us to gather its colorful haul
    We stop to press heap sand in buckets
    Seashell, a sand dollar, mark the wall
    Seagulls stop by, seeking their share
    Satisfied, we wait and watch night’s fall
    Moody maestro Neptune starts to roam
    Castle, moat, and wall gone with tide’s crawl
    Darlene Franklin

  27. Daniel Paicopulos


    Always be yourself,
    unless you can be a magician.
    Then be that.
    It requires no one’s permission.
    Magic can save the the world,
    one starfish at a time,
    also one flower, one tree, one human,
    each precious to its kind.
    Try saving the world,
    transforming it with love,
    with right action, too,
    not just white magic from above.
    Go ahead, save the planet,
    but it’ll take a miracle, some say.
    Well, then, we’d best get started.
    Can’t think of a better day.

  28. Marie Elena

    “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” ~ Philippians 4:7


    Forgive me,
    saintly populous,
    for using the nonspiritual term
    to describe the heart at peace
    in the midst of chaos.
    To describe the allure
    of the God who passes
    all superhero wonders,
    as He lifts us from our
    reckless selves,
    to lean against His heart
    and absorb His peace.
    But if that isn’t magic …

    © Marie Elena Good

    1. Walter J Wojtanik

      He can see them anyway if he looks in the right places, Will… Oh, SAW! I get it now! You’re amazing and considered a mentor in the vein of Salvatore Buttaci,skill and talent beyond compare. And Marie and I have tilled the soil and are planting again. Come see the blooms?

  29. Not-Only But-Also Riley

    language of the leaves

    there is some slanted sort of speak,
    that is coming from the leaves.
    some sort of ancient incantation
    whispered in secrecy.

    and in their talk, these kind of words,
    these parts of speech that are all blurred.
    some sort of other-wordly wiseness
    that is seemingly unheard.

    and i truly do believe
    that these spells do not deceive.
    if only we humans would listen
    to the language of the leaves.

  30. Tracy Davidson

    All Hallows Eve

    Witches stay home on Halloween,
    they have no time for tricks or treats.
    True magic’s secret, stays unseen,
    witches stay home on Halloween.
    The demons too, are none too keen
    when costumed children prowl the streets.
    Witches stay home on Halloween,
    they have no time for tricks or treats.

  31. Tracy Davidson


    last light
    she feels free,
    her bare limbs white
    in dusk’s sudden chill.
    A flock of birds take fright
    at her approach, she ignores
    their skittishness, her goal in sight…
    the full moon rises as sun sinks low.
    She shrugs off skin, surrenders to the night.

  32. timphilippart

    Tonight the Bats

    That should scare you but,
    if it doesn’t frighten you to the core,
    be advised,
    they carried my wee Granny away.

    she was kicking and cursing
    as they flew for the full moon,
    be advised,
    she was sterner of stock than most grannies.

    they squared off in their cave
    on the dark side of the moon,
    be advised,
    three million of them to my one wee granny

    you’re right, the odds weren’t fair,
    they were stacked in favor of granny,
    be advised,
    she just finished a batch of home brew.

    there was nothing she liked better than,
    crinkling the cap on a bottle of her best,
    be advised,
    trips to the moon made her thirsty,

    so she grabbed her broom, swept out the bats
    side-saddled the handle and, magically, rode it back,
    be advised,
    that’s why there are no bats on the moon.

  33. taylor graham


    Yesterday, one unspoiled banana in the bowl,
    your cantankerous-bristly brush on the counter.

    By dark of night, from a hole triangular
    as if by magic, they issued and disappeared.

    By morning, banana half-eaten fruit and peel,
    bristly-brush upended on the floor.

    Dog’s in a passion over what she missed.
    In spite of traps the mice will win.

  34. Walter J Wojtanik


    The days are getting shorter still,
    the summer has faded away,
    we’ll say goodbye from on the hill
    of those late summer’s days.

    I hold you near and we can hear
    Fall entering from the wings,
    the colors warm will soon appear,
    with all that magic autumn brings.

    Moments of love’s long embrace
    sustain us through the night,
    and glowing starlight on your face
    makes everything feel right.

    Prepare to dream of Summer sun,
    a restful sleep ensues,
    with memories of Summer fun;
    are the ones we’ll never lose.

    The kiss we shared upon that shore,
    the picnics in the park,
    the magic of this life and more
    will greet us after dark.

    And there my dear, I’ll hold you,
    and whisper love’s entreaty,
    when summer sets, when day is through
    to rest in autumn’s beauty.

    So, go to sleep and have your rest,
    I’ll wake you come the Spring,
    just lay your head upon my chest
    to see what magic this night brings.

  35. Walter J Wojtanik


    Now you see me,
    before your eyes, no surprises apparent
    not quite transparent or see through
    but you chose to abuse the magic.
    It was a tragic ending to a promising
    befriending. You’re sending me packing
    and sacking my memories. A tremor
    under the surface and opened a chasm
    that can not be sealed. It’s been real.

    Now you see me,
    Naked, bare, staining there
    without a stitch of dignity and
    you came along to cover me,
    you’ve discovered me with no defenses
    and you commence to glue me together,
    better than ever, a clever rouse to chose me
    to be your magician, in the tradition of Blackstone
    and Houdini, you shield me from further harm
    a part of your charm in how you see me.
    Now you see me; now she won’t.

  36. Walter J Wojtanik


    A poetic word magician
    performing feats of fiction.
    amazing micro poetry,
    ponderous prose prestidigitation,
    pulling rare bits from a hat,
    tricks and gags, and all of that.
    Alliterative illusions illustrated here,
    as I make bawdy limericks disappear.
    Literary magic, that’s my deal,
    I’ll be here all week, try the veal.

    1. Walter J Wojtanik

      We all have our own brand of magic, LeeAnn, but thank you! I pull them all out of my magic poet hat, Marie. They reside right next to the rabbits. (Alphabetically, of course!) Glad I brought a laugh out of you, Power Unit. I would have settled for a hearty guffaw! You as well, CH2.

  37. Poetjo

    My Body is Magic



    My body
    has been
    it has

    My son

    no less

    is in my
    as I
    to walk

    1. k weber

      i love how your poem emphasizes that magic is within us, but also timeless. i tend to think of magical moments being certain things that happened when i was younger. so much yet to still look forward to… and there’s magic everyday. thanks for that reminder!


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.