\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
    August     ►
SMTWTFS
     
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
Archive RSS
Printed from https://webx1.writing.com/main/books/item_id/2222258-Promptly-Poetry/sort_by/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/page/1
Rated: E · Book · Activity · #2222258

A poem a week for a year.

Anything to break the drought...
Previous ... -1- 2 3 4 5 6 ... Next
July 2, 2023 at 11:18am
July 2, 2023 at 11:18am
#1052013
Sorrow

Sorrow hides behind a smile,
keeps no account of bygone wrongs,
takes no heed of present guile,
finds its ease in sad sweet songs.

Sorrow does not seek redress
for rights restrained or payment lost,
it bears with patience such excess
and reckons not with hurt or cost.

Sorrow sees with honest eyes
this fallen world and all its pains,
speaks not of blame and fault and lies,
waits only for release of chains.



Line count: 12
Rhymed abab
For Promptly Poetry Challenge, Week 52 2023
Prompt: Sorrow.

June 26, 2023 at 9:14am
June 26, 2023 at 9:14am
#1051612
Bubble and Squeak

The best thing with leftovers
from Newcastle to Dover
is named bubble and squeak,
it fills yer tum and yer cheek.

Mashed taters from dinner
(it won’t make yer thinner)
and boiled cabbage too,
fried in a pan, then you’re thru.

Whatever else you can find
throw it in, you won’t mind,
onions and carrots, all will avail,
some (strangely) use kale.

For breakfast there’s no finer thing
the frying bubbles, they do sing
while the cabbages can squeak
and mouths be too full to speak.



Line count: 16
Rhymed aabb
For Promptly Poetry Challenge, Week 51 2023
Prompt: Leftovers.

June 19, 2023 at 11:23am
June 19, 2023 at 11:23am
#1051327
A daisy releases red and blue pollen against a black background.


Daisy Dear

Daisy dear, what have you done?
Now the night has hidden sun,
wake you thus upon the darkness,
so the witching hour to harness,
breathe you deep of unknown magic,
deaf to consequences tragic,
release the poisoned pollen horde,
into the chilly breeze it’s poured,
smoky reds and billowing blues,
these the colours that confuse,
and drifting on musk-scented air,
search the souls of creatures there,
turn their minds once bright and strong,
to an evil, vile and wrong,
grim their faces, bereft of sun.
Daisy dear, what have you done?



Line count: 16
Form: Trochaic tetrameter rhymed aabbccdd
For Promptly Poetry Challenge, Week 50
Prompt: As per illustration.

June 12, 2023 at 9:27am
June 12, 2023 at 9:27am
#1050970
Thanksgiving

This
Gifted time
Of words unfettered
Teeming from my age old days
Winter harvest unforeseen
Such twilight shadows
Guttering
Life

Life
Guttering
Such twilight shadows
Winter harvest unforeseen
Teeming from my age old days
Of words unfettered
Gifted time
This



Line count: 16
Form: Joseph’s Star (syllables 1,3,5,7,7,5,3,1 centred)
For Promptly Poetry Challenge, Week 49
Prompt: Write a poem in Joseph’s Star form.
May 24, 2021 at 12:01pm
May 24, 2021 at 12:01pm
#1010666
End of Innocence

Lost now and gone forever,
childhood is our Eden,
slipped from careless fingers
when reaching in desire for knowledge.

Sweet memory stands at the gate,
presenting slivers of nostalgia,
wrapped like gifts in coloured paper,
our dreams of yesteryear.

Yet the way is barred, return forbidden,
our feet locked into step as we follow
the path we laid with choices.
We cannot unlearn what we know.

A new day dawns with hope,
Light floods the bare horizon
and darkness flees the skies.
Oblivion may be rebirth.



Line count: 16
Free verse
For Promptly Poetry, Week 52!
Prompt: Write a poem about something that has ended.

May 17, 2021 at 11:53am
May 17, 2021 at 11:53am
#1010299
A Moon Lampoon

The man in the moon
Came down too soon
And asked the way to Norwich*;
He went by the south
And burnt his mouth
By eating cold pease porridge.**


I looked for the place
He’d come from space
And found a great big ladder.
It would make me proud
To pierce the clouds
But not would leave me sadder.

For many a mile
I climbed that stile
To and through the clouds I went,
And the stars drew near,
The moon quite clear,
But space smells of bacon scent.***

To the moon I rose,
Grounded my toes
On that vista of blue cheese.
Walked from Wensleydale
To Roquefort’s vale
And Camembert’s fields of ease.

Oh, I cannot tell
About those smells
Of mighty Gorgonzola;
Saint Agur did pong
And Stilton’s strong****
Amid the streams of cola.

Then I came back home
No more to roam,
Down ladder long and dreary.
I had feasted well,
So strong the smell,
That friends they won’t come near me!



Line Count: 36 (including the first stanza)
Rhyme scheme aabccb, syllables 5-4-7-5-4-7
For Promptly Poetry, Week 51
Prompt: There's a ladder, you can't see where it goes because of the clouds. Where might this ladder to the sky lead?
Notes: The first stanza is actually an old English nursery rhyme to which I have devised an answer.
* Pronounced Norridge by the locals.
** Pease porridge is made of peas, although “pease” is the old, singular form of the word.
*** Astronauts report that, after a space walk, their suits smell of bacon, admittedly overdone.
**** All these cheeses are blue with the one exception of Camembert, which is weird enough to be welcomed among their ranks. I have sampled them all and can attest to both their wonderful, subtle tastes and powerful perfumes!

May 14, 2021 at 12:08pm
May 14, 2021 at 12:08pm
#1010172
Fruitses

Fruitses are bruteses
they slop on our faces,
messy and loosish,
they scrunches to juices.

Lemons be sour
they makes us to pucker,
smell like air fresh’ner,
and lead us to pluck ‘er.

Apples be ‘arder
they crunch all the louder,
cinnamon be partner,
made Newton the founder

of gravity.

Pears is not doubles,
they tend to the sing’lar
and give you no trouble,
down your cheeks they be dribbler.

Blueb’rries ain’t blue
they’s purple you see
and that’s what they’ll do,
stain lips purple to be.

But clementines
is hard to rhyme,
and difficult to say in time,
especially since they just little oranges.

And there ain’t no rhyme for oranges.



Line count: 26
Sorta rhymin’ verse
For Promptly Poetry, Week 50
Prompt: lemons, apples, pears, blueberries, or (and) clementines.

May 4, 2021 at 12:18pm
May 4, 2021 at 12:18pm
#1009644
Cloudy

Cumulus like cotton wool
fluffy, soft and billowing,
the stuff of dreams and light,
is what we mean by “cloud.”

Cirrus is drawn upon the sky
in pastel strokes of chalky streaks
high up across the sky,
cross hatch, scribble, patterns.

Nimbo drapes the sky in grey,
rain or snow it promises,
a swathe of gloom above,
featureless and plain.

Stratus weighs upon the earth,
heavy, dark and moody,
lays claim to world above,
yet mostly only drizzles.

Then there’s family combinations,
names and titles intertwining,
cumulonimbus, altostratus,
stratocumulus, cirrostratus,

cirrocumulus, nimbostratus,
altocumulus, cumulostratus,
names to conjure, words and mists,
ethereal and vaporous.



Line count: 24
Free verse
For Promptly Poetry, Week 49
Prompt: Title your poem "Cloudy." Whether you stick with weather imagery or explore emotive ideas, try to keep the title in mind as you write your poem.

April 29, 2021 at 10:31am
April 29, 2021 at 10:31am
#1009354
Elemental Seasons

Spring peers from the wings,
smiles, retreats, appears again,
crocus pushes through the melting snow,
rain grows the puddles to rushing rills
and sunlight crowns the damp grass
with bright reflection
between the showers of indecision.

Summer reigns the drying earth,
brings new growth to maturity,
the grass pales in the silent heat,
foliage darkens with intensity,
soil hardens in the furnace days
and the shouts of children in the shade
greet the humming mowers.

Autumn drifts in as a fire,
painting the leaves with colours of flame,
drawing the dust of harvest through seared nostrils,
leaching the blue of skies to cirrostratus,
shaking the fruit from wearied branches,
‘til the first frost silvers the lawn,
draws patterns on our panes.

Winter arrives in the wind,
with the sharp scent of cold plucking at the skin,
the nights hard, long and testing the house,
morning sounds dulled with muffler snow,
light strained through the clouds of breath,
and the days, though short,
pile in the corner uncounted.



Line count: 28
Free verse
For Promptly Poetry, Week 48
Prompt: Write a poem about all four seasons.

April 20, 2021 at 11:05am
April 20, 2021 at 11:05am
#1008832
Last Warrior to the Fray

A bookstore, you say?
Well, once the treasured dream
of half the women in England, Nell,
but now with a sell by date,
surely. Who buys books today,
now the computer reigns supreme?
Oh, I understand the romance,
the unspoken delights and secrets
stacked on shelves of silence,
the cracking open of a pristine spine,
the smell of a damn fine read,
been there myself with money for two
and fifteen that I longed to own.
I remember the hours spent searching
for nothing in particular,
just a passport to another world,
and I mourn with you the passing
of such things once thought immortal.
You’ll have my blessing in your endeavour
for I can wish you only well,
though I fear the future frowns upon
dinosaurs like you and me.
May your books and store survive e'en so,
the times of famine recede,
perhaps, like vinyl, to flourish again
when nostalgia drives the train.



Line count: 26
Free verse
For Promptly Poetry, Week 47
Prompt: Write a poem about a woman who works at a bookstore.


55 Entries *Magnify*
Page of 6 10 per page   < >
Previous ... -1- 2 3 4 5 6 ... Next

© Copyright 2025 Beholden (UN: beholden at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Beholden has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Printed from https://webx1.writing.com/main/books/item_id/2222258-Promptly-Poetry/sort_by/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/page/1