Suggestions and poetry to inspire your own creative writing.
Our prompt this week is Outcast.
We write so much about what’s in our world, try writing about an outcast.
As always, please share your post in the comments, I will be happy to read it and share my thoughts.
The edge of a storm,
where the sun shines as it rains,
is fleeting beauty.
This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Fleeting Beauty.
Our prompt this week is Fleeting Beauty.
Lots to come to terms with on this one (what is beauty? how fast is fleeting?). See where this takes you for writing a poem.
I personally think Haiku naturally conveys a sense of fleeting beauty. If all else fails, try a Haiku on the topic. More about the Haiku form here.
As always, please share your post in the comments, I will be happy to read it and share my thoughts.
How successful are you?
Did you start from the bottom or the top?
Have all your dreams come true,
or did you get comfy and stop?
Did you start from the bottom or the top,
always striving for more?
Or did you get comfy and stop,
wondering what it’s all really for?
Always striving for more.
Did you start with clear intention?
Wondering what it’s all really for?
Following your heart is a good direction.
Did you start from the bottom or the top?
Have all your dreams come true?
Following your heart is a good direction.
How successful are you?
This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Success.
Our prompt this week is Success.
What needs to be successful in your life? How do you measure if it is a success?
I have a pantoum prepared for this one. If you care to join me, write a pantoum of your own. More information about the pantoum form can be found here.
As always, please share your post in the comments, I will be happy to read it and share my thoughts.
Jobs,
I may lack the skills to get a good one,
but I know I don’t want a bad one.
Money,
I am inclined to always want more,
but there is happiness in having just enough.
Time,
something I’m told to make, save, or spend,
but time is an illusion, there to help me move about this world.
Love,
something I often think I need to find or give,
but love is an action I do for myself and others.
Act with love,
mark your time,
enjoy the money you have,
and learn enough to do a good job.
This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Back to Basics.
Our prompt this week is Back to Basics.
What are the basics in your life? If you could no longer hold on to everything, what would you keep closest so it would be the last to go? Write your poem about whatever basics of life come to mind.
As always, please share your post in the comments, I will be happy to read it and share my thoughts.
Instead of writing about fate or freewill, I cheated and wrote a Haiku about each.
The arrow’s arc traced
the path that had been waiting
since the start of time.
————————————————————————————-
Though it may be true,
I cannot choose the outcome,
I choose my response.
This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Fate or Freewill.
Our prompt this week is Fate or Freewill.
Our sciences have found no place or proof for freewill. Yet, having freewill is something nearly all belief systems hold as a universal truth – Humans can choose. But still, if we all came from the same place, and we are all headed for the same destination, what choice do we have?
Pick fate or freewill and see where your poem takes you.
As always, please share your post in the comments, I will be happy to read it and share my thoughts.
A man sat on his back deck
gazing at gray fence boards,
seeing the rusty nail heads
that matched his rusty Ford.
The life he built around him
was starting to look worn out,
to start it new or ride it through
was what he thought about.
His bitter cup of coffee
was starting to get cold,
his pining for the good life
was starting to get old.
The Ford out on the driveway
always gets him where he goes,
he’s surrounded by his family
and everyone he knows.
So what’s this of the good life
that frees up all his days,
no working just to get by
and endless time to play?
He rises from the back deck
and smiles at what he sees,
he’s living the type of fine life
most beg for on their knees.
He’s got himself a good life
he’d beg for on his knees.
This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, The Good Life.
Poetry Prompts and Poems