Text Prompt There are so many nature poems out there. Our prompt for this hour of the night is to write a poem for a city, real or imagined. Image Prompt Photo by buian_99 on Unsplash

I enjoy the solitude Leaving me for a small talk Creating a solemn mix It sinks in slowly As I dance in its arms Circling round and round I like it’s company My soul sings and soars My mind still on those joyous moments Clinging…

When he broke up Tears accompanied Looking forward to many dreams Faded Life is left as the waste paper How many anxiety nights have deprived outof sleep Midas touch standing in front of the sill The pain of being left like a sour grapefruit Unless…

Joy, even in fear and pain infected toe, with pus and stain out a week to heal and drain a glimpse of retirement doing whatever the week will bring.   Happiness, despite one oozing digit is easy when sleep-in days are in it sitting, reading,…

Prompt Eighteen – Write a poem about a moment of joy.   JOY We had waited for this call for seven long years. ‘Hello,’ I answer, quivering with my fears. ‘We’ve found the perfect match,’ she said. ‘All sweet and pink, with a roundy round…

Text Prompt Write a poem about a moment of joy. Joyful Today I choose to be joyful. Revel in the little things. Bask in the sunshine of my everlasting glow. My skin warms up. My nerves lost control. Recall my purpose- I am. Forget all…

Revelry like a pup again tossing her treat in the air the old girl is back

Momentous Moment Long hours of preparation The competitive exam, The application process, And after, not knowing Not daring to guess Whether I’ve done as well as I thought. As well as I ought– After the long hours of study. Pitting myself against Unseen forces Hoping…

“He is coming and I am here” – The Time Traveler’s Wife. He is coming and I am here A reunion long in coming He’s finally back on US soil Back with our family again He’s safe, he’s near, he’ll be here soon He’ll meet…

With credit to Robert Frost for the first three lines, taken from lines 1, 3, and 5 in “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”. Whose woods these are I think I know He will not see me stopping here My little horse must think…