I run across an abandoned place, On a signed erased by rain across the road. The house stand still despite it aged, The squeaking sounds and random cracks Breaks the silence. The old house speaks its language. It tells a story of an orhpanage On…
Category: Poetry Prompt Responses
Prompt Eighteen – The Sacred Crows
Hour Eighteen – Text Prompt Write a poem about a haunting, real, or imagined, detailed or abstract. Image Prompt – Ravens and Crows You always know, when you see a crow Of the powers that they own For those who die, are unable to…
(Hour 18) 15.30pm-16.30pm. BOTH PROMPTS: haunting + photo of 2 corvids
three ravens somehow : out of the shadows : three black birds : hover : the first we have seen : if indeed they are even there : for they float : on air : without sound : almost without movement : & do not…
Lost in Oblivion – Hour Eighteen
Lost in Oblivion This digital age has become an undoing Of communication and of common sense Whole words whittled down to mete fragments of lingo And at youthful minds own expense The kids of today have lost their direction Eyes deeply buried into their phones…
My Sister Sandy
Sounds of laughter come out through my voice. They are not always my own. My silvery hair seems to hang in such a way That our resemblance is uncanny. I’ve felt her presence Since she’s been gone. I’ve seen it my entire life. Others notice…
8pm. Poem 18 Fireghosts
8pm. Poem 18 Fireghosts They will stay. Their smoke will scent freshly painted buildings their footprints will sink into the sand where no one else has been their sighs will sing out at sunset. They will gather under her. They gather there now under and…
The crow #2023poetrymarathon #prompthour18
I used to hate crows, scavengers of the earth squawking, snatching, swamping the skies when one died, shot by that stray bullet frightening us into the house. But then they said that crows were good that when they eat the food offered to the dead…
Hour 18 image prompt -Bird call
Recently a bird call Alerted all the cats That crows were flying swiftly To hit down on our town Calling out their flight signs Clearing out a paths And now they lurk all over Calling out the time Caw caw caw caw Creating quite a…
Hour 18 – Afters
Afters My life is made from afters, from endings. It is made from dust, clinging tightly to the floorboard behind the stove. It is made from towels of spilt seed left under the bed and of ghosts lingering in their houses. When I say…
Hour 18 text prompt- Ghosting
Once in my apartment A dish flipped by itself And the plates shifted In a way that defied aerodynamics And no one had just touched it Or done a loud stomp The house had not shaken But still the dish did drop And move away…