21 running away running away toward rhe new future go toward tl the future and toward running away
Category: Poetry Prompts
Age of Retirement
20 Age of Retirement I am learning the new routine of the age of retirement I shuffle old paper The new routine of digging into my past I shuffle old paper keep new at bay The new routine of no routine is scary keep new…
Two Crows
18 Two Crows Today’s walk outside I watched two crows. They hold good luck so as I watch them dance I hope they don’t leave me without luck on a day where I need what I gather.
My Illusive Dreams
My elusive dreams Stay funky* Even in the hours of dream I am staid, proper, afraid of what is outside of my zone of solitude. I wish I was edgy but manage just a snitch of snark. Earth to Asgard** If the gods are crazy…
Staying Awake
Hour 15 Staying Awake The reader will have to get flowers to disconnect from the reviews. I have been unfinishable. The crawl into reality is the sword and shield of flat earth and the Martian rocks. Belief is that everybody dies again. To be honest…
“Mumble”
Speaking mumble yet still maintaining a will, The quietness of the early night saying hello. Things are not quite right around, I’m acting like on a drug but just a drop of coffee running on my blood. I’m good, I guess I still…
Not This One
Age, specifically mine, has begun to define me. I think of “The Twilight Zone” imagining a world But not this one. I think of a world without humans. After all, we’ve already had our shot. A world free of abuse, corruption and assholes. Well, only…
Hour 22 Prompt
SOMETHING SMELLS NICE Something smells nice Ah it seems to be coming from the rectangular box Hey what is this? Something circular is inside a rectangular box The smell is just mouth-watering, Tomatoes, cheese, capsicums, olives seem to be beckoning me I cannot control myself…
Other worlds #2023poetrymarathon #prompthour23
The sun rises mainly to the north and sets again after 40 hours in the east. There are delicious little green berries that we pick with sticky fingers and cram into our mouths like there is no tomorrow. The moons are bloody orbs of delight,…