Prompt Sixteen – Text Prompt Write a poem that is pretending to be something else, a set of instructions, a recipe, a letter, a news report, etc.   Come, visit me please   Dear Dad, Hope you’re well, but you know, I have a bone…

Count your blessings carefully. Think of them, appreciate each. Marinate them in fresh laughter (when was the last time you laughed?) and a few drops of tears (for sanity and balance.) Sieve belief carefully culling all the blind spots and information derived from media and…

Thank you Poetry Marathon gods … this is exactly what I needed.   ATTENTION unfortunately this poem factory is currently  CLOSED FOR LUNCH We will reopen again at 2.30 ACT after a bite to eat & possibly a quick lie down

It was the world that crumbled over her head She had no tears left, that the skies had to cry for her heavy heart. But she could take no sense of it. It was as though She parted ways with everything Almost like worlds apart….

Hour Fourteen (The Other Side of the Coin) They pay it forward and press upon the smalls of backs urging one to continue- they hush the noise of conflict and like lampposts, guide the way with experience latched to their backs and wisdom tucked into…

perfect posture Priya has put the pot On her head … & left it there Oh why is she doing this Poor girl she’s hardly said boo To me or anyone the 3 days She’s been travelling with us & now this strange attention Seeking…

Winter’s on my tongue now Shivers chilling down my spine My hands grow cold, my eyes dry This is the kind of cold no warmth would suffice. Winter’s on my tongue I haven’t tasted nothing more bitter The sun hides behind curtained clouds And the…

Hour Fifteen – Text Prompt Write a poem about an experience, but from the perspective of another. For example you could write a poem about your wedding from the experience of your spouse, or you could write a poem about an argument with a stranger…

Moving On We will never see eye to eye Our differences too great It makes no sense to question why It would make us irate It may be sad; we may have tried But it’s just not worth our troubles We’re better off our separate…

Lady in the waiting room Vermillion smeared on forehead. Sandal paste on her neck Hands buried in beads Fumbling fingers moving The mouth chanting a prayer As her mother’s tired eyes wait Her hand clinging to her colostomy bag Patiently, just as the doctor said….