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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/item_id/2225590-More-Promptly-Poetry--PPC-5
by Ned
Rated: 13+ · Book · Emotional · #2225590
More poems for Promptly Poetry, stuffed into this book because I have reached my limit.
Prompt: (verb) to move to action
Promptly: (adverb) : very quickly or immediately
Poetry: a form of writing that no one ever reads
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November 1, 2024 at 6:59am
November 1, 2024 at 6:59am
#1079291

Now November, air perfumed with sweet decay
Fruit fermenting under a carpet of leaves,
There’s still time to prepare for Winter today.

Bird feeders turn squirrels into clever thieves,
Bluejays squawk at the unwelcome intrusion,
What keeps one through the dearth, another aggrieves.

The trees now cleared of their color infusion,
Stand like prophets of dire desolation.
Wildlife prepare for the coming reclusion.

November strips the world of green temptation,
So it may slumber in hushed hibernation.


Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)

Week 12

Form: Terza Rima

A Terza Rima is a poem with an eleven-syllable count in each line
and a rhyming scheme of aba, bcb, cdc, dd.
Poem should be inspired by the prompt/image in some way
This form is eleven lines.
November 1, 2024 at 6:57am
November 1, 2024 at 6:57am
#1079290
can actually be found here "Spot The Ghost
October 18, 2024 at 7:37am
October 18, 2024 at 7:37am
#1078507
I don’t know if it’s an art, or just a craft
sometimes it feels like hard labor
stitching in colors, one upon another
until the vision begins to appear.
Suddenly, the lines and blocks of color
become the symbols of joy.
Snowflakes fall, reindeer dance,
trees take shape one branch at a time.

It’s heavy and cumbersome
not like a painting that rests on an easel
or a jigsaw on a table,
it’s weight is accomplishment.
A struggle for weary shoulders to lift,
a burden for arms to carry,
yet there’s deep and satisfying warmth
when laid upon my lap.

This tapestry of woven yarn
built one stitch at a time,
drives me line upon line
until the joy of knotting the last end.
But there’s still hanks of yarn
that ask to be entwined and raveled
into stories and pictures that travel
from my heart to my hands.
October 9, 2024 at 7:33am
October 9, 2024 at 7:33am
#1077988
When the flames finally retreat, the meat
hits the grill with a rush, a crashing wave
Then a hush! that becomes a sizzling murmur as
the fat is rendered. Seduced by the heat
it drips into the fire, sparking smoky plumes -
summer’s perfume in every backyard.

There is no rare or medium, it is all
well done. The only acceptable patty
has been thoroughly charred,
infused with polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons.

This gathering by the communal fire
satisfies an ancient, primal desire
a celebration of provision and unity.
Once, a rejoicing in the kill
still an opportunity to fill
bellies and hearts with family
and burnt burgers.
September 30, 2024 at 3:02pm
September 30, 2024 at 3:02pm
#1077504
pane-ful obsession


her tail flicks, a wild instinctive rhythm
eyes fixed upon bustling birds
the cat at the window




Written for Promptly Poetry "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)

Week 8 - Form - the Kimo

The Kimo is the Israeli version of the Japanese Haiku.

Content: like haiku, usually image-specific and acts as a still life,
or snapshot, of a single moment

Form: made up of a single stanza of three lines

Syllable Count:
[Line 1] 10 syllables
[Line 2] 7 syllables
[Line 3] 6 syllables
September 28, 2024 at 6:19am
September 28, 2024 at 6:19am
#1077376
It might have been September
it was that kind of fall rain
a silver curtain over the window
a gentle rhythm tapping on the panes
murmuring in the leaf-clogged gutters
a distant song faintly playing in my memory
for which there were no words
beyond the refrain:
“Monday, Monday”.
I couldn’t get warm,
the kettle whistled for me
to make another cup of tea.
I grasped the pen in desperation
and inked the words into the book
before they could leave me.


Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)

Prompt:

Use the following words in your poem:
Monday, fall, tea, book
September 21, 2024 at 7:45am
September 21, 2024 at 7:45am
#1077067
a pot of tea, Earl Grey
and a rash of strings
to start the day

the hushed voice of public radio

then a symphony of spring
lashes at the windows
with gusty spray

and the exuberance of Vivaldi

the willow bends and weeps
the tears roll off her cheeks
as if she earnestly prays


a fierce season is the rain

colors, newly bloomed
are shaken from the trees
for green must have her way


Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)

Week 6 Prompt -- a rainy day
September 14, 2024 at 7:11am
September 14, 2024 at 7:11am
#1076771
Trekking in a dense boreal forest
surrounded by majestic shadows,
enveloped in the perfume of pine
yet isolated in the shadowy damp,
I came upon them.
The call of morning was a lilting whistle
it drove away the hauntings of the night
those booming howls one to another
of community or warning?
I could not say.
Enough though,
to make me ponder my discovery.
Upon a bed of fallen leaves
royal in their red and golden hues
a pair of ghost pumpkins sat.
Were they an elaborate interior design
by some reclusive, naturalist master
or set as watchmen in the bewitched wood
by some Fortean denizens?
No matter, I understood.
I was unwelcome here.



Charles Hoy Fort (August 6, 1874 – May 3, 1932) was an American writer and researcher who specialized in anomalous phenomena. The terms "Fortean" and "Forteana" are sometimes used to characterize various such phenomena.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Fort

Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)

Prompt - an image of white pumpkins on a bed of colorful foliage in a forest setting
August 31, 2024 at 4:21pm
August 31, 2024 at 4:21pm
#1075969
Every story starts with a dream
and a sharpened pencil,
a prompt to prod the imagination
that releases its potential.

Every writer needs that blank page
his dreams to relate,
a place to inscribe his plotlines
and the people he creates.

And so it was twenty four years ago
this website came to be,
created just for writers
And called WDC.

A Master and a Mistress,
here are the guardians,
where storytellers and poets
both find their audience.


Prompt/Week # 4


It's WdC's 24th Birthday Week!!!
Write a celebratory birthday poem to WdC.
August 31, 2024 at 9:59am
August 31, 2024 at 9:59am
#1075951
The tired leaves are dull and worn
Their colors faded, edges torn.
Gone is the tender green of spring
Yet to their branches they do cling.
Stiff August breathed no mercy, but September grieves,
From summer’s grace are they fallen, the tired leaves.

The naked trees, once so well-dressed
Now stand exposed in their distress,
Callused hands, grey, bare-fisted,
Crooked fingers in prayer twisted.
These doleful supplications must nature appease,
For in bridal lace, winter drapes the naked trees.


Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2024-2025)

Week 3

The Wrapped Refrain, created by Jan Turner, consists of 2 or more stanzas of 6 lines each;
Meter: 8,8,8,8,12,12 and Rhyme Scheme: a,a,b,b,c,c.

Refrain rule: In each stanza, the first 4 syllables (or 4 single-syllable words) in the first line must be the last 4 syllables (or 4 single-syllable words) at the end of the last line.

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