I've got another prompt. It's pretty simple, and I hope you'll take the time to write your own version, as that's the point of it.
The day, sunny this morning, has turned cold and dreary, like any good holiday in the city. No snow here, though. I doubt half the residents even know the word. There's been such little communication from outside cities for so long that knowledge of other climates has passed beyond common knowledge. I know what it is because Tessian, Nemus's father, took it into his head to give all of us orphans what he considered a proper education. From him, I know that snow used to be expected on this holiday, though even the holiday's name has been lost to time. People still celebrate, though.
This is a poem from the perspective of a baby's crib.
WARNING: Profanity/Vulgar Language
This poem came to me while I was helping a friend edit their book. It took some exploration of the idea, honing what it was I wanted to say, but ultimately it fit into a project I had already started. I’m writing a poetry collection exploring the different ways people view or experience death. Each…
Poem about a runaway that plays off the Red Riding Hood story.
This is a short short story about a young girl who runs away from her abuser.
I had just rediscovered the beauty of rhyming poetry, and I wasn't sure what to do with it or myself except come up with line after line after line in hopes of finding one that might be worthy or unworthy enough to become a poem.
Monday--a poem about being sick.
It's another poem. It’s short. Go on and read it. :)
About a tree and a lamppost.*
*Personification was used in the making of this poem.
The mind is a dangerous place.
A prompt for the summer season.