Here’s today’s prompt if you want to have a go at it. It looks like a fun one to me. Maybe I’ll write “11:45PM”. The first line will read “I learned how to make a phone call”.

For today’s prompt, write a time of day poem.  In fact, make the title of your poem the time of day.  For instance, “5:54 a.m.,” 2:23 p.m.,” “Midnight,” etc.  Then, write your poem.  Of course, different things happen at different times of day.  So have fun with it.

For today’s prompt, do one of the following:

1. Write a goofy poem.
2. Write a serious poem.

Of course, I see the possibility for writing a seriously goofy poem and writing a serious poem with a little goofy thrown into the mix. I’m excited to see what kind of silly things may transpire the next 24 hours, and I’m interested in all the straight-faced poems as well.

What a full day. I took a few minutes this morning and wrote an especially dumb poem. I’m almost ashamed to post it. No, I AM ashamed to post it. And yet, here I go.

Shadow’s Farting:
Our
sweet
old
worried
gassy
Shadow
an
echo
in
our
wakes
our
furry
farting
sweet
old
Shadow
dumps
us
as
soon
as the
weather
breaks

The volunteer’s daughter:

6 PM he is paged to dispatch at the station
Midnight to a smoke investigation
2AM it’s a medical emergency
someone’s child is choking
3AM I’m awakened
by my father’s arms around me -
I know another child has died.

For today’s prompt, pick a type of person and write a poem about him or her. To help set the scene, you may want to title your poem as who the type of person is. For instance, you could write a poem titled “Firefighter,” “Cynic,” “Optimist,” “Teacher,” “2-year-old,” etc. The list is endless.

I’m really enjoying these prompts, I’ve never tried to write like this. It’s like opening a new toy every morning and seeing if I can figure out how to play with it.

I think if I look at these poems as sketches I’m able to free myself up a bit. Think little place holders for ideas that might grow into a completed poem at some point.

If you write something, do share your poem with me. I encourage you to go to Poetics Asides and read all the other prompt poems being created and post your own words there as well!

BOO WEARS A TINFOIL HAT:
She hears my voice
but doesn’t know who’s talking.
Boo speaks in seven languages
but dreams of a silent heaven -
Erased are the buffer lines
that hold back imagination
In her head an orchestra
of TV warning crawlers
breaking news and danger talkers
She stock piles bottled water
taps her hat
and suggests I tune
my hound dog’s radio wire.

Here’s what he wrote:

Today’s prompt is to write a poem in which you imagine the world without you. Since my favorite movie (It’s a Wonderful Life) plays with this idea, I’m surprised I’ve never used this prompt before. The world could be a much worse place without you, could be pretty much the same, or I guess, it could even be better. Anyway, it’s interesting to contemplate our individual contributions to this planet in ways small and large.

I was playing with ideas for a poem earlier today but came up empty handed so far. Do I want to imagine that I was never born, or just went up in a poof of smoke yesterday…maybe something in-between? I’m thinking I’ll try imagining the world without the me that I have become. Hmmmm…

If I get lucky, I’ll have something to post before I go to bed. What do you come up with using this prompt?

Robert’s challenge reads:

For today’s prompt, write a postcard poem. Make it brief and communicate what it is like where you are. Also, make it personal. My poem is on the way, but I am having trouble producing line breaks with my smart phone. In the meantime, get poeming.

A Postcard from St. Joe’s

I wasn’t scheduled to arrive here
but the surgeon pointed me in this direction.
It will take a bit of getting used to
I’m not sure yet how to travel under
such strange and new conditions.

Your turn. Let’s see what you can do with Robert’s prompt.

So welcome to my treehouse. You’re welcome to come in and hang out and be yourself here. You’re ideas don’t have to be completely formed to be worth mentioning. A poem can be one hot line you want to build something around. A story idea can be just that, an idea. Here grammar is not king and you don’t have to know what the ending is before you begin.

I didn’t sleep through k-12 but I struggled. It would be years after public school that I would get my first pair of low vision reading glasses. I had a learning disability and was told I had ADD. So here I am at 46, a poor speller, with a Fundamentals of Grammar book in one hand and my laptop in the other. I don’t know how to write fiction. I don’t know how to tell a good story. But I’m going to find out if I can learn.

I have been saying I’m writing a non-fiction book for nearly 3 years and have about 12 first chapters and reams of uncategorized ramblings. As much as I would like to write that book I think I want it to write itself. I’ve lost my way and my enthusiasm for it. I am pretty sure it would be an okay book. Maybe even good one. When I sit down to work on it, however, it feels like learning a language I don’t want to speak. At least it does right now.

I need to lube my joints. I miss making something from nothing or something from something else. In my visual arts I build stories out of objects. I want to see if I can learn to build stories out of words. So I’m going to try.

First lesson: Write. I’m working my way through the book Immediate Fiction, by Jerry Cleaver. Today I learned that you’ve gotta make your characters suffer. A lot. And then see how they deal with all the trouble you keep tossing in their way. Seems so mean. Do I conger an amalgam of a few people that have rubbed me the wrong way and sic the dogs on them? That might actually be kind of fun. Then there’s the idea that if I design this Franken-fuck do I want to spend all my writing time with them? I get ahead of myself.

I’m doing the exercise on page 38 (of my addition of the book) where Cleaver has given a few scene ideas to see what I can do with it. The scene I’ve chosen to try is:

“Trapped on a ski lift, on an airplane, or in a taxi with someone who starts talking or acting strange. The want is to be left alone, to be at peace to e safe. The obstacle is this weird person who is acting strange and maybe is dangerous. “

Earlier in this chapter the author explains that the character has to have a want and an obstacle. (hope I’m explaining this right). A big want, not just a want like “I’m thinking I want some chocolate milk.” More like “if I don’t get the hell out of this cab this wack-job with the bang-the-ho music jacked-up is going to do something really freaky that if I live to tell about it will damage me for..ever” want. The obstacle is the wack-job of a drive who has a want just as big as the characters. That’s all I know so far. I’m going to try and write a scene. My character is trapped in the taxi. Wish them luck because if I do this right, it’s going to get ugly.