Poetry Writing Prompts

(Experimental rap story thing, don’t take it so seriously — it’s just practice)

(Hey! Thanks for the feature! 😁 Gotta say, I am a bit shocked! Glad this resonated with you, my friend. Maybe I’ll tidy it up a bit more and throw it in Suno haha)

——

It was late one night

Raining

Cold

I was five

My parents told me everything would be

fine

Parents lie

I was six

I was sick

Homeless a...

years from now

when i’m 6 feet under

and the earth has forgotten my name

when all I am is a collection of bones under a stone

now too faded to tell of my story

when the roots dig into my body

and the insects make nests in my corpse

they will dig into my brain and they will get visions of you

they will see you through my eyes

and love you through my heart

they will feel all that I fel...

(For those who touch what burns them anyway)

I saw the matchstick trembling

between your teeth

before you ever spoke.

That embered grin,

half threat, half prayer,

like smoke curling from a chapel door

still whispering with flame.

You were ruin wrapped in velvet,

a lit fuse in a silk dress.

And I:

I was dry wood in winter,

all longing, no caution.

I didn’t fall for you.

I offered myself willingl...

You held me in your arms.

Silently.

But The silence speaks more than words

Neither of us wanting to let go;

Defiantly.

Your calming breaths.

Setting all my nerves at bay;

Entirely.

I never needed anyone more than you.

Mixed emotions;

Smilingly.

Losing this.

Losing us is what;

Frightens me.

So I’ll wait as long as it takes.

Hold on to this moment;

Patiently....

On a different Tuesday,

my wings work, and so do your eyes.

You catch me in the periphery

of those gleaming trophies,

and you crane your neck to see me:

my straight teeth and small waist,

soft eyes, a girl's face,

smooth legs and clean wrists,

and, for one day, I exist.

You flash your good-guy smile,

make me pink and dizzy,

and I like it, somehow.

I'm stumbling now.

Instead, you catch me

on th...

After a long day,

I open up my bedroom door,

close it,

and lock it.

I tamper with my face a bit,

loosen a few strands,

peel off some layers of cloth,

and take it off.

I open my closet door,

and hang it on an open hook,

with the other ones.

It’s a mask.

They’re all masks.

Masks of my “emotions.”

The ones I can’t express.

When I wake up the next day,

I grab it—

number twenty-six,

the smiling m...

The weekend drags its feet

As I spend my day indoors

Note-taking, Sunbathing

When the sun slips past the door

Five days of cloudless skies

As blue as I feel trapped in here

Working slow to save some time

Under a fluorescent atmosphere

Friday tucks me in at last

And soon I rise from my bed

I open up my curtains and

Rain, rain again...

When the storm comes, my compass always points to—

You.

You’re always there when I’m at my lowest.

The time I broke both my hands,

And you held my spoon up so I could eat.

That time my apartment flooded,

And you let me crash in your house.

When I got laid off from work,

For something I didn’t do,

You took the rest of the day off,

And we went out for drinks.

My first heartbreak,

You threw a bo...

Writing Prompt: May 17 - "We all look the same in the dark."

In the light, we're sharply defined.

Unique.

Each showcasing our own talents and abilities.

In the light, she's an elementary teacher

In the light, he's been changing your oil for the last 5 years

In the light, they're the checkout cashier at your grocery store

In the light, they're your boss, your coworker, your husband, your niece...

A pair of children

Hand in hand

Skipping, tripping,

Through the sand

“A whale, a whale!”

The younger shouts

A rising, splashing, falling spout

The older tugs him towards the road

To the crumbling, humbling home

The two go in, the sun falls down

The sun comes up and two go out

A pair of siblings

Hands awry

Running, fumbling

Down the drive

“A boat, a boat!”

The younger cries

A pu...

Life is like a sharp stick,

Meant for great things,

Like marshmallows,

And pointing at stars,

And poking the fire just enough to make it dance.

You drop a few dreams into the flames here and there,

Burn the edges every now and then,

But oh—

How sweet the middle stays....

Solemnly, he sits in his leather chair as time moves slow and thin, staring at the mantle piece,

The haunted captures have seen him shrivel and bend,

Monotone photographs rest easy on the mantle,

With ghosts for unattended company, and for friends.

He wasn’t there alone. He had his captains, generals, friends.

A collage of suffering that lingers in his home.

He had a job to do so why should h...