scottwoods has been posting poem prompts. Here are a few I’ve done.
PROMPT: Write a poem using the following phrase (or derivation of) somewhere in the poem: The shock alone would have killed him.
Samuel watches Rebecca (that was
her name, right?)
leave in the morning
after six months of sleeping
by himself and as he turns back
toward a hasty breakfast pulled together
from the dregs of the fridge before
having to dress for work he succumbs to relief
that it’s over: the dreamless, powerless
comas he’d strived for all those nights
after his wife left have come to an end.
He leans against the wall numb from the shock.
Alone would have killed him if it had gone on
one night longer.
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PROMPT: Write a poem about: A person who owns a collection they love, but that another person hates.
Under the bed in a box designed for Christmas wrap
he keeps the knives he has adored for years:
the ones his father gave him, the ones he’s bought for himself,
the ones whose origins are now lost to him; the switchblades,
the military blades, all the handiwork of those
who wed beauty to death, who love the play
of form fused to function.
Yes, he tells her. He knows how to use them.
Yes, he says. He has used more than one, and some more than once.
No, he says. He will not say more.
They lie there in the company
of all their secrets. (Everyone knows there are secrets
under every bed.) No one speaks of them
because it’s understood that the where and when
of those secrets is not in play anymore,
or at least right now:
still, he pulls them out from time to time
like a snooping child in early December
who can’t leave his presents alone. He pulls them
out of the box, one by one, when she’s not home.
He tests them against his skin, remembering their history,
visualizing their potential.
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PROMPT: Use the following phrase as the basis for a poem, utilizing as much of its inherent or potential imagery as can be culled from it: world of hurt
We’ve come all the way across the universe
to orbit this planet,
imagining that we will at last be safe here.
When we see that from here it’s as beautiful
as our own world was, the sight
begins to terrify us as we suit up for the landing:
unspoken among us all is the knowledge that
there’s no way to explore other globes
without taking our own
with us.
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PROMPT: First line prompt (or variation thereof): She gives him the finger
She gives him the finger.
He takes it gladly. Some days,
any validation that he is not
invisible
is enough.
Dark Matter 