Today’s prompt:

Write a poem about warmth. Any kind of poem about the warmth of the sun, how sweaty the cat on your leg is making you, the heat that wafts out of the oven when you go to check on your pizza…

Post your poem to comments!

Read the NaPoWriMo page for details on how the challenge works and how you can participate this month, no matter what your personal writing challenge is for the month of April.

Please read How to Post during NaPoWriMo to find out how the prompt posts work. Remember that work shared this month is shared in precisely that spirit: sharing, as opposed to critiquing.


Posted on April 19, 2015, in NaPoWriMo. Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.

  1. It’s so hot and clammy!
    Florida is too humid!
    My fan is broken,
    I think I’m going to die.
    I’m in a tank top and shorts
    And an ice pack too.
    So why am I so hot?
    Do you feel it too?
    I think I have a sunburn
    Or maybe a fever
    But either one
    Will definitely kill me.
    I need a cold shower
    Or a glass of water.
    Cause today getting hotter
    I can feel it….

    • Hailey Elizabeth

      ermergerd, Jillie!!!! #ugh #thestruggle #thestruggleisreal omg! this is gold!!! loved this poem!

  2. Beads of sweat drip down my chin,
    It makes me frown, I just can’t grin.
    Some call it warmth,
    But I call it HEAT.

    The sun beats down upon my face,
    I can’t find any cooler place.
    Some call it warmth,
    But I call it HEAT.

    Chugging bottle after bottle,
    I feel like I’m being throttled.
    Some call it warmth,
    But I call it HEAT.

    In Florida I’m forced to dwell,
    It feels just like a prison cell.
    Some call it warmth,
    But I call it HEAT.

    How will I remain alive?
    I’m not sure if I can survive!
    Some call it warmth,
    But I call it HEAT.

  3. It is 60 degrees outside,
    Or so my thermometer says
    To me, sweat is not a sign of cold,
    But I’m no weather whiz

    I step outside, it’s snowing
    Or so my eyes say
    It feels like drops of fire
    Or one big sunshine ray

    The wind starts to howl,
    Or so my ears say
    It feels like I’m in the flames,
    And my vision is going gray

    The ice around me melts,
    Into a big tsunami,
    I am swallowed by the cold,
    But the heat still burns inside me

  4. Hailey Elizabeth


    The holding of a hand
    Makes your palm sweaty

    The hugging of a friend
    Makes you feel pretty

    That last feeling of loneliness
    Is what keeps me alive

    The feeling I get of anger and rage
    Will very soon subside

    For I know the feeling of warmth
    On a cold winter night

    I can tell you what it feels like
    To have a sip of hot coco

    I know where to go
    When my room is too cold

    For I have dear loved ones
    Unlike those that… don’t

    Warmth is not a feeling of temperature
    For it is a feeling of love, a lasting impression

    Warmth is Love
    Love is Warmth

    They go hand-in-hand
    Like the hugging of a close friend

  5. The glass,
    I put it into the embellished appliance and set the timer to 1:00.
    The radiating heat blows off the shelves and surrounds the room.

    Time is up!
    I clunk open the appliance and hostler my hand around the glass,
    it’s tiny atoms emanating into my cold fingers, like a cozy blanket.

    I shake the two packets of dry brown dust and inhale a sweet scent of winter,
    I pour the make-shift drink in my glass and watch the warm water encompass the brown.

    Fluffy white clouds lay atop my glass, adding to the warmth, keeping the tender heat inside the sweet-scented glass.
    I wrap up in a blanket,
    It’s fuzz and pillowing puff engulf all sides of me as I cuddle the glass.

    I take a sip of the substance,
    I feel a toasty chocolate flavor fill my tummy and it begins to make my whole body swelter with warmth.

    Nothin’ like a warm glass to have on a frigid night.

  6. I feel my heart start to crumble,
    as I stare down at their faces.
    They look back up at me,
    eyes as hard as stone.
    Their clothes are rags.
    Their faces are filthy.
    They’re as thin and stiff as sticks.
    But as I gaze at them,
    I see the fire in their eyes.
    And I see something else,
    that others fail to notice.
    Beneath those raggedy clothes,
    I see hearts longing for freedom.
    Beneath those smudged faces,
    I see jaws set in determination.
    While they are poor,
    and filthy,
    and hungry,
    one thing keeps them going:
    Hope for a free country.
    Hope for a free life.
    Hope for a new beginning.
    They are immigrants.
    And as they stare up at me from the faded pages of my textbook,
    I see something more than just travelers.
    I see brave warriors.

    • Hailey Elizabeth

      that’s really good, Savannah. especially with all the war in the world right now. I appreciate this poem! good job!!

  7. Heat blasts on my face
    Instantly fogging my glasses
    Tanning my face
    I step back for a second or two
    Then try again
    The heat is now a whisper
    That still steams my glasses
    So I remove them
    To take out my beloved pizza.

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