Today’s prompt:

Incorporate these words into a poem: hollow, calamity, moonlight, summer, fire

Post your poem to comments!

Please 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. Remember that work shared this month is shared in precisely that spirit: sharing, as opposed to critiquing.


Posted on April 2, 2017, in NaPoWriMo, Writing Prompt. Bookmark the permalink. 12 Comments.

  1. Written from the point of view of Juliet from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet:

    Sitting beside a raging summer fire,
    Feeling the flames tap my hollow heart,
    How can one have such desire,
    For her soul’s counterpart?
    Longing under the moonlight to be complete,
    A completeness that from such calamity will not come,
    Crossing the line between Capulet and Montague is thorny feat,
    Our love would be the beating of a war drum.
    So beat the drum shall because love conquers all,
    Our love could bind the families divided,
    So for him I’ll call,
    And with love I’ve sided.

  2. What I remember (by Grace)

    what i remember now was the
    suffocating heat of summer.
    it stuffed itself into every inch
    that stretched between us.
    it robbed me of my freedom,
    trapped me inside wooden walls
    the machined air blasting
    at full speed to wash it out.

    what i remember next
    was the moonlight,
    how it graced its shine
    against the rich violet
    and how it followed me
    as i ran through trees,
    steady and solid, unlike
    my sanity.

    when heat dropped to freezing,
    and your jacket was warmer
    than the large fire we sat
    around, and my naivety was
    the stimulation to an agonizing
    month-long waste of time.

    when our words evolved from
    sweet pursuance to familiar
    conversation, and i sunk
    deeper; my hollow desire
    to be loved now over-flowing
    as we walked upon shifting
    sand, hand vainly in hand.

    when our words evolved from
    familiar conversation to constant
    calamities, building up barricades,
    loading ammunition and firing off
    rounds of accusations, with fear
    solidifying inside me, weighing me

    when we parted ways,
    i bloodied and
    you eager to run.

    what i remember was the
    sharp loneliness,
    aching and shaking,
    floods of tears.

    you held a numb expression
    that recalled no memory of
    me and you.

    and what i remember most is
    when we walked away from that summer

    I was someone else.

    You were the same.

  3. Disclaimer: Poem does not follow prompt.

    She watches the world through
    her rose-colored glasses.
    How the waves caress the shore
    in a constant melody
    and leave a new pattern on the sand
    each time they recede.
    How the sun falls beneath the horizon
    and cast vibrant shades of orange and red
    across the once cerulean blue water.
    How seagulls sing and dance in the fiery sky, skimming the water as day fades into night.
    And maybe she’s missing how the waves
    are really crashing into the earth,
    threatening to drown those
    coming too near to the waters edge.
    How the sun is blazing and inducing burns
    on all who fall under its rays.
    How the seagulls are actually crying
    and swooping low to catch
    their vulnerable prey in the sea.
    But perhaps her reality is better.
    Maybe beauty is all perspective.
    And we really should all be wearing
    her rose-colored glasses.

  4. This isn’t related to the prompt, but here’s my poem for Day 2 of NANPO:

    They tear me down
    (“You can’t do it!)
    At me they roll their eyes
    (“How does she think she can?”)
    But I ignore their insults,
    I rise
    I rise
    I rise.


  5. Mary-Kelly R.

    They say the the past is gone and dead
    Yet still remains this calamity in my head
    Even the beauty of a summer morning
    Cannot refill this hollow hole within my chest
    A fire burns without a word or warning
    Perhaps this life is just simply a test
    Yet how does the moonlight shine even in the dark?
    When black floods the sky
    Like the moon I will make my mark
    Even with doubt hovering nearby.

  6. Brianna Miles

    (This is unrelated to the prompt, so no need to go through a word-finder game in this poem. Also, it is all over the place because my mind is not in a good state of mind for writing, it seems.)

    Today I flew.

    No, that’s wrong.
    Certainly I plummeted,
    Having thrown myself from the tallest cliff,
    Betraying my life,
    Abandoning sanity,
    To be with him.

    How the wind roared
    In that calm night
    When he asked me to be eternally his,
    And I said yes,
    And he held me,
    And I held him.

    Those last moments,
    Before we became one,
    When I was still “Miss Jones,” not “Mrs.,”
    That woman died.
    She killed herself
    So Mrs. could be born.

    Yes, born anew
    Out of love and death,
    This young identity of a woman, a bride.
    The other one fell,
    Out of love and trust,
    And was gone.

    But what was left
    Of that other girl
    He caught, and made a blushing “Mrs.,”
    Breathless and smiling,
    With a heart so full of love
    That the other was not missed.

  7. Deep within my heart,
    I feel the love for the summer.
    Not the daytime summer,
    But the nighttime summer.
    When the fireflies come out to play,
    When the stars and planets shine overhead,
    When nature gives us sounds of crickets and owls
    The moonlight still shines over our large fire
    The moonlight is soft, gentle
    As if it is trying to comfort you,
    While trying not to scare you off
    Through the calamities of life,
    I can count on the moonlight to calm me down.
    How hollow I usually feel
    Is not portrayed when I am in the wilderness
    I feel, happy, content… at home.

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