Today’s prompt:

Write a poem about something that made you angry today.

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 16, 2017, in NaPoWriMo. Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. Alas, I have not been angered as of yet, so I must choose a different prompt.

    My grandmother once told me,
    In the way she usually does,
    That even angels from heaven flee,
    Even celestial things have flaws.

    I would never fully understand her words,
    Not until she left to join those angels,
    Her soul with freedom like that of a bird’s,
    Our hearts with grief that tangled.

    I was left to go through her old things.
    Slow and nostalgic did I sort her mice,
    With tears and a heavy heart her rings.
    Her old belongings I had to give a price.

    Then I came to her aged wardrobe,
    Filled to the brim with who-knows-what.
    She always told us to never probe,
    That inside was a rather messy lot.

    Occasionally she would be caught
    In her little wardrobe, door open,
    Apparently deep in her own thoughts,
    Not a word spoken, eyeing a token.

    As I turned her little key inside the lock,
    I wondered what from us she hid.
    Perhaps old pictures, or an honorable plaque?
    Maybe sweet letters they shared as kids?

    As those doors swung away and revealed,
    And papers went flying in every direction,
    A single packet tied neatly seemed to yield
    To other around a kind of affection.

    These were letter I sound found out,
    With loving words and gentle promises,
    But though to my grandmother I was devout,
    I was disgusted by the lack of Thomases.

    Every paper was signed by a different man,
    The dates aligned with the time of her marriage.
    It seemed my grandfather might be a mailman,
    And forever I would be stuck with that knowledge.

    So my grandmother simply meant,
    All those years ago,
    That though she would maintain her assent,
    She was, in youth, somewhat of a fiasco.

  2. *Unrelated to prompt*

    Where is the magic?
    Is it behind that tree?
    Where is the magic?
    Has it always been there next to me?
    Where is the magic?
    Stuck between two books on a shelf?
    Where is the magic?
    Is it where there is no one else?
    Where is the magic?
    In a plastic bag drifting on the street?
    Where is the magic?
    It seems like something so sweet.

  3. Note: Unrelated to prompt. This is my version of the chorus to the song ‘If I Die Young’ by The Band Perry

    If I die young,
    Take me where my mother be
    Lay me down in the roots of an old tree
    Let the rain pour over me
    Send me away to the sound of a raging sea

  4. (Today has actually been pretty great so far so I’m gonna use a different prompt, but I will most likely use this prompt in the future since I really like it)

    A lonely violin
    Can still be played without an orchestra
    And a drum
    Can still move a beat in silence,

    A child
    Cries at the sound of other cries
    Because its empathy
    Reigns above all,

    A man
    Can fall in love with a woman
    Even though the stereotype
    Tends to be flipped,

    And a wish
    Can still be granted
    Even without
    A genie in a lamp.

  5. Michelle Beaumont

    I felt nothing.
    and the therapist told me.
    Told me.
    therapist told me..
    there is no purpose in the world.

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