A poem-a-day for National Poetry Month

Prompt #29: Free Day

Today is a free day! Go write that poem that’s been lying in wait. Or use one of the prompts that you had to skip previously. Or just start something deliciously, gloriously new!


Reminders for Participants: You can post your poem below in the comments, offer a link back to your site where the poem is posted, or comment about the experience of writing the poem (without actually posting the poem). If you’re going to comment on other participant’s poems, please remember that this is not a critique space — comments should be kept thoughtful and supportive. Lastly, remember you don’t have to use the prompt to write your poem — they’re here for your inspiration but they’re certainly not a requirement.

Let the Wild Poeming Being!

13 responses

  1. Jennifer P-W.


    Have you ever noticed
    how your eyes go when you’re angry?
    The lower part scissors like that,lifts,
    lids crinch together
    tight as nails in the corners,
    brows angled into sawblades.
    Bullets of scorn, contempt
    shoot out at me like stinging ants.

    LOOK at me. Look at ME.
    Let eyes go soft as petals,
    calm as twin moons.
    Life is too sharp already,
    and broadcasting hate is
    so much work.

    J. Pratt-Walter

    April 28, 2011 at 8:58 pm

  2. Pingback: Fenceline « Tony Linde

  3. Mine for today follows a passage in a book I was reading last night:

    April 29, 2011 at 8:07 am

  4. dorlamoorehouse

    A haiku: http://dorlamoorehouse.com/2011/04/29/napowrimo-day-29-3/

    April 29, 2011 at 12:12 pm

  5. I have a few drafts I’m still slowly working over, but this week also has worked me over. The Big Tent bad idea prompt felt right.

    tomorrow’s still there
    as is the day after and
    after it waking
    is soundling somewhat pointless
    when our bed is so comfy


    April 29, 2011 at 12:24 pm

  6. Bill Noble

    This should, by rights, be dedicated to Shanna.


    The tall lady in the knee-length llama cardigan
    is reading a bodice-ripper, moving her lips.
    The guy with the ivy-league tie is flashing his iPad
    and rattling Barron’s. The hollow man
    carrying two day’s growth sits perfectly still,
    hands locked around his warm cup. Here come
    two blondes with brief cases, ordering caramel lattes
    and kidding the barista about his blush.
    The pillow-bosomed barista knows that every time
    she brushes against him at the register
    she gives him a hard-on; the caramel-lattes
    are in on the joke. A Safeway truck goes by,
    a cop car, three Priuses. The sun goes behind a cloud
    but caffeine is everybody’s priority. Nobody wants
    the bags of day-old bagels. It’s exactly 10:07 am
    as the blush fades, the dog-eared book closes,
    and perfect lips begin to suck the foam from lattes.

    April 29, 2011 at 12:46 pm

    • Omg. It’s like Portland in a poem 🙂

      April 29, 2011 at 1:23 pm

  7. Silly form. I had to try it again.


    April 29, 2011 at 1:39 pm

  8. Thoughts on a Royal Wedding

    Sunlight and flowers
    Invited and crowds
    Spit polish and shine
    Silk and jewels
    Precision and timing

    Don’t you feel that tear,
    that little catch, at their joy?

    They seem so happy
    no matter how nervous.
    They balance on the familiar
    The touch of hands, the look,
    the intimate smile.

    So my friendly witness from afar
    of this stately wedding –
    who gains more?
    My kind wishes to them
    or for me, their hopeful happiness.

    I can think for them –
    stay open to love, be kind,
    sing for each other.
    Or is that message from them
    to me?

    Mary Beth Frezon 29 April 2011

    April 29, 2011 at 7:03 pm

  9. Pingback: National Poetry Month Day 29

  10. High above the heads of the British, vaulting with saber in hand
    The commoner makes the crowd skittish
    Forcing the Royal Wedding party to disband
    High above the heads of the British

    Flying through the ranks, deft and impish
    Alas, Prince Charles decides to make a stand
    And draws against the intruder, toward the finish

    Prince Chuck had schooling, but his lunge is bland
    An off-scooped head is his diminish
    The stranger, declared King, is exalted by the law of the land
    High above the heads of the British

    April 29, 2011 at 10:33 pm

    • Nice one, Bryan 🙂

      April 29, 2011 at 11:59 pm

  11. Greg Cameron


    smell of booze

    table a clutter of

    beer bottles,

    crumpled-up napkins,


    dirty dishes

    Rolling Stones records

    by the stereo

    the smell of apples

    heavy in the air

    everyone sleeping it off

    guests in the basement,

    one snoring World War Three

    kids still awake

    one gets up,

    tries to take a pee,

    misses the

    toilet bowl

    the wife is dreaming of

    another man

    the husband of

    another woman

    the neighbour’s dog

    is barking

    the moon smiles

    on the front lawn

    catching a stray

    beer bottle

    just so

    car tracks all over the lawn

    old hubcaps

    apples spread out

    in a delicious mass

    behind the house

    just beyond the balcony

    waiting for the right


    to tease them


    (Greg Cameron, Poem, May, 2011, Surrey, B.C., Canada)

    May 19, 2011 at 10:29 am