Dead Too Soon (a Collum lune)

Love letters straight from your heart

an unsealed envelope
addressed to a valentine gone
gathers dust, unsent


For today’s prompt, write an elegy. An elegy doesn’t have specific formal rules. Rather, it’s a poem for someone who has died. In fact, elegies are defined as “love poems for the dead” in John Drury’s The Poetry Dictionary. Of course, we’re all poets here, which means everything can be bent. So yes, it’s perfectly fine if you take this another direction–for instance, I once wrote an elegy for card catalogs. Have at it!


The lune is also known as the American Haiku. It was first created by the poet Robert Kelly (truly a great poet) and was a result of Kelly’s frustration with English haiku. After much experimentation, he settled on a 13-syllable, self-contained poem that has 5 syllables in the first line, 3 syllables in the second line and 5 syllable in the final line.


Love Arriving, Love Leaving


Your love came in like a lamb:
light-footed, and playful
curled against me for warmth
all tangled and matted wool

Your love went out like a lion:
roaring and breaking windows
angry at such a deep wound.
No, wait — that was me.

That was my passion, spilling out
staining the bedding with tears
and the floor with blood.
Your love went out, like it came in.


For today’s prompt, we actually have a Two-for-Tuesday prompt:

Write a love poem. Love, it’s such a big 4-letter word that can mean so much to so many for a variety of interpretations. Friendly love, sexual love, dorky love, all-encompassing love, jealous love, anxious love, love beaten with a baseball bat, hot love, big love, blues love, greeting card love, forgiving love, greedy love, love in a music video, and so on and so forth.

Write an anti-love poem. Well, kinda like love, but take it back the other way.


If I were a Carousel Horse (a triversen)


If I were a carousel horse
spinning through a warm summer night,
I would loose my bolts and take flight.

I would nicker to the crickets,
and run just to hear my hoof-beats
keep time with their evening singsong.

If I were a gilded pony,
racing sisters in wide circles,
I’d cut free my bedecked harness.

As the night wind shrilly whistled,
I’d call to those painted sisters,
and we’d race the stars for the moon.

If I were a horse with wings, I’d
mount the night clouds and take flight,
chasing after burning comets.

I would leave that circling circus
carousel to turn alone,
riderless and horseless, too.


For today’s prompt, take the phrase “If I Were (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Possible titles might include: “If I Were President,” “If I Were Smarter,” “If I Were a Little More Sensitive,” or “If I Were Born on April 14.” If I were you, I’d get poeming about now.


The Triversen is poetic form developed by William Carlos Williams.

The Rules:
Each stanza equals one sentence.
Each sentence/stanza breaks into 3 lines (each line is a separate phrase in the sentence).
There is a variable foot of 2-4 beats per line.
The poem as a whole should add up to 18 lines (or 6 stanzas).


Raven’s Flight (a sestina)


I just want to stretch my wings
and float on the air of the night.
Here I stand, face to the moon
wishing I were more clever,
and could find my way to freedom —
a flight to carry me past the trees.

You make your throne in this tree,
sit majestic with ebony wings.
You wear the mantle of freedom
and rule the skies of the night.
No other creature so clever
lives under the silver moon.

I spy a girl’s face in the moon,
as I lean into your great tree.
Her smile is wicked and clever,
and I long for ebony wings —
so I could fly beyond this night,
and whisper to her of my freedom.

I have always admired your freedom,
your silhouette before the moon.
Your feathers as dark as this night,
I barely see, perched in this tree.
Stretch your beautiful black wings.
I hope I’m at least half as clever,

as you, sister raven, so clever.
All others will stretch their wings,
join in the flying dance of freedom,
beneath this night’s full moon.
Alone, I will sit at this tree
my face turned up to the night.

I’ll sit beside the black night,
with toes tapping to melody, clever,
at the base of celebration tree.
While night creatures toast their freedom,
beneath this night’s full moon,
I’ll fall asleep imagining my wings.

Dreaming of great wide wings, black as the air of night,
I’ll climb to my sister the moon, whispering secrets so clever.
She’ll speak the spell of freedom; I’ll take flight from this tree.


For today’s prompt, write an animal poem. Pick a specific animal or write about your animal spirit. Maybe you’ll get tricky and write about mustangs (meaning the car) or jaguars (meaning the American football team). Maybe you’ll do an acrostic, or even go crazy and write a sestina (crickets).


Sestina: You pick 6 words, rotate them as the end words in 6 stanzas and then include 2 per of the words per line in your final stanza.


Night Air (a Quatern)


That’s the night air in the city
tastes like remorse mixed with regret.
When you can’t see stars for neon
glow of traffic, just forget it.

When the moon as pale as smoke is,
that’s the night air in the city.
Caterpillar blows his smoke rings,
questions floating, “Just who are you?”

Sounds like bike tires on the sidewalk,
swishing, swishing, just a whisper.
That’s the night air in the city,
filling your ears with nothing new.

Turn the corner, follow footsteps,
She’s the rabbit in a white dress,
always slipping out of your sight.
That’s the night air in the city.


Prompt #12 of the April 2014 Writer’s Digest Poem-A-Day Challenge

For today’s prompt, write a city poem. The poem can take place in a city, can remember the city (in a general sense), be an ode to a specific city, or well, you should know the drill by now. City poem: Write it!


Quatern Poetic Form Rules
1.This poem has 16 lines broken up into 4 quatrains (or 4-line stanzas).
2.Each line is comprised of eight syllables.
3.The first line is the refrain. In the second stanza, the refrain appears in the second line; in the third stanza, the third line; in the fourth stanza, the fourth (and final) line.
4.There are no rules for rhyming or iambics.


Just Go (A Chant)


For months I’ve held your place.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.
I trusted the hope in your face.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.

You’ve kept me here on a string.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.
You’re protecting me from the sting.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.

You just couldn’t face hurting me.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.
While bending to another’s decree.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.

You hid the truth in your silence.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.
You covered up reality’s violence.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.

You’ve never had the strength.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.
So you held me at great length.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.

She took matters into her hands.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.
Cut me deep, so I’d understand.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.

Still, you cannot speak what’s true.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.
You chose, and our future is through.
Just go. Just — go, please. Go.

Prompt #11 of the April 2014 Writer’s Digest Poem-A-Day Challenge

For today’s prompt, make a statement the title of your poem and either respond to or expand upon the title. Some example titles might include: “A Date Which Will Live in Infamy;” “Guns Don’t Kill People, I Do;” “This Is Your Brain on Drugs;” “Smile for the Camera,” and “Be Kind Rewind.” Of course, there’s an incredible number of possible titles; pick one and start poeming!

The chant poem is about as old as poetry itself. In fact, it may be the first form poetry took. Chant poems simply incorporate repetitive lines that form a sort of chant. Each line can repeat, or every other line. It’s easy to find many poetic forms that incorporate chanting with the use of a refrain. However, a chant poem is a little more methodical than a triolet or rondeau.


Not Now (a Lai)


Tomorrow I’ll smile,
like it’s out of style.
I vow.
Though my heart breaks, I’ll
be quite versatile,
but how?
Can’t I rest here, while
tears proclaim my trial?
Not now.

Prompt #10 of the April 2014 Writer’s Digest Poem-A-Day Challenge

For today’s prompt, write a future poem. The future might mean robots and computer chips. The future might mean apocalyptic catastrophes. The future might mean peace and understanding. The future might mean 1,000 years into the future; it might mean tomorrow (or next month). I forecast several poems in the near future to be shared below

The lai is another French form. It’s a nine-line poem or stanza that uses an “a” and “b” rhyme following this pattern: aabaabaab. The lines with an “a” rhyme use 5 syllables; the “b” rhyme lines have 2 syllables. It feels kind of like organized skeltonic verse.




The plaster cracks,
as the wind pulls upward —
roaring like a great hungry beast.

He claws at the boards,
the screeching of nails
fills the air as though
he’s tearing  a walnut shell.

He wants to reach inside,
grasp the meat,
dig it out and roll it ’round
in his teeth-filled mouth.

But he is famished;
his strength is waning.

Perhaps, if we hold a bit
of him inside our lungs,
he’ll tire and let go.

Maybe this shell will hold
and we will still find
our shelter inside.

Prompt #9 of the April 2014 Writer’s Digest Poem-A-Day Challenge

For today’s prompt, write a shelter poem. Shelter might be a structure like a house, apartment, or hotel. Shelter could be a tent or cardboard box. Shelter could be an umbrella, overpass, cave, or car. Shelter could be a state of mind, part of a money laundering scheme, or any number of interpretations.

Link to the prompt:

The Eye of the Storm


You might think I’d rage in my grief,
and cry till I shook like a leaf.
Although it won’t show,
and no one may know,
today, all I feel is relief.



Prompt #8 of the April 2014 Writer’s Digest Poem-A-Day Challenge

Today is a Tuesday, so two prompts:

  • Write a violent poem. Could be person on person violence, person on animal, animal on animal, nature on person/animal/nature, and so on (insects, erosion, cosmos, etc.).
  • Write a peaceful poem. I suppose this might be the opposite of a violent poem. But perhaps not.

The poetic form is limerick:

Typically, the first two lines rhyme with each other, the third and fourth rhyme together, and the fifth line either repeats the first line or rhymes with it. The limerick’s anapestic rhythm is created by an accentual pattern that contains many sets of double weakly-stressed syllables. The pattern can be illustrated with dashes denoting weak syllables, and back-slashes for stresses:

1) – / – – / – – /
2) – / – – / – – /
3) – / – – /
4) – / – – /
5) – / – – / – – /

See more at:

Link to the prompt:

Me, Myself and I



I wear my heart upon my sleeve.
If I could have one wish, I’d fly.
I dance for joy and fiercely grieve.
I wear my heart upon my sleeve.
I’m quick to laugh, and quick I cry.
In fairy tales I do believe.
I wear my heart upon my sleeve.
If I could have one wish, I’d fly.


Prompt #7 of the April 2014 Writer’s Digest Poem-A-Day Challenge

“For today’s prompt, write a self-portrait poem. Pretty straightforward, right? That doesn’t mean there’s not a lot of room for creativity. Just look at artists and their self-portraits; there’s a lot of differences in the self-portraits of Kahlo, Schiele, Dali, Van Gogh, and others–and not just because the artists look different themselves.”


The poetic form is a triolet:

The triolet is a short poem of eight lines with only two rhymes used throughout. The requirements of this fixed form are straightforward: the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines; the second line is repeated in the final line; and only the first two end-words are used to complete the tight rhyme scheme. Thus, the poet writes only five original lines, giving the triolet a deceptively simple appearance: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines. – See more at:


Link to the prompt: