It's just poetry, it won't bite


Here’s your prompt! Submit poem responses to: And if you have a photo or piece of artwork you took that you’d like us to consider as a Prompts image, send that as well! 

ocean1854 (1) (1)

sunset (1)

Photo credits: Deirdre Riggsbee (Ocean) and Patricia Parker (Sunset)

The very loud sound of nobody speaking
By KC Bosch

You can’t get to the horizon
it’s not really a thing.
But, I can see it from where I stand.
There is no negotiating with the ocean,
or deal making with time.
We only get just so much,
and maybe not even that.
I walked to the edge of the water today
and waited.
I don’t remember what I was looking for,
but I think I found it there.

A     B _ _CHY    LIFE!
By Joe Wells

The light dims.
Mood sets in.
Breeze runs fingers
through my hair.

My feet, a straw
to my parched mind,
dips in golden lager
topped by thick foam.
Dazed consciousness
slurps up fresh
brewed perfect concoction
of melting
sun in salty waters.

Before long
darkness shall spread
its cover, and I will
pass out yet again
with a hangover

of memories.

Sea hedgehog
By Ilona Martonfi

It happened here
right where you’re standing
millions of years ago
during Earth’s history

under a coral sun

aragonite rock formation
extinct genus of echinoids
clouds of eggs and sperm
post-coital beginning.
Reef knolls, purple mud
here, here, and here

eyeless sea urchins
carpeting an algae forest
underworld of rules.
Anoxic sediments

bring testimonies of
compulsive wasting.
Rasping habits.
Warm, shallow seas.
What about it? Is it all over?
Limestone bedding

under a coral sun

gamma pictures

losing their spine and dying.
Ourselves the other

tiny beating heart.

By Laura Zucca-Scott

Looking away
Where the ocean and the sky
Meet in harmony
The foam playing with your feet
Erasing any sign of your presence
On that beach, on that day

This may be what freedom
Feels like
Looking away
And breathing salt
As if it were the first time
In your life

By Annmarie Lockhart

That moment when you see your kid there,
giggling beyond the frame, the echo of the child
who made everyone laugh with her words, who
made full-grown men stop on the streets to join
her John Travolta strut parade down 50th Street
toward the East River, and you wonder what spirit
she draws upon to tap the elixir of humor from
the air itself. That moment when you see your
kid there, smiling, and you know for the first time
in a long time that you will not lose her, no matter
how the clouds pile up on this side of those New
York rivers. You know that moment?
Yeah. That’s the one.