W3 Prompt #9: Wea’ve Written Weekly

Intro

Dear friends,

Welcome to our ninth W³ Poetry Prompt, which will we shall be publishing on Wednesdays at The Skeptic’s Kaddish.

You may click here for a fuller explanation of W³; but here’s the ‘tldr’ version:

Part I

The main ingredient of W³ is a weekly poem written by a Poet of the Week (PoW), which participants respond to in verse.

Part II

The second ingredient is a writing guideline (or two) provided by the PoW. Guidelines may include, but are not limited to: word counts, poetic forms, inclusion of specific words, and use of particular poetic devices.

Part III

After four days, when the prompt closes, the PoW shall select one participant’s poem as the W³ prompt for the following week, and its author becomes the next PoW.

Simple enough, right?

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Okie dokie ~ Let’s do this thing!

I. The prompt poem:

‘Thunderstorm Magic’ by Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

The thunderstorm raged around his
parasol, yet not a single first
touch of wet frigid rain
fell on his umbrella received from

someone extraordinarily special if a

tad timid in his bearing and a little
self-conscious about his scrawny

body, which is a groovy window
to the gents soul. Unseen droplets
flow from the umbrella pattering

away from his feet, his arms and
his entire body, pools of dew
from his walk become rivers forming

II. Ami’s prompt guidelines

• Your poem must include both of the two following words:
  1. ‘sovereign’
  2. ‘rights’

III. Submit: Click on ‘Mr. Linky’ below

In order to participate and share a poem, open up this blog post, outside of the WordPress reader. At the bottom, just below these words, you will see a small rectangular graphic with the words ‘Mr Linky’. Click on that to submit.

Submissions are open for 4 days, until Sunday, July 3, 10:00 AM (GMT+3)

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Last week’s W³ poem

This week’s W³ prompt poem (above), composed by Ami, was in response to last week’s W³ prompt poem, which Kunjal wrote:

‘Rain’ by Kunjal

His first rain,
From a little scrawny window,
Droplets pattering and dew forming,
His first thought is a big spit or too much sweat.
His second rain,
Through open gates And-he-could- crawl- cross-fall 
Above those big bouncy raindrops,
Stripped in straps he looks-
At The kids dancing,
He feels his heart sighing and shunning
The remorse- and skipping with the drops falling.