W3 Prompt #14: Wea’ve Written Weekly

Intro

Dear friends,

Welcome to our W³ Poetry Prompt, which goes live 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:

‘Cold Feet’ by Sylvia Cognac

Waiting to feel safe with you
You seem to be just right
Right like all the other men
Men who left me by day light

I try to hide my insecurities
Insecurities might spoil things
Things that work out for almost everyone
Everyone else wears wedding rings

You’re adorable, but I’m silent
Silent because I don’t know how to express
Express that I want you, but I’m terrified
Terrified I can’t live up to this white dress

II. Sylvia’s prompt guideline

• Write a poem that contains the word “water”.

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, August 7, 10:00 AM (GMT+3)

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Last week’s W³ poem

This week’s W³ prompt poem (above), composed by Sylvia Cognac, was written in response to last week’s W³ prompt poem, which A. J. Wilson wrote:

‘Waiting for the dark’ by A. J. Wilson

the secret of loving you, is not to allow
that invisible flame to burn too fiercely
so only I can feel the heat,
and the flicker of longed-for pain,
you say I'm 'adorable', in a matter of fact way
looking into the mirror, combing your hair
your reflection knows the reality
which is why we feel miles apart
spinning intoxicated into oblivion
tripping over cooling embers
dancing into forgetfulness
waiting for the dark