It was only a dream
Or only an illusion
It's never been real
It's defined by confusion
It's never been life
It was not what it seemed
It's never been real
It was only a dream

Sleeping or aspiring
Whatever dreaming means to you
Write about it!

The house is cold.
The house dark and lonely.

The hum of the dishwasher,
The thump of the dryer.

Her bare feet scamper across the tile floor.
She pulls on her favorite hoodie,
Caccoons herself in blankets,
And sleeps a long,
Dreamless sleep.

everything i wished for
now reflects back up at
the lost, broken girl
who dares to look back

just like

all the pennies that i threw
still glittering at the bottom of the fountain
reflecting my empty wishes
but never daring, to make them come true

I don't know where I'm going,
And sometimes I'm oblivious to what happens around me.

I don't know where I belong,
And as much as I try not to care,
Somehow it constantly bothers me.

I don't always know what to say,
And I convince myself that it's alright when I know that I ******* up.

Another birthday,
Another shooting star,
Another penny in the fountain,
Coin in the well.

All I can do is wish that it'll all be okay someday.

I had so many wishes
I told you them all
I wished for happiness
In big things and small

I wish to be living
Without all this stress
I wish to be smiling
No longer depressed

I wish that you didn't live so **** far away
I wish when you came
You would come here to stay

I wish feelings were mutual
Yours and mine
But of all things I wish
I wish I could stop time

I wish to stop time
A wish won't come true
I wished life would stand still
To spend time with you

Write about what you wish when you throw a penny in a fountain or when you see a shooting star

And even though I have no chance with him at all,
Whenever our eyes meet,
The butterflies in my stomach take flight.

There's no way to resurrect you,

the only escape from life without your smiling face,

brightening the whole world around you.

I can't live in a world that's missing the sun,

and so I'll fly.

~

Lightyears fly past

Planets, solar systems, galaxies

they spiral by.

Anything to leave that empty world behind.

There's no real light without you,

but no one understands that.

The only place that satisfies is a black hole.

and I'm flying right into it.

You left me,
and I can't find you anywhere on Earth.

If I know anything about you,
it's that you love the moon.

And if I have to fly there and back to get you back,
I'm ready for launch right now.

I'm not afraid of flying
I'm just afraid of falling down
But ****, if I knew how
I'd fly out of this town.

I'm not afraid of dying
I'm just afraid of its effects
I'm not afraid of trying
I'm just afraid of what comes next.

Will I succeed or will I fail?
Dive in the air and parasail.
And fly away.

Write about flying.
It can be about anything from planes to birds to humans with wings.
Try to take a different approach to this than your first instinct.

Unexpected twist in the story.
Sharp turn on a straight road.
My life is a maze,
And everything is a challenge.

A race against time,
A race against myself.

The maze of birth
A welcoming puzzle
The maze of childhood
Cradled and cuddled

The maze of adolescence
confusion, mistake
Wondering how long
'Til you can escape

The maze of adulthood
I've yet to explore
But the labyrinth of life
Is an open door.

Topic of week of Jan. 28

Mazes

Make sure that's plural!

We all have probably written a poem on one specific maze symbolizing an aspect of life, but now try to write about multiple mazes.

A different time,
a different place.

If only I never smiled at you.
if only you never said hello.

I wish  didn't fall so hard.
I wish you didn't let me go

I remember when I'd stay at my grandparent's house. Not because I had to, but simply because I wanted to. I remember drinking apple cider while my grandfather read to me. Sometimes I'd go grocery shopping with my grandmother, other times just staying at home and watching TV.
I remember playing with blocks and building all kinds of things. I remember my brother and I sleeping in my dad's old room.
I remember waking up to the smell of my grandfather's pancakes. They were always fantastic. I know how to make them the same way, but it doesn't taste right because he didn't make them.
I remember also staying in my aunt's old room. Something about the mirrors and dressers and balcony and rose bush made me feel like I had stepped back in time... And I liked it.
I go back there often, but it's just not the same.

I miss those days.
I miss it.
I miss him.

But even though he's gone, I know I'll never forget.

I hope we forget all of our passwords
So we cannot delete our Facebook posts.
I hope we still remember good ol' Myspace;
I hope we're haunted by our Twitter ghosts.

I hope that we'll go back and click on pictures
That we took on Apple Photobooth
I hope I will remember that one status
Said I was 'in a relationship' with you.

I hope we leave them open for our children
I hope they'll laugh at how we're old
I hope they'll look back at our high school photos.
I hope we'll reminisce on videos.

I hope that we'll go back and click on pictures
That we took on Apple Photobooth
I hope someday I'll tweet about that one time
When I was 'in a relationship' with you

Go ahead, tell us about something that has happened.
Good or bad, write about the memories that will stay with you forever.
Or, write about the act of reminiscing.

And you're just a song that I can't seem to get out of my head.
Same beats, same tune, same mistakes.
Everytime I try to escape,
Somehow I end up right back at your feet.

My life is a poem by Edgar Allan Poe
An epic, concealed by my tales of woe.
That terrible song, with the lyrics you know
That you just can't get out of your head.

My life is that song, mournfully played
With that lingering feeling, lost and afraid.
A song that depicts broken hearts, betrayed.
For which your ears have bled.

Write about that song you just can't get out of your head, or adopt this as a metaphor.

I'll show them respect and I'll do the right thing.
Words of good spirit, I promise I'll bring.
I'll do the good deeds you can no longer do.
I'll be a good person and I'll do it for you.

Everyone's worlds move on happily


as mine is torn apart

Reflection.
Write a poem reflecting on something that has affected you recently while the emotions are still rattling around in your brain.

And the darkness lurks around the corner,
Begging to steal us away from the light.
The shadows call,
The darkness awaits.

If only I were as brave
If only I were as brave

If only I were as blissful
If only I were as blissful

If only I were as blind
If only I were as blind

As the shadow that flies below me
As the bird that flies above me

The shadows dance around the walls

each one a memory

Trace the shadow of a bird before it flies away,
And learn that every moment passes, learn to seize the day.
Trace the shadow of yourself and stay forever still,
But you'll learn you won't get very far, I guarantee you will.

I small, single shadow darts across the ground.

I look up at the sky, and the sun is blocked

for a split second, hardly noticeable.

Suddenly, out of no where,

dozens, no, hundreds of little shadows

dart in different directions

creating chaos on the ground.

Soon, there are so many,

the sun is blotted out

and I'm left in darkness

as a storm rages above.

Thousands of flapping wings

create a hurrucane's wind

and a tornado's sound.



Just when I can't take it anymore,


it's quiet.


I lift my head from my knees

to see a single crow staring back at me

before turning and flying away.

Where were all those birds going?

why, away from me, of course.

Now I'm back to a sun-cracked desert

with just me and my shadow.

Write a poem about a shadow. For a challenge, try writing about the shadow of a bird flying over head.

Huddled together under thick blankets
scarfs wrap tightly around our necks
mittens disguise our hands.

Everything is set up and perfect,
we've been planning this for a long while now.
Someone lights a match
and suddenly we are all holding our breaths.

*BANG!*

Color sparkles across the navy winter sky
the bright red and blue reflect off the freshly-fallen snow.
A quiet, monotonous winter scene explodes in a light show.

We still can't breathe as our dreams become reality.
We never want the magic to end

staircase creaking
                             windows leaking
                                                          faucets dripping
                                                                                     cabinets wishing
                                                                                                                  closets aching
                                                                                                                                         Hearts not breaking

Out the door and on my way
Into a cold, dark, world with skies of gray.
Feeling slightly incomplete
Treading out into the sleet
Looking up into the gray
"Something's different," I hear myself say.

"Light blue?"

Stayed up all night,
Doing something I hate.

But why?

My once rosy cheeks fade into a sickly,
Indescribable shade.

It's black.
It's white.
It's grey.
It's sad.
It's stressed.
I'm exhausted.

But you don't know.
Rose colors and brushes,
Hiding the crumbling,
Hiding the dark circles,
Hiding the grey,
Hiding my breaking point.

This week's topic is color.

To challenge yourself even more, try to go for a light blue-grey.

Have fun!

So let them play their music. Let the cheerful songs fill them with joy and the sad ones with sorrow.

And us?

We can dance. We might not have any more dimes, but we don't need music to dance.

Staring out into the stormy winter night

in one of those old-time diners

The jukebox tunes the only thing keeping me alive

I've been tripped and trampled on for far to long

this is the end of the line, a dead end

The song comes to an end, and the jukebox is silent

I'm out of change

My life is a jukebox
The music plays with only a small selection
My life is a downhill slide
Going in only one direction

As you get up from that diner table
And move across that floor
You pick your song on that dusty jukebox
And you play it forever more.

Subject of poetry:

A jukebox