#prompts
These daily prompts have been a boon to me
I had lost my way
And thought I couldn’t write anymore
But, since this Monday,
things have changed for me
Everyday, to wake up and think what would it be, the prompt says, just open your eyes and read
And when I do read the question,
right after it, there, my answer is free
I have earned a name, anonymous though
close to mine, synonymously
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 2:41 PM UTC
I was walking backwards through
the streets of my life,
past a café where green chairs
argued with pigeons,
baked dough and burnt cheese braided
in the breeze.
Every person I’ve been this year
kept crossing the street in front of me,
faces blurry,
never looking away,
forced to march in algorithm.
I stepped off heel-first
when my ten-year-old self broke ranks,
sprinted up
and wrapped me in his arms,
“Don’t leave me, please!
Not again!”
I froze—
my heart pinned
to the edge of his fear.
He looked up,
I couldn’t believe it,
I tried hard to speak
but his grip weakend
and broke,
I opened my eyes
with darkness in my face,
and just lay there
for awhile.
Dec 17, 2025
Dec 17, 2025 at 3:38 AM UTC
sorry
I'm
s
p
l
i
t
t
i
n
g
& I don't know
what that
means
Nov 22, 2022
Nov 22, 2022 at 8:33 PM UTC
.
.
.
to know me is
to know
I will probably never
make it through all 30
of these prompts
𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺, 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺
to know me is
to know
I don't feel much regret
for those kinds of
things these
days
to know me is
to know I will always make
"the best of it," no matter
the depths of life's
intermittent
cuts
but...
to know me is
to know
an open wound;
to know the hell
I have survived
& continue to
to know that I bear it --
not with pride,
but with a vengeful tenacity
to know that in time
it will heal,
& with stunning vivacity
to know me is
to know
a cut will not ever
be the way that I
go
Nov 22, 2022
Nov 22, 2022 at 1:41 AM UTC
Abandon definitions.
They are abbreviations of something abstract, abundant alive.
I am an admirer, an adaptation
an affiliate of things
antique and alien,
And who are you?
An anthology of secrets
An aggregate of emotion.
We are an allegory of nothing and all things
An affinity for the absurd
An animosity for analysis.
Mar 27, 2022
Mar 27, 2022 at 3:19 AM UTC
Thousand bullets a second call me Trigger-Tron
Heaters out can't cool it I'm on a ****** marathon
Wanted posters dead or alive the names Trigger, Tron
Rode off into sunsets with twin lead trails drawn
Saddle up go round an round I been outta town
Makin ghost towns when I do my rounds
Addled up go round for round then head outta town
Souls wander I put em in the lost an found
Money bags with the big $ just a lil' bank robbery
Heavy saddle bags ridin out with all I can carry
Money bags with the big $ just a lil' train robbery
Heavy saddle bags rode out with all I could carry
Thousand bullets a second they call me Trigger-Tron
Heaters on fire I ****** in marathons
Wanted posters out name on the bounty, Trigger-Tron
I ride into the sunset with twin lead trails drawn
The young Billy with the Iron "I'll make ya famous"
Rustlin jimmys sheriff and posse never catch us
Billy draws the big Iron "I'll make ya famous"
Rustlin Jimmys with the iron in **********
The sheriff and his posse after my bounty
If they wanna hound me I'm your huckleberry
Sheriff and posse, lotta bodys dead in the county
Fresh tombstones last count was about twenty
Hounds down like old yeller guns sure like to holler
Winds down at night retire the dual death dealers
Coyotes creep towards the fire start up a holler
From bush an ambush a few more dead 'fellers
Hands quicker than rattle snakes draw an fire
Leads flyin hills rattle an shake guess its war
Outlaws firin shells sounds like a two pair
My hands five aces four shots they fold for sure
Then I ride off into the sunset with twin lead trails drawn
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 1:31 AM UTC
if my heart was made of stone,
would i feel not so alone?
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 2:43 PM UTC
The sun has risen
Stomach growling skin itching
I can't feel a thing
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 12:52 PM UTC
A river of sins
coursing in my veins
you’re slowly
creeping
under my skin
Your hands
the firing pin
I beg
up to my chin
to release me
oh! my king
‘fore the
adrenaline
swallows me
within
Jun 10, 2020
Jun 10, 2020 at 6:19 PM UTC
Me: What's so hard about the first line?
Also Me: There's nothing difficult at all! It's just like baking a cake.
M: In what way, would you say, this is at all like baking a cake?
A M: Cakes, in a way, are a composition. They can come in a variety of flavors, from mundane munchies to extravagant favors.
M: You comic, that's pretty much everything in life; are you hoping to seem as if somehow you're wise?
A M: Before the first pour, a whisk or a spoon or something more, one must consider intention, constitution, and culinary inspiration.
M: it's a cake, that you bake, where the flour is the base, sugar the taste, and colors meant to decorate.
A M: No need to simplify, I ask that you rectify your pompous pontification.
Myself: writing, baking, what does it matter. We write, we bake, that's all that matters.
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 11:25 PM UTC
I don’t see many on here but I’d like to start the chain if others are interested in chiming in on this too!!
First prompt-sunshine! Love to hear from you lovely writers!
Share your ideas with hashtag prompts!! ;)
Here’s my 10 w
Eyes are closed but I can see the golden glow
Jun 19, 2019
Jun 19, 2019 at 10:55 PM UTC
I pull the sheets over my head,
There's darkness around.
And suddenly it feels home.
Darkness perceives of what I've been longing for,
It's where i belong.
Where I'm not fearful.
Where nothing can harm me,
Solely, because I'm the only harm here.
A harm so murk,
That grasps every body it gets close to,
And persecutes it,
To demise.
There's no getting back,
There's no forgetting.
It keeps me awake,
The inquity.
It sweetly toxins me,
And I'm off to a deep sleep.
At whatever time,
I get pulled back;
Im prompted,
Prompted of all the gloaming mystic.
And I'm inescapable,
Of all the despair.
Im excessively unaware
Of all the agony it beholds.
That being,
A reckless pair.
Disheartened,
But faithful.
Accurate,
But flawed.
Hostile
But shambled.
Too much to complicate the shade,
And
Too little to interpret hell.
Yet,
Why?
Does this bring me tranquility?
Why does this bring me back home?
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 5:02 AM UTC
Unpack the worst thing that has ever been said to you, what in their life made them treat you this way? - a prompt given from jillian rabideau's writing live stream
"she's never going to change. she'll never learn"
my mother's eyes on me
stone sea blue-gray and staring right through
i fled round the corner into my room
another round of the same words-the same eyes
the same ways-every goddess ****** day
and that scream
this woman, so hysterical
didn't recognize her child that night
she saw a mirror she couldn't smash
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 9:36 PM UTC
Let's try to craft one poem a day
A month of our thoughts conveyed
Just give it a shot
Why the hell not?
Let our words find their own way
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 11:48 PM UTC
Do you use online prompts?
To create a poetic response,
Sometimes ideas come to me,
Like an interior visionary,
Is that what a muse is to thee?
Or do you use hokey online prompts,
To create your poetic response?
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 7:24 PM UTC
A warm cup of tea and seeing his smile
Perfect ombres and a comfortable couch
A song with a beautiful melody
You may be wondering what these have in common
They're all things that bring me joy
The scent of fresh blueberry muffins
The sunset on a warm summer day
Going to the lake
Clearly my prompt for the day was joy
Knowing someone loves me
Taking the perfect shot, photography of course
A nice warm bath and waking up next to you
All these things seem simple and ordinary
But to me they mean the world, and that's all that matters.
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
I check the dark halls,
There's no one there,
I pull myself together,
These ghosts are giving me a scare.
They heard my footsteps,
They followed behind me,
My heart pumped faster
As I ran quickly.
I hid in a room,
Which I know they wouldn't find,
But I felt a hand on my shoulder,
I was soon out of my mind.
RUN
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 9:29 AM UTC
Thine hours shed themselves,
Moment upon minutes upon hour
curtsy to thy shining name,
leaden with embellishments
of snow and americas of golden
tears.
Stained time, spilt;
to denounce thine image.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 1:52 PM UTC
i've been lying here for what seems like forever.
eyes shut tight, fists balled, i thought it would go away.
memories of yesterday reappearing behind my eyelids.. sleep was supposed to be my friend.
the one to take away all of my problems and comfort me until i felt myself again.
i suppose sleep failed me too.
it failed to take away the hurt and the pain;
visions of you, wrapped around her like the promise that still envelops my ring finger..
i am afraid.
for i know, if i'm brave enough to peek through my eyelashes,
i would not see you laying there.
this is all your fault.
if i could have one wish, it would be to time travel.
i would go back to that day under that tree..
what kind was it again??
oh yeah, an apple tree.
i can picture all the fallen apples just laying there,
some bruised, some half eaten, others just completely destroyed.
you know, i kind of feel like those apples.
unwanted, damaged.. not really fulfilling my purpose.
somehow i understand.
they too were once picked out among all others,
chosen over every other option
and then suddenly, thrown back.
**YOU PICKED ME YOU IDIOT.
YOU CHOSE, ME!**
(why was it so easy for you to throw me back)
take a deep breath.
can you feel that?
the warm sun bursting through your window?
you have been given a new kind of warmth.
the spot next to you, the one he once occupied,
is now painted a beautiful yellow,
no trace of grey to be seen.
open your eyes darling,
for today is a new day.
and it's all YOURS.
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
When he walked into that room, he carried his whole life with him.
There is something.
It all began when the umbilical was cut.
After that conversation, he just wanted to drink and be whole again.
She sighed with pleasure and slipped the bonds of the appropriate.
He was as nervous as a ***** in an earthquake.
A thousand years ago, he would not have made that promise.
Jesus, get that thing out of here!
Life was good; he had just gotten an NSA grant to study the speed of darkness.
Sure, I knew your mother; she was great in bed
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
Her shoes untouched unmoved
lay carelessly
in the middle of her room
the strings still tied
forever waiting to be
undone and redone
tightly around dainty feet.
a wet shiny black nose
rest atop the left shoe.
peering through the
wide door crack
he raises his golden head
paint splattered with gray
making eye contact
with a sorrowful wine,
questioning.
a moment.
the somber shake of the head
a whimper as he settles his snout
back on the left shoe
waiting…
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:15 AM UTC
Alright.
So you wanna know how to write
a poem.
Well, before we do anything else
I want you to take your pencil,
and break it against your desk.
You’re not gonna need it.
Go to your kitchen
grab a glass mixing bowl, and
pour as many prompts into that bowl
as you see fit.
Maybe crack open a rhyme or two,
cause trust me,
you’ve got time
to watch this poem come to life
inside your mind.
Next, add two cups
of melted controversy
cause hey, you gotta keep people talkin’
and talkin’ and talkin’
cause if you don’t, they’ll be walkin’ away
from that scoop of insane sifted
alliterations you were stocking up on.
Maybe to give it a little zest,
even if it doesn’t make sense
to anyone but you,
throw some “quotes” around
a song lyric or two,
cause you are in charge of this.
So, carry on my wayward son,
my angel with shotgun,
mix it up
and let it bake on the tip of your tongue
and then
spit it out.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC