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Poetry Prompts

Monday Poetry Prompt: Molt



This week let’s write a molting poem. Have you ever wanted to shed your skin like a snake or slough off your exoskeleton like an insect? Would it hurt or be cathartic or both? Post your leavings in the comments below.



About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is one of the organizers of Living Poetry, a collection of poets and poetry lovers in the Triangle region of North Carolina. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.


22 thoughts on “Monday Poetry Prompt: Molt

  1. wow. powerful.


    Posted by purplestoneblog | July 15, 2020, 4:33 PM
  2. the shell casings fell to the ground
    that is when I knew
    the final shots had penetrated
    not the skin
    but under the skin
    where goose pimples wait to sprout
    gathering up the fresh flowers
    placing them at the grave site
    little did anyone know
    except my sister and I
    dad was lost in Carolina
    his urn stuck in Charlotte
    while we interred him in Iowa
    the casings were handed to us
    souvenirs of long past days
    honors for a deserving man
    whose last bugle sound
    was long past played
    but if memories live on
    he rested with the best of them
    only now he dances with three brides

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by Lisa Tomey | July 15, 2020, 3:09 PM
  3. Molting
    so i shed my skin that i wore at the time
    when i realized it was not the real me
    picked up my house and left that unhealthy corner
    to find where i belonged, who my people were
    would i recognize them just by looking
    how to know i asked myself
    but i didn’t answer me

    the search began, my eyes peered into windows
    looked down every alley, talk, talk, talk
    until there was nothing left to say
    so i began to listen while my mind opened
    little by little, expanding, filling
    without my notice an outer layer had formed
    it looked quite alike with a tinge of difference

    then the call came inviting me to lunch
    “of course,” i replied, “i’d love to” i said
    the inner glow showed through
    matching one that blossomed within me
    as i listened, as i talked i knew
    no more searching needed
    i had molted and found home.

    Liked by 2 people

    Posted by purplestoneblog | July 15, 2020, 12:43 PM
  4. July kills the lie of Spring
    Drowns the heart with never ending heat
    wings useless to fly away
    with primaries too worn and unkempt

    The days change slowly
    Sun scarcely moving from its worn path
    No matter the morning’s hope
    Afternoon burns my skin

    But I will climb that ridge
    and watch to the North
    for the battle lines to form
    cheering for them from the land beyond

    And then, with my new finery
    Strong and Warm
    I will face a foe more dangerous than July
    but one I truly love

    This month will always mock me
    and with bands of sweat
    and chains of heat
    Defiant, I will always have Winter in my corner

    Liked by 2 people

    Posted by Chris Clarke | July 15, 2020, 7:52 AM
  5. flickerofthoughts.com/2020/07/14/moulting/

    Liked by 2 people

    Posted by Cassa Bassa | July 13, 2020, 9:46 PM
  6. Molt

    Weeks turn to months.
    I have been confined too long.
    Seeking solace in the night
    I molt my skin
    don a discarded shell
    and dig a home into wet sand
    careful to escape the boiling pot.
    Sometimes my skin thickens
    my feet harden into hooves
    and I race the veld with my herd.
    On clear nights with full moon
    I spread my wings and soar
    a sleek predator
    bringing fast death to small animals
    before roosting in my nest
    to awaken with feathers by my bed.

    Liked by 3 people

    Posted by JeanMarie | July 13, 2020, 5:16 PM

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