//
you're reading...
Poetry Prompts

Monday Poetry Prompt: Late

Posted by ⋅ ⋅ 24 Comments
Filed Under  ,

appointment-15979_640.jpg

This week let’s write a late poem. As an habitually early person, it shames me to be a day late with the prompt. Forgive me by posting a poem 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. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. 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.

Discussion

24 thoughts on “Monday Poetry Prompt: Late”

  1. Dare I say you’re late?
    But wait oh wait oh wait
    Who am I to judge
    Could’ve given you a nudge
    It happens to the best
    Intentions the greatest
    So worry not my friend
    Next time a hand I’ll lend

    Liked by 2 people

    Posted by Lisa Tomey | August 18, 2020, 7:55 AM
    Reply to this comment

  2. Temporally Challenged

    I’m late. I’m late,
    for a very important
    and a not important
    date,
    meeting, appointment, show,
    pretty much anywhere I have to go
    My friends have to wait
    because my on-time is late.

    Liked by 2 people

    Posted by JeanMarie | August 18, 2020, 2:26 PM
    Reply to this comment

  3. Here’s a poem I wrote during the 2013 PAD which applies to this prompt:

    I am an early bird and I am late

    I am not driving an ambulance nor a fire engine. If I am late no one will die, no buildings collapse, no skies fall. Yet I weave through lanes as a snake. I curse my fellow men as obstacles. I panic as though drowning with no time to breathe.

    Only the far reaches of the parking lot have space. Elevators mock my arrival from the highest floor. With apologies readied, I burst into the conference room.

    Empty.

    Liked by 2 people

    Posted by Bartholomew Barker | August 18, 2020, 7:26 PM
    Reply to this comment

  4. Late

    Love is worthy of waiting
    All the past tribulation and perseverance
    lead to the great encounter
    Love never arrives late
    as life is never filled with bitter regrets
    instead
    it is full of reward for those who seek love

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by Cassa Bassa | August 20, 2020, 7:50 PM
    Reply to this comment

  5. “It’s too late for that now.”
    As I tried to engage the rocker switch under C117

    Funny… those were the same words
    She used when
    The unbreakable
    was broken

    The end is the end
    only when
    it is the end

    Thoughts
    that are a luxury
    of those who’s time
    may be limited
    but not gone

    But it’s too late for that now

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by Chris Clarke | August 24, 2020, 11:45 AM
    Reply to this comment

  6. There is always another perspective, but don’t trust me – I’m usually late 🙂

    Sometimes, There’s Purpose in the Delay

    The man sits in traffic
    Coffee in his hand
    And he grits his teeth
    Another long day
    The aggravation swells
    And he grabs his horn
    And tells the world he’s in a hurry
    But nothing changes
    He writhes within the delay – impatient
    Never will he understand
    It saved his life that day.
    Had he driven a little faster
    Had he arrived a little earlier
    Had he not been delayed
    That last morning hug with his son
    The accident alongside the road
    Firemen using the jaws of life
    It would have been him
    But he will never understand
    He just drives by – and thinks it irrelevant
    And he’s not the only one.

    The young man in college
    Roams about campus
    And he grits his teeth in impatience
    It’s another long day
    For his ride is late – again
    He just doesn’t have time for this
    And the anger rises, not by his command
    Until he sees her sitting under the tree
    Reading poetry with a smile on her lips
    How can a person be so carefree?
    She looks at him and smiles
    They start a conversation
    And little can he understand
    That this was meant to be
    It saved his life that day
    Had he left campus early
    Had his ride come quickly through
    Had he not been delayed
    The life they shared together
    Never would have been
    And their young child
    Who will someday grow to be a man
    Who touches the world with his heart
    Would never be
    But he will never understand
    He thinks it’s irrelevant
    And he’s not the only one.

    We writhe and struggle through the delay
    And it happens every day
    But we never know where it will save us
    And we will never understand
    We think we are in command
    Of everything and everyone
    But sometimes – in the delay
    There’s purpose.

    © Sumyanna

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by Sumyanna | October 9, 2020, 5:18 PM
    Reply to this comment

Let us know what you think

Enter your email address to follow Living Poetry\'s blog and receive new posts by email.

Join 820 other subscribers

View Our Latest Poetry Posts