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Poetry Prompts

Monday Poetry Prompt: Tiger

Tomorrow we celebrate the Lunar New Year and, under the Chinese calendar, the Year of the Tiger begins so this week let’s write a tiger poem. Let’s honor those big cats whose ancestors once ate our ancestors and post the results 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.


12 thoughts on “Monday Poetry Prompt: Tiger

  1. Hi there. I wrote my first tonka. fun – i like the word restrictions and pivot line.

    Recent Chinese Zodiac

    Rat was survival
    Ox anchored our Covid lives
    Tiger is Yang, fierce
    Expect change – life, work, romance
    Take a chance – life is too short

    Liked by 2 people

    Posted by Second Act Blogger | February 2, 2022, 8:47 PM
  2. Lily

    She sat there at table 4
    So assured and strong
    All eyes on her
    A flaming orange cynosure

    He glanced toward her
    only an instant
    in that moment I knew
    he would ride with her
    into what ever fray came

    I would slash her
    with my claws erupting
    Bumblebees, bats and wolverines
    have nothing on me

    I would pluck out his eyes
    leaving him with that tiger’s image
    the last he would see
    never knowing his Tiger-lily
    had grown to twenty feet tall

    I saw the carnage and knew
    just like he knew me
    I had to leave this city of bread
    Leaving crumbs and entrails on the way out

    “I’ll have the Cobb salad, please”

    Liked by 3 people

    Posted by Chris Clarke | February 1, 2022, 5:31 PM
  3. Tiger at Moonspill

    The heart she wrenched
    from her chest
    hung half loose from longing
    Take this!
    hot, wet and red.

    This merciful earth,
    where I make my bed,
    saturates as spilled wine stains bread.

    You who pick and parcel out your love,
    consider the waterfall, sun’s fire,
    sidereal light by day

    You stand stone,
    with hands a basin for my blood;
    for marrow, liquid vermilion
    sliding down your basalt breast.
    You summon distance worse than death.

    The ocean surge is my breath.
    This daughter of earth prowls
    outside the den, to reclaim life,
    suckling her daughters.

    Make wide the way
    from you, bereft,
    who have this pearl forfeit.

    Liked by 2 people

    Posted by ts19page | February 1, 2022, 9:14 AM

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