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Poetry Prompts

December Visual Poetry Prompt

Apologies for the lack of a prompt last week. Didn’t mean to leave you all out in the cold.

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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.

Discussion

15 thoughts on “December Visual Poetry Prompt

  1. A bit prosey but here it goes:
    =======================

    I saw you the first time
    at Kevin’s “Frost Faire”
    dressed in black
    with a red cashmere coat
    stolen from your mother’s closet
    a jaunty hat topped your head
    as you fought to open your bloom
    in the cold night air
    with that scared Peddie boy
    a newfound wildness in your eyes
    a bottle of Jack in your gloved hand
    as you looked for more ways to roar

    I heard that you caused some stir
    and Kevin threw you out in the snow
    they laughed afterward
    practice for their legal careers
    in the years to come
    and left you passed out in the back

    We took you home and
    from a safe distance
    made sure you were safe
    in the warm of your house
    I never saw you again

    I’d heard you died
    on the shore of Lake Mendota
    several years later
    I also heard you died
    trying to give your husband
    a boy after four “failures”

    But I knew you were gone
    when I saw you
    Red coat over black dress
    sitting in the hoary white theatre
    perched on a dormant throne
    a resplendent wonder
    all these years later
    roaring in absolute silence

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by Chris Clarke | December 13, 2022, 2:54 PM
  2. What I very much like about the monthly prompt – is NOT thinking, or not too much anyway. Exposed to the random image or word, something immediately comes to mind. But not a thought – they’re too dry, hard, weighty … no, more like a feeling, a humour, which pops into mind – and with that, words and other notions take form. It reminds me – why, I don’t know – of Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha.

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by Donncha | December 13, 2022, 8:27 AM
  3. Ha I am certainly not shivering 😁

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by Cassa Bassa | December 12, 2022, 3:55 PM
  4. Always dressed to party
    the cardinal defies winter
    and calls me into the snow

    Liked by 3 people

    Posted by JeanMarie | December 12, 2022, 2:17 PM
  5. Summer’s Time

    Finland’s fens are pale
    ice blue and white.
    Forests stride the shadows
    and defy the sun on Sundays.

    Warm heart of home, daisy charmed,
    where the scooped polished cup
    reflects deep inside the leaves of fortune
    like trails through snow.

    Time lies heavy here
    at the curving summit of the world,
    and lists north,
    toward blue ice.

    Here fire is life,
    and smoke a
    beckoning,
    reckoning worth the burn.

    Fire burns in the stove
    in summer,
    when heat is is at the back,
    warmth in the mouth.

    For who can say man lives
    by bread alone under the
    looming run of days when
    summer is a reverie,

    A minuscule repast,
    shattered shell, a crumb.
    The white smoke takes
    the form of breath,

    Rises, disperses from the glow,
    and is gone as if it never was.
    No time is time
    for summer in the mind.

    Liked by 3 people

    Posted by ts19page | December 12, 2022, 11:11 AM
  6. She sat …
    in isolation
    alone
    save for the frozen cold
    of icy indifference all around.

    Her beauty …
    unfased by it all,
    glowed, as a torch,
    yet, her heart,
    questioning, ached on.

    My god, if there is a god,
    sit by me now.
    My god … if you hear, if you care,
    My god.

    Liked by 3 people

    Posted by Dennis or Donncha as Gaeilge | December 12, 2022, 9:19 AM

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