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Poetry Prompts

Monday Poetry Prompt: Circle, Few, Quality

This week let’s write a poem with the words circle, few and quality in it. This is another of those prompts where I randomly choose three words from a list of the top 1000 words in the English language plus a few of my favorites. Post your poems in the comments below.

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About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. 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 lives and writes poetry.

Discussion

8 thoughts on “Monday Poetry Prompt: Circle, Few, Quality

  1. Hannah Ringler's avatar

    When I crossed the fairy ring,
    stepped into the enchanted circle,
    nothing happened. Connection on the fritz—
    the quality of everything’s gone under hill,
    and all we have to wave is fairy gold.

    Perhaps the eldritch engineers were made redundant,
    the trollish transportation workers went on strike—
    more power to them, you do what you must,
    even (especially) in Fair Elfland.

    Or perhaps they’ve closed the borders,
    blocking endless economic migrants
    seeking enchantment in exchange
    for scrubbing floors. Hollywood
    just doesn’t cut it anymore. You know
    how it is; applications many, positions few.

    The glamour’s been rubbed off, gilt crumbling
    into spray tan in the light of day.
    I’ll get no fairy knight or queen
    to spirit me away,
    no three hundred years of sleep
    to dream away the sorrow so I may wake
    and find abundance, a generous
    and loving wild garden.

    But, so far, the moss is greener than the winter river,
    the trout lily’s gold is true, if only for a day.
    And ruby-like, the cardinal still glows,
    still flits and sings
    in the downy gray and brown
    of drowsing trees.

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by Hannah Ringler | February 20, 2024, 9:37 AM

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

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  3. Pingback: Circles in my life: a haiku – Poetry & More - February 21, 2024

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