What do you have?
I have myself,
I don’t have the things you want,
I don’t have your standard,

I am fine with it,
I have accepted it,
We all go through life differently,
We can never be the same,

Even to ourselves,
We are no longer us, five years ago.

Day Twenty-Six

Write a portrait poem that focuses on or plays with the meaning of the subject’s name. This could be a self-portrait, a portrait of a family member or close friend, or even a portrait of a famous or historical person. If you need help delving into the meaning of your poem-subject’s name, this website may help.

Her name is Jane Austen,
An essence of rebellion,
As her sparks live and remain,
A long everlasting beacon,

Her words echo endlessly,
Thrives in the world of hypocrisy.

Day Twenty-Five

Today’s prompt challenges you to also write a love poem, one that names at least one flower, contains one parenthetical statement, and in which at least some lines break in unusual places.

I do not need regret,
For all the love that I’ve had,
Even all the heartbreaks,
Will make me wiser (while being sad),

Some are the sweetest,
Some are the wisest,
Some tried their best,
Even with all the mess (sometimes I’m the mess),

I am a gardener living under the sun,
Growing thornless roses,
Planting grey tulips,
Watering a golden cherry blossom (if it even exists),

I no longer want to be the only gardener,
Taking care of his flowers,
In his garden of love,
I need a partner, to grow this field of flowers, together.

Day Twenty-Four

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem in the form of a review. But not a review of a book or a movie of a restaurant. Instead, I challenge you to write a poetic review of something that isn’t normally reviewed. For example, your mother-in-law, the moon, or the year you were ten years old.

It’s morning,
The light sneaks into my room,
Slowly lighting up,
Proud of its blinding light,

The radiance of the Sun,
Greeting this side of the world,
With its warmth,
And sometimes too hot,

It’s pretty much the same,
Here in the equator,
The Sun shows itself,
Like a countless selfie in a phone,

None denied the importance of the Sun,
Yet none dare to say the truth about it,
Can you not shine so brightly?
Or keep yourself covered by the clouds,

Maybe it’s just me,
Because I can’t stop sweating,
Live in the heat,
The radiance of the Sun.

Day Twenty-Three

Now, try to write a poem of your own that has multiple numbered sections. Attempt to have each section be in dialogue with the others, like a song where a different person sings each verse, giving a different point of view. Set the poem in a specific place that you used to spend a lot of time in, but don’t spend time in anymore.

I.

What did we do,
To deserve this,
So called blessing,
From the universe,

A blessing of hardship,
And conflicting chaos,

II.

Of course, we deserve it,
To feel pain,
To feel shame,
To hear the cracking sound,

Of a heartbreak,
That was not even ours,

III.

No! We don’t deserve it,
We are being ourselves,
We tend to give,
We tend to love,

If loving someone is an ill omen,
I will still not stop to love,

IV.

Ah, to love,
How thoughts can be so pure,
How desire can bring so much pain,
Or was it not an affection,

But greed,
Turn to lust,

V.

We deserved everything,
From the pain to love,
Whether it is pure or a seed of sin,
We sow everything on our own,

But at least God,
Let us feel it one last time.

Day Twenty-Two

Today’s exercise asks you to do something similar, but in the interests of creativity, rather than ill-conceived “correction.” Find an Emily Dickinson poem – preferably one you’ve never previously read – and take out all the dashes and line breaks. Make it just one big block of prose. Now, rebreak the lines. Add words where you want. Take out some words. Make your own poem out of it! (Not sure where to find some Dickinson poems? You’ll find oodles at the bottom of this page).

“Hope” is the thing with feathers. That perches in the soul. And sings the tune without the words. And never stops – at all. And sweetest. in the Gale. is heard. And sore must be the storm. That could abash the little Bird. That kept so many warm. I’ve heard it in the chillest land. And on the strangest Sea. Yet never in Extremity. It asked a crumb of me.

Hope is the light at the end of the tunnel,
Deceiving the soul,
After a long journey,
And it starts to feel lonely,

The road was never sweet,
The pain is bitterness,
Sucking everything to the Hell’s pit,
The survivors left in despair and loneliness,

I’ve heard the voices around me,
Closest to strangers’ land,
Forsaken for everyone to see,
Left without a helping hand.

Day Twenty-One

Last but not least, here’s today’s (optional) prompt. Begin by reading Sarah Gambito’s poem “Grace.” Now, choose an abstract noun from the list below, and then use that as the title for a poem that contains very short lines, and at least one invented word.

You are
the Sun,

I am
the Moon,

You shine
the Milky Way
effortlessly,

I am
by Earth’s side
shyly,

We can
never be
together,

Not even from
the view
of men,

We may
seen close
during eclipses,

In truth
and reality
we are so far apart,

Yet some believes
we can complement
each other,

We became pair
day and night
a destined cycle,

How sweet
and romantic
of two celestial bodies,

A belief
I want to hold
and pray for,

But in truth
we barely known
each other,

We can only
watch each other
from a distance,

In God’s language
we are called
Sephoracullia.