Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: Tuesday, February 9, 2020

Devereaux Frazier and Beth Amanda are currently hosting the Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge which was started by our star writer Christine Ray. We hope to offer all of you something that will spark your creativity and willingness to participate.

The prompts are designed to be quick challenges that can be written in 10 to 15minutes,  inspire you creatively, are fun, and get everyone interacting.  Please post your response to the prompt in the comments below and show your fellow posters some love and support.  All members of the Go Dog Go community, including Baristas, are welcome to participate.  Feel free to share this post on your own blogs and/or Facebook.

Today’s prompt: Write a poem about a place that inspires you.

Happy Writing!

20 thoughts on “Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: Tuesday, February 9, 2020

  1. My Refuge from the World.
    Once a place of dirt and industry, of sweat and labour, like me it transformed.
    Where Victorian men toiled in cap and weskit and gravel piled in pyramids,
    Geese and swan glide to compete for bread crusts and seed.
    Herons stand immobile, frozen in time, till, startling the surveyor, they seize the prey.
    Above all trees stand sentinel, ancient guardians, towering above all, beneath all.
    Many come to jog or walk, dog lease in hand, but they do not know it as I do.
    I know it’s seasons, its ebb and flow.
    I know where the herons nest, where the kingfisher comes to ply his trade.
    I know where the wild iris grows, the generations of robins that dwell among the holly.
    I’ve traversed the lakes in summer, sun on my face, wind catching the sails.
    I’ve walked the paths in winter, in snow and rain, misty mornings and blood-red sunsets.
    Like a lover, I know this place, its moods its secrets. The things it hides from others.

    Liked by 7 people

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  8. I would like to share this poem about my home.

    A Grey Place?

    This is a grey place,
    there’s no denying.
    Grey slate, grey granite,
    grey houses built of both.
    And it rains a lot, there’s no denying.
    Vertical, or horizontal, or swirling rain
    falling greyly from heavy misty clouds.
    But when caught by a sunbeam
    it makes glistening slides
    shimmering across the slate
    and falls in bright white tails
    or snakes like silver
    where the mountains leak it.
    And spills heavily over rocks,
    it’s foaming, frothing, yellow ruffed
    cascades catching rainbows as they crash
    then spitting them back out
    in a fine spray of colours.
    And now there’s no grey
    in the dark blue, black sky
    filled with gold and silver twinkles.
    No grey at all in this place now,
    there’s no denying.

    Lynn White

    Liked by 2 people

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