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Ripples on water https://writersrelief.com/2018/12/14/125-of-the-best-poetry-writing-prompts-for-poets-writers-relief/
A calm surface. The lake is peaceful; still. The setting is serene, To think otherwise is obscene, And yet I feel a chill. There's something that is brewing Deep beneath the calm. You cannot see it yet, But once it’s there i’d bet, You’ll wish you had been gone. It’s rising up so fast, There’s ripples all around. You look around and take a breath, Hope that there's something left, Jump in, and hope that you don’t drown.
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Write a story about transformationhttps://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/general/write-a-story-about-transformation/
Just like the old oak leaves Shrivel up and wilt, Just like a piece of fruit Ferments into the silt, Just like you outgrow Every favorite shirt, Change can be a bad thing, And oh how change can hurt. But just like a small songbird Grows up and it sings, Just like a young caterpillar Becomes a butterfly with wings, Just like a piece of paper Can be folded to catch adrift, Change can be a good thing, And it can be a gift. Write a story about someone returning to their craft after a long hiatus.https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/general/write-a-story-about-someone-returning-to-their-cra/
NOTE: I thought that this WPW would be a good fit for the first time back in a month or two. Enjoy! Alexis hadn’t picked up a pen in over five years. At least she hadn’t with the intention of writing a story. The metal felt cool and unfamiliar in her hand. Her worries started pulling at her mind. Everything had gotten so busy all at once… Throughout all of the hardship and work and struggle, Alexis had lost the time to write. It stung at her core everyday. Throughout her childhood, she could sit at her desk for hours and hours on end just writing word after word; 1,000, 2,000, 5,000, 10,000, just like that. It was as natural for her as breathing. But then school came, and moving away, and everything that came with living life as an adult. At the beginning, not writing was worrying, but okay. “I’ll just write double tomorrow,” she told herself. “I deserve a break.” But then days became weeks, and those weeks became months, and then those months became years. Truth be told, she hadn’t even realized how much time had passed. Writing had become the last thing on her mind, even though it felt as if she was ignoring a part of herself. Now it was all too obvious how much she had lost. Still, the fears struck at her heart. “What if I’m not good enough?” “I’ve lost so much time to improve my skill…” “What if I can’t write anymore?” So many “what if’s” that made her want to set down this pen, go back to her couch, turn on her TV, and forget about this part of herself again. But that wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be. Writing brought her so much happiness that she had now lost, and she knew that if she let it go now it’d be gone for forever. So, she pushed past the pain and the anxiety and the worry. Her hand was shaky and the pen now was coated in a thin layer of cold sweat, but she didn’t focus on that. Instead, Alexis set the pen to the paper and began to write, “Once upon a time…” |
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