This was another new form and a more personal theme that produced a different kind of poetry for some of you. It touched on the part of us that no other person, however much they care about us, can never really reach. Thanks for responding in the way that you did. And if Ken is reading this, I may have dreamt it, but I was convinced that you sent in a poem. If you did, it’s disappeared. If not, there’s always another prompt 🙂
There’ll be another prompt tomorrow. Hope you’ll all join in 🙂
Sarah’s poem is a litany of hurt, big and small, building up to a wonderful strong finale.
Kat’s poem reminded me how different the pain of childbirth is to the completely unproductive pain of anything else.
Phylor’s poem is like a waking nightmare, evocative of the night fears that fade with the light.
I didn’t think Lady Lee would be able to resist bringing sunshine and rainbows to alleviate her painful story 🙂
In Manpreet’s poem, she shows how physical pain is only the surface of the hurt which goes far deeper than the flesh wound, and in this case, helps to change a life.
Sri’s poem draws on a recent atrocity in one of those parts of the world the rest of us can happily ignore. Thanks Sri for making me a little less ignorant.
Merril writes very touchingly about the pain of the survivor, riddled with guilt but with a burden to live for the others.
Leara’s poem delves into the hopeless mess of our thoughts when a deep hurt destroys reason and there seems to be no way forward.
Matthew’s poem is probably the darkest of all. No hope in this one, the only relief being the quiet and calm of the end.
Louise’s poem, using imagery with no physical bounds, like Sarah’s reminds us that it’s partly pain that lets us know we are alive.
And here is Ken’s poem, squeezed in after the doors closed. It’s a painful poem, and it’s for real, so commiserations are called for as well as congratulations on writing a short order poem 🙂