Welcome to this week’s featured writing prompt. Write a poem about reaching or failing to reach a destination. Enjoy! and don’t forget to post your finished work in the comments section.
Photo by Daniela Llano
About Shana ThorntonShana Thornton serves as Editor-in-Chief of Her Circle Ezine. She has an M.A. in English from Austin Peay State University, and writes fiction, interviews and features. She recently completed her first novel about the conflicts and traumas of militarized culture in a family and is currently seeking publication. Read more at http://www.shanathornton.wordpress.com/
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Junk Poem
She’d drive and sing along to the mix tape he’d make before they took off on a road trip, while he’d write poems using the lyrics from each of the songs on the mix tape. Later, after they’d bed down for the night either under the stars if the weather was Indian Summer warm or in a small town Motel, the sort with doors that opened to the outside, he read her the poems from the road. He called them junk poems. She cherished the words like her next breath.
You just surprised me
From across, the great divide
I tell you something
Loves the only house
You got it. I’m on my way to
Hold you in my arms
I knew I’d loved you
I don’t want to lose you,
If my heart had wings
Love gets me every time
Let’s work together
And drive to nowhere
We’ll touch ground somewhere, and
If the world crashes down
We’ve got tonight.
So save up all your tears
And hold me through
All the seasons of love
My dear companion.
I can believe that you’re
In love with me
I only want to be with you
Softly and tenderly
The loving kind
Love like that
Throws a line, and
You made this love a teardrop
We’ve got nothing but love to prove.
All I can do, is
Melt with you, we’re
Together again
I know how it feels to fly
My heart skips a beat
And sings,
How sweet it is to be
Loved by you.
He left her one night, his journal open to the last poem he had written. The paramedic had said it was quick, he probably didn’t feel a thing. Now all she has are those old mix tapes and his journal, it’s pages yellow and frayed from age. She missed him so.