poetry prompt

Where I’m From: a Poem

A prompt from thomaskneelandpoetry:

write a poem about where you come from.

From a place where a house feels less like
home
and more like
a museum.
From a mother whose voice pierced
and a father who used a belt
to prove himself.
From sibling rivalry and brothers
who were class clown and golden.
From a place where I was simultaneously
never enough & too much.
From a place where I was silenced,
so a pen became my voice.
From a place where I used metaphor
to express thought
because reality hit too close to home.
From a place where a house never felt like
a home.

Isabelle Palerma

Her Beauty in Full: a Poem

As April starts Global Poetry Writing Month, I figured I’d kick off the month with a poem of my own. The prompt comes from raeonpaper:

the moon’s yearning whisper.

The deterioration of her internal language
results in an abject pleading,
a fullness only seen from behind the gauze
of cloud,
the thin of cloth, the shape of pregnancy.
A moon’s desolate murmur.

She speaks in a low tone,
too soft for most,
yet those who listen
know.

Isabelle Palerma

The Girl Underneath: a Poem

A poetry prompt from elenaspoetry, “a letter to my stranger self”.

You grew and shrank like that girl
in Wonderland.
Drink me, eat me, taste me.
But nobody knew what to expect of you.
You were constantly shifting to be who they wanted,
but
they weren’t satisfied.

One day,
you looked in a mirror
and dissolved
into a million pieces,
breaking apart and yet unrecognizable
as a stranger is.

You thought you’d finally know yourself
underneath all those layers,
but the truth is
you’d hidden away so long,
you had become unfamiliar to even you.

I wish I could remind you
of who you were,
but I’m only now starting to unravel the girl underneath.

She is lovely, searching, yet
something phenomenal nonetheless.

If you see her,
let her know I’m looking for her
too.

Isabelle Palerma

A Hollow Heart: a Poem

A misreading of a prompt from Kody Granger: a hollow heart.

She carved out a space to make it home.
She crafted a village inside, and yet
each time they hurt her,
her anguish made her burrow
further inside a place
nobody decided to look,
no one bothered to explore
deeper until it was thought empty,
deeper until it was thought vacant,
deeper still until they accused her
of having a hollow heart.

Isabelle Palerma

Unlike You: a Poem

“Unlike you . . .” a prompt from Kay A.

In less than a month,
unlike you to care about the wreckage of the Titanic that is my heart.
I have witnessed you stampede on
and trample me barefoot.
Yet,
the teeth you bared is what
I have come to expect.

Family taught me
(for better or worse)
to murder with mercy.
When you were flashing your baby teeth,
sharpening like knives,
I was practicing my smiles
in polished glass.

Unlike you to offer condolences
or express empathy,
and yet, the past few days,
while Lazarus has been in the tomb,
a different side of you has been exposed.

Unlike you to show warmth,
still a reptilian cold underneath,
but the air is a bit milder now – less frost,
less chill.

Unlike you to offer benevolence and yet,
a crack of a smile,
a beginnings of generosity.

Is it possible you were murdered by my mercy?
Killed by my kindness?

Or did New Year’s resolutions just fall
a few days behind on this calendar?

I’m not one to gaze the gift horse
in the mouth,
but I do have my suspicions
when you were flashing those fangs,
honing them like knives,
and are now sweet as spun sugar.

Just call me Doubting Thomas
if your kindness only lasts as long as
Lazarus was in the tomb.