Tag Archives: Poetry

Writing 101 – Day Twenty

Today’s Prompt: Tell us the story of your most-prized possession.

It’s the final day of the challenge already?! Let’s make sure we end it with a bang — or, in our case, with some furious collective tapping on our keyboards. For this final assignment, lead us through the history of an object that bears a special meaning to you.

A family heirloom, a flea market find, a childhood memento — all are fair game. What matters is that, through your writing, you breathe life into that object, moving your readers enough to understand its value.

My writing journals are probably THE most important things that I have. If there was a fire they would be the first things I’d grab along with my identification. I treasure them because they contain pieces of me. Not many people hand write anything anymore. I have very rarely allowed anyone to read them although I will share typed copies of the poems I have written. I have personal notes I have written in the margins that I just don’t want to share. Some things I just keep close to the vest. I love the way the pages smell when I open them. At times, I run my fingertips along the page to feel the way the pen marks have indented the pages. I can tell what my mood was when I wrote the piece according to how deep the grooves are in the paper. I can recall what I feeling when I look at the words on the page. I feel like my energy is inside these journals. When I am lacking inspiration, I will often pick one at random and thumb through just to see where the pages land and read. Looking back helps me remember how far I have come in my writing. My journals have souls.

Writing 101 – Day Seventeen

Day Seventeen: Your Personality on the Page

Today’s Prompt: We all have anxieties, worries, and fears. What are you scared of? Address one of your worst fears.

I am afraid…
I am afraid…
I am afraid…
I am deathly afraid of spiders.
I fear that I will not make it.
I have set goals I fear I may not achieve.
I fear that some people think that my accomplishments are their own.
So much pressure
Pressure weighing on my shoulders
My shoulders are in pain from carrying all these people.
I wish I didn’t stress at crunch time.
As crazy it sounds, I seem to do my best work under pressure.
I fear I can’t keep running on fumes.
I fear failure so much it scares me.
I have heard that failure moves you towards success.
I haven’t been in that space yet.
I’ve been disappointed in myself because I didn’t do the best I thought I could.
I am afraid…
I am afraid…
I am afraid to doubt myself.
I am afraid of discontentment.
I am afraid that I will become bitter and cold from the weight of discrimination and institutionalized racism that I face daily.
I fear for the safety of not just the men and boys in my family but all black men and boys.
I am afraid that too much has been done that we will never recover from.
I am afraid the reparations you seek will never be enough.
I afraid I cannot live up to expectation of the superwoman myth.
I fear that my humanity makes me empathetic.
I fear that I cry too much.
I fear that I am not enough.
I fear the echoes of loneliness.
I am afraid that my anxiety will become worst.
I am afraid…
I am afraid…
I am afraid…
I am afraid enough is enough.