Where is the will of the cup to overcome the sword? Share your thoughts β¦ perhaps inspiration β¦ in poetry. Leave your work or a link to it in the comments section below. All are invited β encouraged β to participate: novice, emerging or pro. Works shared on theme will be published here next Tuesday. If this is your first time participating in Wednesday Writing Prompt, please send a brief bio and photograph to thepoetbyday gmail.
This will be used to introduce you to readers. You have until Monday, April 9 at 8 p. PDT to respond. Shreds of ideas conflate and implode in the city. Misconnected selves await, lone and lurching, Fresh numbness to kill the face of the unknown. Action for re-action, tornado for square yard.
Ambitious chimneys pump carbon into skies: Deflated vistas, echoed in angry eyes. Life all around β nature on shutdown. We lost the midday sun to a rash of window-blinds, Partitioning humankind.
Demolishing starlight. Like Liked by 1 person. Well-done and welcome. Thanks for your poetry, ruthlessly elegant. Hold our hands over our ears, close our eyes at the blood delight we can no longer stand. Like Like. The awful conscience cavalry and infantry swept down from their concealed positions in the surrounding hills, blocked the road and engaged my unsuspecting good feeling from three sides.
My good feelings quickly split into three parts. Westernmost was attacked by awful conscience cavalry and forced into the lake, leaving the other two groups with no way to retreat. Sigmund wooes Sword Spirit agin younger kings. Thas won battle but not war.
