Our goal is to provide you with several prompts each week to inspire a poem or short story.
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To submit, just put your poem or short story in the "Comments" section and hit "Publish".
To see your poem, you will need to click "Comments" again.
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Use these prompts and the ensuing poems or stories that they generate and get your writing out there in the world.
Today's poem or short story prompt: "donut or doughnut".
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ReplyDeleteThem Poor Sad Bastards
DeleteMy mother said there were two kinds of people in the world
Those that liked their doughnuts custard-filled
And those who liked them cream-filled
As I watched the morning doughnut eaters
I almost agreed
But, Ma, I said
There's a bigger world out there
There's got to be at least four types of people in the world
Because you didn't include those that liked their doughnuts glazed
And those that liked them cake
I guess you're right, she said
You got me there
There's at LEAST four kinds of people in the world
At least, I concurred
But two minutes later a woman walked into the shop
Pale with lipstick too red
Thin and angular
Her scarf Hermes
Her bag St. Laurent
She ordered tea
Asked for honey
Were the to-go cups styrofoam or paper
As if that mattered
Like the sign that read in excited lettering
"All are doughnuts are now trans-fat free"
Then there's the fifth kind, Ma said
Them that don't eat doughnuts at all
Those I call
Them poor sad bastards
Catherine Powers
July 10, 2015
(website prompt 7/10 donuts)
ReplyDeleteWhat California Lacks
Something as simple as the memory of
fresh baked peanut butter cookies on Piedmont Avenue
or the homemade salsa at La Imperial
reminds me that burgers and beer
or hot dogs at a Tigers game
can never really satisfy me.
The used book stores are gone.
Except for King's --
the big blue building being held together
by a workman's glove --
to which,
no doubt,
most of the books from the defunct mom and pop shops
migrated after their parents demise.
And, even at their best,
those stores never quite had the texture and promise
the smell and mystery
the dark corners and unreachable top-shelf stacks
of a Moe's or a Green Apple.
If we got out of bed in time
we could spend a few hours at the ocean
before driving back to make 2nd shift --
me in retail and
her at the railroad.
And the weekend decision wasn't
"a movie or just stay in?"
It was
"should we drive up to the Wine Country
or down to Monterey
or take the train into the City to eat" --
though that last one lost some of its charm
as the years went by.
You would think that,
out there in California,
at my age,
those would be enough.
You wouldn't think that,
back here in Michigan,
at my age,
in the orbit of Phoenix Detroit,
in the "if you don't like the weather,
wait an hour" rust belt,
in our college town with its bike lanes
and hand-crafted beers,
I would feel find that I traded
those smells
and sights
and sounds
and tastes
for the excitement of a few inches of snow
and a big, open parking lot.
Mike Fedel
July 2015