Quiet Journey

We’ve all heard that phrase, “It’s not the destination, but the journey.” Let’s put that idea to the test today.

Write a poem where you start with the last line and work your way to it. It’ll be all about the journey you take to get there. Need a jump-off point to help you along your way?

Here’s a photo:


And a video:

Let them influence your words. If you’d like an extra challenge, be sure to include the word “quiet” in your piece.

We’ve made a small change to the link up. There will no longer be a link up post on Friday. Please link your entry here, either with a pingback or in the comments. You’ve got until Friday at midnight EST to link up. We will then take all the links and ask the community to vote on their favorite on Saturday.

The winner will be featured on Sunday and be entered for a chance to be included in our Spring edition of the magazine.

25 thoughts on “Quiet Journey

  1. First I want to say that this is difficult for me as my ‘poetry’ generally is inspired by strong emotions and a certain person; however I thank you for the opportunity to stretch my notions of writing with your prompts. While still not pleased with the results, I am a bit happier with this one and hopefully I will get where I want to be without anguish and despair being my only fuel.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Lonely Stairway

    Tying twin laces my eyes drift
    I note two empty hooks
    White porcelain gleaming bare
    While a shelf is missing four books
    And six hangers are strewn with no care

    Slipping on my jacket I stop short.
    In a space all too still and silent
    I yearn to yell and scream
    But vow to remain quiet
    Wishing it were but a dream
    Walking out with wallet and keys
    There it sets upon the table
    What was meant to please
    Can’t leave without it … unwilling and unable

    Tap, tap, tap; dash the way down
    My push opens the door
    As I hit the ground
    My hair bristles in a breeze
    Traffic noises seem muffled
    Like rustling autumn leaves
    With my head wrapped in a fog
    Whirring thoughts damper the din
    Slapping leather soles on pavement
    The lone sound I seem to let in

    Too quickly my last steps are near
    Neck craning, sill against my knee
    Into window panes I peer
    Through my face reflected back at me
    In a crowded room
    A solitary table’s chairs are empty

    With heavy heart I clutch my gift
    Left standing outside looking in
    Cut-off from clinking cutlery and dishes
    Gazing upon unfilled goblets
    Barren bowls and unmet wishes

    Liked by 4 people

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