Poetry Prompt Sundays

This week’s prompt by The Literati Mafia

guide words: plane, crane, harp

I wish I heard the harps playing,
as promised to me once,
feel the light of heaven’s grace
fill my soul, empty the pain

I wish I knew of greater heights,
cycles contained, still they haunt
indemnities for debts unpaid,
life’s weight to bare accumulates

no phoenix, I refuse to rise,
from ashes burnt to particles
dispersed by thunder, wind and rain,
fueled by anger, hurt, and rage

I seek to scale the mighty walls
I’ve built around my wounded heart,
soaring above requires wings,
a plane to reach my destiny

I have the tools to build the craft,
then think of my discrepancies,
stay on the ground, known dirt and soil,
familiar in my agony.

Emily Cloward ©


We swayed to the beat of reggae,
both willing surrender to closeness,
hearts booming,
soaking the love like a sponge

when the music was done,
the crowd walked away,
even as we lingered looking at stars, holding closely to moments
profound and fleeting

the weight of the crash
came over me,
thinking you said words you
didn’t say,
fog clearing,
realizing you did just mean
for us to be a summer fling

maybe not,
if I adopt polyamorous views,
couldn’t sink into you,
if only given permission,
a request you can’t bear,
wounds and scar tissue prevent you,
caught up in what ifs and defense,

a replaying of history denies life opportunity to hurt you again,
if you just had a child,
it would all be worth it,
to be left by a lover
you willed to stay,
a lifetime connection formed

children teach the purest love,
motivators for hurdles,
mountains to overcome,
but take it from someone
who has her own,
they solve nothing of pain
or festering wounds

abandonment, ghosting,
they’re here and then gone,
each new knife in the heart,
should keep me by myself,
but it’s just like you said
when we talked on the hill,
my heart stays evergreen,
ready for the next break,
in hopes what I’m seeking is real.

Emily Cloward © 2018