Today, consider this quote as the inspiration for your poem. 

Imagination is the true magic carpet.

~Norman Vincent Peale

It’s as simple as that.  Let your imagination run amok. Or write a “magic” poem. Maybe take a magic carpet ride, tell us where you’d go! There’s more than the obvious at work here. Where will you find your inspiration?




One flies on carpet.
The other, her umbrella.
Both take me with them.


Sometimes I believe
if I laugh hard enough, I’ll
float to the ceiling.


Don’t be surprised to
witness me clicking my heels
when I get homesick.


See, books are more real
than our realest lives, and “nothing”
can take that away.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019




A master of words and a need to create,
describes the man to a tee.
Any stretch of his imagination
becomes a march to places
that neither street car, nor train can take him.
It makes him change his thinking,
bringing all calls to share  his mind
an invitation to become faint of heart or die.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2019


57 thoughts on “PROMPT #251 – AND I QUOTE! #5


    There’s no need to do anything drastic
    when your poem’s bereft of a mastic;
    just imagine words flowing
    till your work resumes growing,
    for the brain’s a fantastic elastic.

  2. A great quartet of literary travelers, Marie. That’s putting imagination to work for you. Wistful indeed. Convinced? I never needed convincing. I know where your words will take us!

  3. .

    Out on the outskirts of life,
    in the unseen spaces of society,
    the places between the lines,
    the ones which require imagination,
    and an urge to inform,
    fit the poets.
    At the crossroads of isolation and creation,
    the poetry for poetry’s sake crowd lingers.
    Not really true bohemians,
    they seek to testify more than abandon.
    Their art form calls, and they answer,
    meeting at the nexus of talent and genius.
    Persisting through failure on the path to success,
    none of them really wish to starve.
    Most want to find the yellow brick road,
    preaching along the journey, defining taste,
    making music to humanize the world.
    They create so as not to stand still,
    each work moving them
    a millionth of an inch,
    in one direction or another,
    from the intersection of meaningful and mundane.
    Some will find their way home.
    Most will trod the path unseen,
    forever concealed from recognition.

  4. .
    Almost Daily,

    I wake up in wonder.
    According to Socrates,
    I’ll soon be wise,
    knowing you gotta
    be a little crazy
    to have an imagination.
    No matter,
    I’m glad to wake up
    with just one decision
    to make each day:
    to be happy.

  5. Incongruous

    When I was in elementary school,
    adults would ask me if I liked it.
    I said that I liked school but,
    I liked summer vacation better.

    The truth is, I’d sit at my desk
    gazing out the window
    imagining the fun things
    I’d rather be doing.

    It didn’t seem right to be indoors
    when I could be exploring, building,
    biking, pretending, playing among
    fall colors, fun snow or spring puddles.

    To me it seemed incongruous
    that in order to be educated
    you had to do something stupid
    like sit indoors on a nice day.


    When I am bored then I just look
    inside the pages of a book.
    I can go places every day
    that I would really never stay.

    I can be frightened half to death
    then close the book to catch my breath.
    I can explore new occupations
    or take some long dreamed of vacations.

    There is no place that I can’t be
    when I am in a book, you see.
    The words don’t limit my fantasy
    my mind takes flight, wild and free.

    A movie’s fine and music’s pretty,
    I like touring a famous city,
    but nothing helps me find the glory
    quite like reading an awesome story.

    The characters become my friends,
    I can picture how this ends,
    I can color things my way
    and save some for another day.

    There is not one T.V. Station
    that sparks my imagination
    the way that words upon a page
    can my entire mind engage.

    So if I am missing you should look
    where I like to read a book.
    I might be there or far away
    living scenes from yesterday.

  7. .

    Love Story

    I can’t imagine a day without her,
    a day when I don’t think about her.
    Of course, there would still be wine,
    the sun would yet provide its shine,
    but surely not as brightly
    and purely not as lightly.
    I can’t imagine a life without her,
    through work, play, joy and strife without her.
    She’s everything I need to know,
    she’s everything I need, and so,
    our love is written in concrete,
    not always gay, nor honey sweet,
    our quiet passion a poet’s dream,
    mates for life, so it would seem.
    All this and more I can say about her,
    I can’t imagine a way without her.

  8. Who needs a magic carpet fine
    When Grandma’s braided rug t’was mine?
    Depression Years frugality
    For me became stability
    My favorite amenities:
    Cable accessibility
    Musical sensibility
    Biblical sensitivity
    Surprise guest’s geniality
    Community activities
    My Grandma’s braided rug defined
    The road to once upon a time

  9. Pingback: PROMPT #251 – AND I QUOTE! #5 | the well of lost ...

  10. interesting springboard for a lazy Sunday –

    I’ve wandered this way:

    What feels, in this skin
    s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g taut, a fatlip
    bloom from a dusted knuckle-up
    or as swollen for helium’s GiDdy squeak
    pitch; what is to Light up!
    with hot breath, in this moist
    masticating womb, certainly not
    dissolving cotton-candy lace, wind-spun
    on wings; now that’s flight –
    ; how is it, shining in a viscous way?
    slining thin effervescence, a semi-lucid
    transparency, of being Blown
    through a loop lahdeeloop ohing mouth
    a_quivertrembleshivershimmy just on
    the cusp before taking non-footed root

    — to be the perfect sphere

    a glistening, mother-of-pearl sheen –
    this sliding-scale of hues
    blues, greens, yellow, orange seams-less
    a smattering of red
    cascading into the purple low throat-notes
    and the slim lipped pink —
    ; Oh! dazzle dance, pouty poppet bright
    subtle slamming delight
    bubble-gum pink, a fizz-whiz tango in the sky
    – f-l-o-a-t-i-n-g easily, as lazy as shrimp gumbo
    simmering in a pot, a magic carpet ride.

    Oh yes! perhaps I’m half-crocked on this champagne idea,
    high-drunk on the wonder of this care-less meal
    but what does Bright Bubble-gum Pink feel
    – like

    I’d like to be —


    so that’s my deal today – thank you 🙂 have a great rest of yours and a wonderful week –

    • Welcome, wildchild! I don’t believe we have met. I’m Marie Elena – co-host of this site with Walt Wojtanik. Very nice to meet and engage with you! The whimsy, rhyme, imagination, and wonder of your piece made me read it over and over. Plenty there to draw me in, and plenty to make me ponder the blanks. Hope to see more of you here! I find your poetic voice intriguing!

      • thanks Marie 🙂 or is it Marie Elena? I should have introduced myself – my bad; I tend to be shy at first, so I’ll play along to prompts and then squeak out my name, later – LOL. You can call me Pat.
        thanks so much for the generous comment 🙂 — just letting the mind play with ideas for it – sometimes it’s pleasant to not be so serious 😉

        • I go by either Marie or Marie Elena. Whatever strikes someone’s fancy is just fine with me! I’ll have an easy time with your name, as that was my mother’s name. ❤

          How did you discover us?

          • I’ve stumbled by several times, over the past 3 years or so – so most likely tagged along someone who frequented other “wordy/poets” sites. I must have seen something intriguing as prompted from here, etc. so visited and “lurked” 😉

            It’s always good to find different spaces, where words are featured, and there are tasty morsels to consider for one’s learning and inspiration, and of course, new faces 🙂

  11. Imagine

    “Imagine there’s no Heaven”
    Begins a song by the late John Lennon
    “It’s easy if you try”
    Not for me
    “No Hell below us
    Above us only sky”
    Then I ask you “Why?”
    Why would anything matter?
    If this is all there is to life
    Why would anyone care?

    I believe in Heaven and
    In Hell way down below
    And I believe in God’s command
    To let the whole world know
    What I can’t imagine is
    A life absent of Hope
    That’s why I’m not falling for
    The cynics’ rope-a-dope
    They can spread their non-belief
    And say what they will say
    I’ve read through His Holy Book
    And God will win the day
    Still we need to pray for them
    And all those lost in sin
    Hopefully they heed the Word
    And Heaven let’s them in

    • Though there is something engaging and almost romantic about John Lennon’s famous song, “Imagine there’s no heaven?” I’d shudder to think. I like where this prompt took you.

  12. With Satin Silver Wings

    With wings of satin silver
    I fly to every country,
    and when I land, I speak
    the language.

    Heart-to-heart with
    my dogs last night.
    Never knew they had
    so many complaints.
    We ironed things straight.

    I think of a beach
    with aqua water,
    and silken sand.
    When the scene is
    complete in my mind,
    I am there.

  13. This is pure loveliness, Sara! But the line that struck my heart is, “… and when I land, I speak the language.” I don’t know exactly how to explain how much I see in those few lines, but it has to do with instantaneously understanding upon landing, the utmost importance of communicating in the foreign language, and the sort of grounded whimsy of that (for lack of better wording). The heart behind that short line struck a chord with me. It even made my eyes mist over. Wonderful piece, Sara.

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