Our month long excursion into poetry had ended. Again, it was a rocky road. The subject didn’t please everyone. After starting out like gangbusters, we sailed into the sunset  with our loyal poets who were able to complete the task! We’ve survived. It always was about our survival.

And so we’ll begin the stretch run to the end of the year touting that fact. Write a survival poem. A completion poem perhaps. What situation (not thinking poetic challenge here) were you able to “survive?”  Which task have you completed with which you are extremely proud?

Again, thank you to all our poets for giving an effort in trying the July prompts. As we get back to “normal” here (at least we can have that) remember that our Sunday Seed is posted weekly. And our Inform Poet hits on Wednesday. Friday’s “For Your Consideration” Flash Fiction/poem prompt will be offered every other Friday. Enjoy the rest of your poetic summer and we’ll see you in the garden!



She was planted with care,
right there
where her dark leaves and white flowers
would give hours of joy each day.
But it hasn’t worked that way.

Years have passed
since she last bloomed.
She seemed entombed
immured, as she simply

until Keith dug her up,
changed the makeup below,
which allowed the free flow
of water to root, and
we can’t dispute the wonder.

Once freed from earth’s clay,
we saw growth the first day.
Now she won’t just survive.
She’ll thrive.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020


SURVIVING LIVES, by Walter J Wojtanik

They come together to live apart,
this art of deception is for both hearts protection.
And yet time passes and two horses asses
have perfected the dance. Romance is feigned
and nothing is gained in the pretense.
Their recompense is small consolation.
They can’t live with; can’t live without.
They stay together for the sake of survival!

67 thoughts on “PROMPT #297 – SURVIVAL


    The sun beat down upon the grass
    segueing from green to brown;
    a sight repeated in early July
    on lawns all over the town.

    The sight continued through the month
    and poisoned August too,
    leaving robins bobbing to and fro
    in attitudes of rue.

    Now and then a shower came
    and phased the brown to yellow,
    which, within the context of the heat,
    seemed somehow almost mellow.

    But eventually the autumn came,
    with rains that left a sheen
    of gratitude on village lawns
    segueing from brown to green.

  2. Marie and Walt, your poems have an alpha-omega feel, casting survival is entirely different lights. Set a range of tomes, then did, albeit elegantly in both cases.

  3. Survival Etiquette

    She was the maid of honor whose accomplishments
    were never begun. He just completed eleven twenty-nine
    and has enrolled in distance learning through a program
    for vets. Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean
    you don’t let somebody hold the door for you. Think
    of the grease that keeps society in motion, and sail through,
    smiling. Love your brother/sister every day. If you forget
    because you were cleaning the oven, tomorrow lump
    them in with the NBA and love them twice as hard and while
    suspending gravity. You will surrender because you’re
    unaccustomed. That’s life. You will still have Paris.

  4. H


    We’re all worthy of
    a few daily moments of
    peace, calm and quiet,
    but It takes a lot of love
    to survive those
    husband and wife arguments,
    the ones about nothing.
    It seems, the brighter the light,
    the darker the shadow,
    yet one can find love in both.
    Experience and time both teach,
    happiness is always within our reach.


    By: Nurit Israeli

    “The end is where we start from.”
    ~ T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding

    So many things that could have
    didn’t end me.

    It started before my beginning,
    when I was an almost miscarriage.

    Still unstoried, I insisted on
    staying in my mother’s womb,

    until I was strong enough
    to come out and carry her burdens,

    my staying power as deep
    as her vulnerability.

    Ever since, the cancers
    and the wars didn’t end me.

    I kept on weaving my story
    through obstacle courses,

    the sweetness of survival.

    And all that didn’t kill me
    didn’t make me stronger.

    It made me soft enough
    to fit into all sorts of spaces,

    find a path time and again,
    move onward, in spite.

    Now, seventy seven years
    past my starting point,

    I no longer lunge forward.
    No, now I linger.

    And I am astounded
    by how profoundly I hold on,

    how, so late, I take my time
    practicing beginnings,

    starting anew through endings –

  6. Unsung

    You look for the perfect curl
    white foam icing blue water
    and where there’s a perfect wave
    there will be the trough
    manic highs lows of this
    bipolarity already surging so

    when you watch leaves flutter
    closed on the cover of the book
    its red lettering blazing on black
    gloss spelling out Heart of Darkness
    it is to be shaken with the knowledge
    that you can elect in this moment
    gifted by Conrad to choose the horror

    that was Kurtz even in his last breath
    or the unsung heroism of Marlow
    who was most heroic as a survivor
    pushing through African jungles
    that wrapped their various lianas around
    his body his heart chewed by vermin

    scurrying always closer the way
    you awaken to wraiths and beat them
    back always back knowing
    they’ll never go away only recede
    into the darkness the very heart
    of you that rides cresting waves
    and so you take your waxed board

    and go again to walk on water
    prove to yourself that you can
    even if only for those brief moments
    sun gilding your body before
    before you splash into ocean
    subsumed and gasping as if
    fleeing demons and you are
    until you see again the perfect curl
    battle upright, choose to survive.

  7. Walt: Your offering this morning brought me to tears. The difficulty. The staying power. The punch of your always-powerful words. The heart of the man who pens them …

  8. I entered July fully intending to center on Poetry. But I had a dream (Night time one) that refused to go away. I got waylaid and now have a rough draft of a 43,000 story!!

    Seeded by a dream – a story ending – writer seeks to find the beginning as bit by bit a story unfolds: drama, people, places, hidden secrets exposed, lives changed and dreams come true.
    Poem prompt tripped up by
    prose to weave story and ride
    the waves of July


  9. Scavenger Hunt Survival

    There are fifty items on the list
    and I hope to find each one.
    The challenge looks to be great fun,
    oh, I really can’t resist.

    I first saw water falling in a cloudy mist.
    Then, one night, I even caught the setting of the sun.
    There are fifty items on the list
    and I hope to find each one.

    I clicked at friends and strangers, determined to persist.
    I’ll just keep snapping photos until the game is done.
    A purple chicken on a train, a statue on the run
    birds on a boat, ice cream graffiti – whew, some I’m gonna miss!
    There are fifty items on the list
    and I hope to find each one.

    (I survived a photography scavenger hunt, 2 twelve hr road trips, and three weeks playing with 8yr olds. Where did July go?)

  10. Self Analysis

    Many of my actions
    remain mysteries
    to me. Yet, at
    my ripe old age
    of seventy-one,
    some glint-hints
    of light show

    I have moved
    often, and still
    ponder the reason(s)
    for these moves,
    and what justifications
    I gave myself.

    Low self-esteem
    is easy to bathe
    in. You have to
    get up, dry off.
    Even if you never
    find the reason(s)
    behind this emotion.
    Know that you are
    a survivor in this life–
    in your life.

  11. Vanessa’s Homecoming

    Vanessa woke to a surprise
    Her room had disappeared
    Around her flowers and bright light
    It was so lovely here!

    Her wheelchair, too, had gone away
    She stood on her two feet
    Her voice came out expressing praise
    A melody so sweet

    Then she looked up and there was Mom
    With Jesus by her side
    He turned to Nessa with a smile
    And opened His arms wide

    Vanessa ran to His embrace
    Her pain was also gone
    She had a question to ask Him
    He nodded, to ask on

    Why did you leave me there so long
    When it’s so lovely here?
    I couldn’t walk and couldn’t talk
    For years and years and years

    You were not there for you, dear child
    But others all around
    Your cheerful smile and joyful squeal
    Let love and hope abound

    When people saw you smiling there
    They learned that they could be
    More grateful, hopeful and content
    That best things came for free

    And when you hugged them very tight
    They knew that they were loved
    Not just by your sweet self alone
    But by the Lord above

    And Rhonda needed you around
    To her you brought great light
    Your “I love you” so warmed her heart
    And made things seem alright

    The Peterses were glad to say
    You were their family
    They took you with them everywhere
    From sea to shining sea

    The Hunts stepped in the nick of time
    And made your last years great
    To love you to the very end
    I picked them for that date

    Ness walked with Jesus and her mom
    With each step her joy grew
    And she looked forward to the day
    When loved ones came there, too.

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