Writing Prompt
POEM STARTER
Submitted by Maranda Quinn
Beneath the Surface
Write a poem with this theme in mind.
Writings
Threat Of Drowning
Within me there’s an ocean vast and deep, endless and cold and dark as the sky on an overcast night. I fear often that if I misstep, I might slip and plunge into its depths, that it might consume me, rendering me nothing but a soul drowned in my own well.
Curious that my body can contain its infinity, the ponderous swell of it, small as I am. But that’s just it- it’s always there, exerting press...
In The Silence Of The Night
The night spreads, thick as velvet,
a dark weight pressing close,
and I lie in its arms,
swallowed by the silence—
no stars to guide, no moon to soften,
only the shadows, breathing beside me.
Beneath this hush, a scream coils,
silent, fierce, rising sharp,
a raw cry clawing its way up—
caught in my chest like jagged glass,
its edge scraping, ripping through
the tender walls of my heart.
The peac...
The Sun.
It’s times like these
Where epiphany meets the horizon.
And you realize just how good life’s been to you.
Yet,
ever yet.
It’s still hard.
Really hard.
Times when you get real aquatinted with lost.
And pain so thick you can’t breathe.
Or move.
I’m having a hard time moving lately.
So I took a walk.
And I talked with the Son.
And He told me what He thought.
He told me to breath.
And he...
Evil
I’m so evil.
I gave a man an opportunity to make a living for himself,
Then took it away,
Because all he ever thought of was himself.
I stepped down so he could rise,
But his ego?
It had me mad, had me all messed up inside.
I’m so evil.
I truly wanted him to succeed,
But he forgot the rule—
Never bite the hand that feeds.
It was never about the money,
But his switch-up?
Man, that was funny.
Th...
Fake
Friendship is a construct.
Freedom is a lie.
Fires burn whatever’s in their path.
Folktales someday die.
Apples fall so far from the tree.
A parent is a myth.
‘Always’ is a made up word.
Actually, every word is.
Kings and queens fall.
Keys are hidden far beneath.
Knifes are plunged into chests.
Killers get away scot-free.
Everything is stupid.
Elves drown in lakes.
Endings happen every day.
Ev...
Ripples
Under these dull eyes,
An anguish wishes to be free.
Those grey skies,
This hope dying to be.
Beneath this heavy heart,
A sorrow soul needs rest.
What was once art,
Is lead in the breast.
Inside these tired lungs,
Air searches for a home.
An exit atop these rungs,
So sadness may finally roam.
Cracked are these soles,
Lost on this familiar road.
No longer my roles,
My echoes the final load.
…
...
Blood
People say they cut themself a to cope with what’s beneath the surface,
But what about cutting to find comfort under the surface ,
When your thoughts are blurred and foggy,
When your body’s on hyperactive,
And you cut,
You slash and scrape but not becuase you your coping with the pain,
Becuase you can’t recognize your own pain,
It’s as if your heart is shouting to you but it’s a million miles away...
Beneath The Surface.
On the outside, they are pretty.
They tell sweet lies.
They take your soul.
They lie.
They cheat.
They steal.
They hate.
They have rage.
There is a war inside them.
They made their choice though.
They had a choice to be good.
But they chose greed and hate over love and peace.
They tortured us.
They took our sight.
They took our brains.
They took over.
A lot have fallen.
Can they be ...
Rift Lake
Still waters run deep,
Behold the anaerobic desert of my mind:
Old grudges, words unsaid, sink to the bottom
And calcify.
Down and down and down,
I could drown a thousand times
In the time it would take me to open my mouth
So I scream.
Not out loud.
No.
Not where anybody could possibly hear—
Beneath the surface....