May the Seasons Change
Where Wild Things Grow Prompt: Round 2
Hello, my weird and wonderful creatives. Wherever you are in the world I hope your pen is full and your mind is in a good place. If it is not, I welcome you here, regardless. I look forward to whatever your version of wild is.
Firstly, I’d like to personally thank everyone for their contribution in our first round. Whether you submitted your work or read and left some claps or a comment, it doesn't matter to me, I’m here for community. It’s an honor to host your work.
With loving arms and open ears, I invite you to let all out. That’s right, I want you to unload your suitcase as if no one is watching, perhaps you want them watching and you need them to hear you. I want you to dance or shout and unleash your inner beast, open your chest so much so, the universe reverberates in response. D r i p your tears, your love, your fears, all over this place.
The Prompt
Welcome to round two of WWTG monthly (ish) prompts. This month I invite you to enter your heart, ask yourself what is sitting inside? as the seasons change, so do we. This month I’d like you try make that connection. Perhaps you’re experiencing an uplift as spring approaches, or a loss as you enter autumn. Maybe you’re reminiscing on an old flame or making big changes in your life.
I’ll kick this off with a piece of my own to follow.
Please see the “Submissions” tab for guidelines on submitting.
Prompts will run on a monthly (ish) cycle for now, which I’ll aim to publish each weekend. Submissions will be accepted from (AEST) 10PM 08th May through to 10 PM 07th June. Please only submit one piece per month.
New Writers:
Please send your submission to: wherewildthingsgrow88@gmail.com, include a link to your Medium draft. You need a Medium account to submit and I’m only accepting previously unpublished work.
Spread the word and let’s get wild up in here.
Last Round “Release Your Wild”
Please see the ”Prompts” tab for guidelines and the all published pieces from last round. In no particular order, I offer you a snippet of each.
To Waste, Don’t Run
Caillan ( ＣΛ I X )
“To waste we run
our lives away,
in body and in speech,
we think we think, we know we know,
we’re all so hard to teach.”
Perdure
Tre L. Loadholt
“the broken twigs of
a lonely tree send spry memories
to my brain and I weep
in the winter wind.”
Fars
Michael Stang
“There is no I without you. Acoustics shine the dolphin sleek, frisky seamless for each other equal down here with something to give. Displacement is for those who don’t think that. Swirl and run your nose up my spine, kiss my belly with yours, go dorsal. Run me down the fathoms where the light fades and no one can see our pinnacle dance.”
Blink
D Abboh
“Cast by moonlight and starlight,
our silhouettes — majestically reconfigured the skyline.
We danced into the fire and let old worlds and new worlds collide.
We stomped the bones of ghosts into dust and ashes —
grabbing fistfuls of beginnings from endings —
picked up the pieces and built bridges over rivers and castles atop hills.
We exhaled full breaths that put forest fires out.”
Gurnang
Steve Williams
“Borrong Gook and her sister bulluk suckled the earth with nourishing water. Mighty beal and other trees grew tall around their banks. Tarrak, green and thick, fringed their margins. Turput and buniya flashed silver in the shallow waters and the joyful little folk of the djirrim thronged and croaked.”
Jungle Beat
Era Garg
“In the hollow of wilderness
an orderly ecstasy pulsates,
a timeless buoyancy embeds
perennial disorder of time,
stashing seeds away in rind
fruits bounce down to earth
bursting open to hum a prelude
preceding vital music of wild,
may jungles multiply in bounty
pivoting rhythm of seasons
so scents of wilderness survive.”
Rhapsody’s Warm Hue
Paul S Markle
“Eyes shut… ears wide open,
tones caressed in black & white,
resonate, coming home
to reside in my bones.
Minor, major and inverse.”
Out There
David Rudder
“The whisper of the nocturne
as stars fall from the sky
the scent of eucalyptus
stay with me till I die.”
Raising A Wild One
Niki Madore
“The world doesn’t know what they have.
If she isn’t strong enough, they’ll abuse her
and mold her and change her.
If she isn’t careful, it will eat her whole.”
About the Poet
Wild Flower (Jess Banks) is an Australian-based writer. Lover of coffee, chocolate, and rum. Excited by nature, adventures, and poetics. Still discovering who she is and openly writing about her faults and triumphs.
© WF, 2021.
