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wetpetals
a little escape. instagram: @wetpetalspoetry
76 Posts • 328 Followers • 184 Following
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Challenge
Challenge of the Month III: January
New beginnings, a fresh start. A new chapter in an old story, or a new story altogether. Write about the start of something new. Fiction or non-fiction, poetry or Prose. $100 purse to our favorite entry. Outstanding entries will be shared with our publishing partners.
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wetpetals
• 150 reads

who

I am a ghost.

But I don’t haunt anyone.

I don’t want to be a burden,

Or be bothersome.

I wander unseen,

Unheard.

I quietly observe.

And I wonder,

If I could get my life back,

If I would.

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Challenge
Rhyming definition
I don’t feel much like writing lately, so I thought I would create a challenge to inspire you all to write instead. Write a definition, and make it rhyme. I have provided an example. Tag me to read your entry. (Let’s keep it fair: no mass tagging, please)
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wetpetals in Poetry & Free Verse
• 92 reads

Apathy:

Numbly going from a motion to a motion, like flat stones skimming a still ocean.

No emotion.

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Challenge
Write a sexy scene. Include the words: twinkle lights, snow, forget, wine.
For the first time in my life on Prose, I'm going to select the winner in order for me to see how the monarchy decision works as a challenge creator. This is for portal Romance & Erotica, so make it hot. NO POETRY. Warning: My standards are high for writing quality and content. Give me your best writing in exactly 111 words. (This is Romance & Erotica's 111th challenge.) Have fun!
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wetpetals in Romance & Erotica
• 132 reads

Awkward

I show up at his door.

I’m wearing something that

Makes me feel a little

Ridiculous

But...

It was snowing, ok.

I wore a puffy coat

high heels

And tight jeans.

I’m feeling it.

My diamonds

Twinkle

Making me look like

A rich bitch

It’s more than enough

To get his attention

I think

As I take another drink

Of the wine

In my sippy

Cup

Not a cup

No

A water bottle

They call it

I ring the doorbell again

The lights come on

Oh shit

I hope he wasn’t asleep

How awkward

It’s the holidays

I forgot

Oh fuck

Forget it

He’s married

And I shouldn’t be doing this.

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wetpetals in Micropoetry
• 63 reads

State of mind

You can never spread yourself too thin. You just diversify.

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Challenge
The key is to use one word in either a poem or your prose, and far be it from me to stop a short story from coming to the front of the line.
The word is: disguise. Play it any way you like, either in the title or somewhere in your write ... BUT, you can only use disguise once in your writing ... and PLEASE ... tag me in the comment area not on your written piece ... @Danceinsilence
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wetpetals in Poetry & Free Verse
• 109 reads

Poetry is magic.

I love how in poetry

I can share those secret parts of me

With words that reveal the heart of me

But yet disguised

Like a magic trick.

You saw them

But yet you didn’t see

A sleight of hand.

A unique kind of mystery.

I can also say many big things

And hide them among lesser ones

Giving attention to whichever pleases

Anyone.

And all the while

I don’t matter anymore.

And I like it there,

The peacefulness

Of disappearing.

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Challenge
Your dream. In poetry.
Tell us about a dream you had recently. Write it in poetry form.
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wetpetals in Poetry & Free Verse
• 91 reads

Tigers and lions, and where were you?

Last night I had a dream. In my dream, you were away from me. I was alone, at home. I looked out the window.

I saw a giant tiger in the backyard. I couldn’t believe my eyes. As I watched, I saw baby tigers approach. What a beautiful family, I thought to myself.

I looked away, to call you, to see. I looked back again and I saw a small lion. He grabbed the throat of the tiger with his jaws. He held on. The tiger struggled awhile, then gave up.

He was dead. And the baby tigers were gone.

And that was all.

And nobody else saw.

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Challenge
Write a non-rhyming poem that includes the words drumstick, dressing, gravy, grace, and pie BUT has nothing to do with the Thanksgiving Holiday.
$3 Prize References to Thanksgiving will be eliminated. Mass tagging of any kind results in disqualification.
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wetpetals
• 150 reads

Impatient

I was trying on a sexy dress in the women’s dressing room when he slid under the door.

“What are you doing?!,” I hissed, under my breath.

He proceeded to grace me with his drumstick, erect.

As if...

Thinking I might like some gravy?

“Are you crazy?”

“Damn!”

That man.

One track mind.

At least wait ’til we get home to have your pie!

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Challenge
Rebellion
Write about rebellion. All musings, stories, poems, fictions, non-fictions and metaphors are welcome.
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wetpetals
• 102 reads

Euphoria

Rebellion for a bipolar type 1

Is unpredictable, but inevitable.

When it comes, it takes you over.

It may be wicked.

It is rarely wise.

And it definitely involves a lot of lies.

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Challenge
Write a sensual poem. Theme: AUTUMN. Include the words: delight, daring, umber, frost.
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wetpetals in Poetry & Free Verse
• 112 reads

December

He delights in my devilish lies.

I’m wearing something daring.

Umber g-string, thigh highs.

The frost on the windowpane watches.

Fire dances, spitting embers.

It’s December.

And I’m with him again.

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Challenge
Write a metaphoric poem - non-rhyming - that does not mention the subject of the poem only refers to it in the framework of the metaphor...let us guess the real subject. Note metaphor is a word comparison of two unlike things, not a description of the thing. 16 line maximum
Mass tagging results in immediate disqualification.
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wetpetals
• 135 reads

Rose

The rose blooms quietly, shyly, on the vine.

There are so many lovely flowers in this lush, beautiful garden.

But this rose, somehow, she catches his eye more than the others.

Maybe it is the depth of the red that attracts.

Like fire, or passion, a message is in this red.

And the petal is so soft, it feels like velvet.

He cant resist to plunge his nose into the center, and inhale.

“Mmmmm”, so intoxicating.

He can’t stand to leave it there.

He touched it, he inhaled it, and he must have it.

He grabs the stem.

“Ouch!”, he cries.

“Dammit! Stupid bitch.”

He plucks the petals off, forcefully in one fist and tosses them to the ground.

Steps in them, and smears them, until the crushed petals resemble blood spatter.

“There you go, sweetie,” he says, and walks casually away.

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