Tweetspeak Poetry

Poetry Prompt: An Oath, A Vow, A Promise

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making-a-promise-on-the-blue-wood-bridge
We make promises. It’s how we assure others of our trustworthiness, and keeping promises helps cement our character. Maybe the promises guide us, too, as we put our intentions on the table in a clear way.

Promises almost seem a distinct part of our language. Something separate from other types of speech. Stating a promise has a different effect than stating what we think. By saying something as simple as “I will, ” we make a commitment to it and set forth a course of action; whereas simply stating what we think feels more subject to change.

Each and every promise we make has the potential to grow and deepen relationships, or undermine and destroy them. And while we intend to keep our promises when we make them, life tends to have its say in the matter as well. A promise, in the end, is more complex than meets the eye.

Try It: An Oath, A Vow, A Promise

What is the most important promise you’ve made? Who did you make the promise to? What did it mean to you to make such an important promise? Consider the emotions and atmosphere, and write a poem that reflects the moment.

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 Featured Poem

Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s poetry prompt. Here is a poem from Andrew we enjoyed:

The floor was thick with autumn’s tears
That covered all the ground
But she was there, and I was young
So I went all unheeding of the sound;
All I remember is a vase, pink as summer
Glowing in the windowsill, and a smile
That shone though age had creased
All that surrounded it.
She was my mother’s mother, and I
Loved her so very much.
We worked together in the yard
To sweep away each bitter shard
Autumn had left to taunt us with.
We talked of many things, I’m sure
That older people must endure
When talking to a child,
But though the day grew dimmer
Her patience did not, and at the last
We’d filled the barrow.
Glowing with happiness, I left her place
And pink, pink vase
A smile across my face.
Because I’d helped her, and she had so very,
Very obviously loved me.

—by Andrew H.

Photo by glasseyes view. Creative Commons via Flickr.

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How to Write a Poem 283 high How to Write a Poem uses images like the buzz, the switch, the wave—from the Billy Collins poem “Introduction to Poetry”—to guide writers into new ways of writing poems. Excellent teaching tool. Anthology and prompts included.

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Heather Eure
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Comments

  2. Donna Falcone says

    Five Words

    Five words formed
    where light lived.

    Five words,
    like a threadsnake,
    slithering upward through
    stacked vertebrae,
    slicing a new path
    through tangled, raw nerves.

    Five words clearing a
    constricted throat,
    sliding over tongue and teeth,
    bursting into the dark-as-pitch-day.

    I will never hit you.

    Reply

  3. Maureen says

    I did something a little different: made a found poem from LW’s first post last week about ‘The Magician’s Elephant’ and worked in meanings for oath, vow, and promise.

    At the Opera

    after “The Magician’s Elephant”

    Act 1

    Grim, the magician swears
    the light is dying,

    missing from everywhere
    warm and familiar,

    missing, like the blanket
    on the small bed

    in the cavernous room
    where a small child harbored

    her simple dream
    to find an elephant with no name.

    Act 2

    On a street improbably narrow
    a song calls from the opera

    house, its improbable story
    (unsurprisingly) about a beggar

    and the dream of a child
    and the working of an elephant

    who summoned them to learn
    what it is to be known, with a name.

    A mother somewhere, leaning against
    that dark building, is weeping.

    Act 3

    Understand: a name spoken
    often, in laughter, in play, in love,

    over and over again, is
    everything to the broken-

    hearted and cold and lost,
    the way a star is beautiful

    to the magician who finds
    himself praying in prison,

    who makes a vow to set things
    right in another place entirely.

    Act 4

    In a world strange to opera,
    there are so many things,

    confusing things, things too
    chaotic to bear, that influence

    who and what we become.
    But we promise to wonder.

    Act 5

    A story about love
    is a story about connection—

    of a brother’s oath to find a sister,
    of a magician kept alive

    by the star he gazed upon,
    of a child in the dark, awake

    to a dream and the words
    of an elephant with no name.

    Reply

  4. Sandra Heska King says

    Crumbs

    Just two weeks in he spoke the words,
    but I ducked them and cast more bread upon the water.
    The crumbs were quickly snatched.

    Just two weeks later he dared again,
    but this time with a question, and I crumbled.
    “I do,” I said. “I will.”

    Then five months later, cake crumbs and confetti,
    a snow-white dress on a winter day.
    “I will,” I said. “I do.”

    Forty-five years later and a million crumbs of time,
    he still speaks the words,
    and I say, “Me, too. I do. I will.”

    Reply

  5. Monica Sharman says

    At the feast, all the seats
    at the front table
    were already filled,
    so I said I wouldn’t
    pry myself
    between
    guests of honor.
    But I could hear
    their laughter
    like bells together,
    together up there—
    and the tintinnabulation was more
    than I could bear.

    Reply

  6. Andrew H says

    Thanks for featuring my poem, and thanks to Donna and Sandra for their kind comments!

    The Pledge

    When life is grey with death,
    Or cause for weeping found
    Within some thing’s decay,
    I will recall these lines;
    Recall until my dying day.

    There is yet joy within the world,
    Yet other scenes where beauty flashes
    Outwards from your inner dreams.
    Heed not pain’s scourging lashes
    For whilst they burn, you know;
    You live to plough new fields, and sow.

    Or when a grimness seems to dwell
    Upon your features and your mind,
    To harry you with loathsome knell
    Or keep you from the hand that’s kind –
    Recall, oh ye of little faith, there lies
    Some fairer path barred him that dies.

    Yes, yes, fantasy weaves ten thousand
    All the same in garb and bearing – beasts
    That bay to let you know you’re hounded;
    You but shudder at their all-imagined feasts.
    Take action and the sword, bare flame
    And soon you’ll have those monsters tame.

    So heed these words, that you may see
    Folly breeds folly, and despair despair
    You are not one, but many who may be
    Brighter and fuller under some more tender care –
    And so, remember this your pledge and rhyme,
    To ne’er give in, if you may but recall one line.

    Reply

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