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Thursday Prompt #20 Exceptions To The Rule

September 16, 2010

Exceptions To The Rule

We have all heard of the old adage: Rules are made to be broken. Was there a time in your experience when you broke the rules, a particular rule? Why did you do that and what was the outcome? Are there certain indiviudals for whom you always make exceptions? Are there areas in your life where there are never allowances for exceptions? Which rules would you like to break, and which exceptions would you wish to see carved in stone? You might want to take some time to do a free write on any, or all of these questions, or simply on the general concept of the prompt. See what poem you can “cook” from these ingredients! We’ll see you Wednesday to find out the results.

Come back next Wednesday when you see the post, “It’s Post Your Poems Day!” and leave a link to the poem on your blog. If you don’t have a blog, then please, post your poem in the comment itself.   ***   You are invited to respond to the prompt given here, but if you have something else you’re just itching to share, please feel welcome in doing that. Our first desire here is to encourage you to write and learn and share.   ***   When leaving comments to other’s poems, please be appreciative and encouraging. We are not a poem “critique” site (unless someone specifically asks for that). Be kind with each other (and yourself!).   ***   Please consider including a link with your blog poem back to the prompt here at We Write Poems so that others may see and join our community.

  1. September 16, 2010 11:34 pm

    You may ban me after this!

  2. September 18, 2010 1:44 am

    Rant Alert: I’ve just posted on the Miserable Old Bat’s blog:

  3. September 23, 2010 11:16 am

    The subject of this poem is exceptional.

  4. Greg Cameron permalink
    October 19, 2010 10:56 am

    I’m posting this perhaps ephemeral poem here. Enjoy or not….

    And Now

    what happens

    when you have

    nothing left to

    give them

    absolutely nothing?

    the void yawns

    everyone looks

    but says nothing

    Time stands by

    at its leisure

    you stand there

    pockets emptied

    hands parted

    in a shrug

    waiting for

    the next moment

    which never


    (Greg Cameron, Poem, Oct., 2010, Surrey, B.C., Canada)


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