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prompt 182 What Waits on the Other Side

November 7, 2013

Hello, and thank you for this opportunity to inspire and, hopefully, set your muse writing. This week I’d like to explore bridges with you.

There are bridges for cars, foot traffic, animals, the game of bridge, bridges that connect communities, connect countries, toll bridges, musical bridges, mending bridges, burning bridges, dental bridges, the bridge of your nose, and I think the list continues beyond the limits of good sense, so I’ll stop there.

(c) Misky – Old Wooden Bridge Crossing the Rhine River

This photo is of an ancient bridge dating from 1272. It tantalised my imagination as I walked from one end to the other. It spans the Rhine River between Holzbruecke Bad Saeckingen in Germany and Switzerland, and must have been quite an undertaking to build at the time. The timbers have that old deeply polished sheen of hundreds of centuries of use. It’s richly scented with time and wood and strife and pursuit of a better life. It’s survived religious and military wars, the ravages and neglect resulting from plagues, families migrating in search of a better life, and smugglers and contraband.

When you see a bridge, do you wonder about other people who crossed it, their stories, what prompted them to risk a different life at the opposite end of a long bridge, or do you see bridges as connecting people and purpose. Perhaps you focus on the obstacles in the middle: the river, its swift current, a dangerous crossing, still waters that run deep. Or maybe you’re the type who stands in the middle of a bridge, looking down to see what’s passing below your feet! Have you crossed a bridge that sparked your imagination: Tower Bridge or Golden Gate or the Brooklyn Bridge? How about bridges that fall, like the Tacoma Narrows bridge. I’m sure you’ve seen that video of “galloping gertie”. If not, here it is on YouTube

Let your muse be inspired by the anticipation of the unknown, what waits on the other side, the dangers, the risks taken under whatever circumstance sets people to cross this (or any bridge). Or perhaps you’d prefer to explore the meaning of connections, of overcoming obstacles, or building bridges (in a community or personal bridges).

Or if you fancy, set your character at the entrance of this bridge, and create an adventure. Where are they going; where have they been? Are they alone?

Have fun and I hope that you and your muse enjoy the journey.


 – Marilyn (Misky)

  1. November 7, 2013 4:24 am

    Great prompt, Misky. I am going to talk to my muse today and see if she’ll cooperate with me on writing to this. She’s been rather aloof lately, 🙂


    • November 7, 2013 5:15 am

      Pamela, do you have a bridge in your village?

      • November 7, 2013 3:16 pm

        Actually I live in fairly big city, Misky, but there is a bridge I walked across for the first time with my husband last Saturday evening. That might work.

        • November 7, 2013 3:18 pm

          Then I will remain hopeful. 🙂


  2. November 7, 2013 5:24 am

    Hi, Misky! I’m glad you decided to give us this great prompt today. I decided to post an older poem which was inspired by The Lyke-Wake Dirge. It makes a paralell between the journey towards another world and the idea of a marriage – basically an alternate version of Persephone’s descent into the Underworld:

  3. November 7, 2013 6:58 am

    Here’s a little one that I just wrote. And this actually happened while I was walking across that bridge.

  4. November 7, 2013 7:05 am

    I agree, great prompt. Will be back to post. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

    • November 7, 2013 7:06 am

      he-he. Clever, Benjamin.

    • November 7, 2013 7:08 am

      Look forward to it, Benjamin, and a warm welcome to you.

  5. November 7, 2013 8:41 am

    Here is mine – short and sweet


    She stared at the blank screen
    then began to write words
    which she moved from here to there,
    deleted, began again, sighed.
    She took her glasses from her face,
    massaged the bridge of her nose
    and thought. But, her stomach growled,
    the dog wanted out, and the rustling
    leaves called her name on a tepid breeze…
    and she went out.

  6. November 7, 2013 10:12 am

    Priceless Jaunt

    We write poems
    because we build bridges
    transcending haughty barriers of time space, culture, and reason.

    We read poems
    for a priceless jaunt
    across a bridge of verse
    or charming volley of words apace.

    We build bridges
    methodically into hearts
    making concrete connections to
    Impossible destinations imponderable.

    • November 7, 2013 11:06 am

      Wonderful! I particularly like the repeating element in your poem, which really brings the point home. Thank you, Benjamin.

    • November 11, 2013 8:24 pm

      The last stanza wraps up a beautiful poem, well, beautifully!

    • November 12, 2013 1:20 am

      Cleverly wrought!

  7. November 7, 2013 12:06 pm

    I’ll come back to this. Got something in my mind

    • November 7, 2013 2:17 pm

      I actually like what you wrote. It’s unruly and wild like the Rhine.

  8. November 7, 2013 12:31 pm

    This poem is based on one of my late husbands WW2 experiences,

  9. November 7, 2013 12:34 pm

    oop’s – it is on my blog

    • November 7, 2013 2:15 pm

      Lovely! I left a comment on your blog, Marian.

    • November 12, 2013 12:26 am

      What a lofty ideal painted, Marian. *cannot leave comment on blog*

  10. November 7, 2013 1:08 pm

    Thursday, November 7, 2013

    November 7, 2013 Writers Digest/ We Write Poems #182
    For today’s prompt, write a hardship poem. The hardship could be moving forward after a tragic loss, having to work through a difficult problem, or even just showing up to work. It can be serious, funny, or complicated.

    Image from the internet

    Sail Away
    When skies are blue
    We’ll board our boat
    A teacup made for two
    And sail away

    We have known
    Storms and rain
    Drought and such
    But now
    We’ll sail away

    You’ll wear your hat
    I’ll wear mine
    Pulled down low
    We’ll board the cup
    And sail away

    As the wheel turns
    We find the ocean dead
    The butterfly trembles
    Aboard our boat
    We’ve sailed away

    Note: I am thinking, we get through one difficult problem, only to find another. It probably isn’t about where we are, not geographical, wherever we go, there we are.

    ________Nov. 7, 2013

    Image from the internet

    We write Poems: Prompt bridges….

    There is a bridge
    That is very tall
    Far above the water
    It spans a crack
    In the earth
    Ripped long ago
    A rift

    If incase your ego
    Grows and your hat
    Fits no more
    You go to that bridge
    And you’ll feel small
    The earth is grand indeed

    Or if life gets too hard
    And you want it to be over
    Go to that bridge
    It is calling you
    And if you jump
    It will all be over
    There is no coming back

    Note: It is the Rio Grand Gorge Bridge in Taos, New Mexico. Many people go just to look, but many people go to end it all.

    • November 7, 2013 1:09 pm

      Sorry I didn’t mean to post both poems….didn’t know how to remove it?

      • November 7, 2013 2:07 pm

        Not to worry. We will let Irene pretty things up if needed. 🙂


        • November 7, 2013 4:55 pm

          Yep M, that’s what I do. Pretty things up. 🙂

    • November 7, 2013 2:11 pm

      That really sounds like an amazing bridge! They are funny ol’ things to evoke such extreme emotion in us. Wonderful poem (both of them)! Thank you for sharing your lovely poem.


    • November 8, 2013 12:40 am

      That is a great stanza about the growth of ego – and the rest gives a powerful image.

    • November 10, 2013 6:04 am

      Love the first one, Annell.


    • November 11, 2013 8:26 pm

      Both lovely poems, Annell.

    • November 12, 2013 12:31 am

      Whimsical touch in both, Annell.

  11. November 7, 2013 2:45 pm

    Started this before the kiddies arrived and just finished. Might be a series?

    • November 7, 2013 3:16 pm

      Loved it! Left a comment on your blog.

  12. November 7, 2013 5:33 pm

    Made me think of

    Mary’s bridge

  13. November 7, 2013 11:58 pm

    Welcome to Misky, the new prompter.

    I found this prompt via your link at dVerse, so dVerse was the bridge that linked us! Here’s my response:

    A whille ago I also wrote a short story for children called The Bridge, and if I can find it, I’ll put it in the Fiction page on my blog.

    • November 8, 2013 1:25 am

      I’m glad that you found us, Viv, and I’m on my way to read yours. 🙂

  14. November 8, 2013 6:33 am

    Aanteekwa and Babyface find that there is A Hope in Hell.


    • November 8, 2013 7:15 am

      Oh, excellent. I’m on my way to read what happens next!

  15. November 9, 2013 10:03 am

    Thank you, Misky, for the excellent prompt. Your photograph is beautiful. The prompt inspired me to write this poem:

    She said, “We should have a child,”
    and he thought, This will be the bridge we go over
    while planks fall away at our feet.
    The beams will splinter and crack as we, peering through fog,
    imagine figures on the other side.

    So when they came to that bridge, he took the first step
    like a fire walker testing coal,
    like a naked child at the river’s edge.
    His fear had been reduced to a jagged, black pebble
    he held in his hand.

    She said, “You have to trust,” even though the pylons were crumbling,
    even though he didn’t know what she meant
    when she said love or trust.
    He only knew her name, and his nameless fear,
    and that this bridge had called out to them since they were young.

    Still, they were not old.
    They had steady hands and strong hearts.
    They could look back on the past and with little effort, change.

    Maybe this was at the untidy center of her fear
    and buried in his impenetrable core,
    that no matter how much they talked and planned
    the bridge would eventually collapse
    and they would forever be on one side or the other.

    Still the question: Where would they be?
    Not a dot on a map. Somewhere south of True North,
    still reaching out with tentative hands,
    minus one decision to make.

    They would be travellers. They were travellers.
    Though a part of them would always be frozen in time.
    “We should have a baby,” she said, and he, in silence,
    stared out across that bridge.

    Copyright Brock Price 2013.

    The poem is posted on my blog here:
    Thanks very much for reading.

    • November 9, 2013 2:52 pm

      A wonderfully described tale of longing and uncertainty. Thank you so much for joining in and sharing your lovely piece of work, Brock.

    • November 10, 2013 5:51 am

      Beautiful, Brock.

    • November 12, 2013 1:03 am

      Excellent metaphor for parenthood I thought. It’s a bridge alright and the other side changes one forever. Keep staring.

  16. November 9, 2013 5:32 pm

    I actually did manage to write a poem to your delightful prompt, Misky. Thanks.


    • November 11, 2013 3:45 am

      Simply gorgeous piece of writing, Pamela. Thank you.

    • November 11, 2013 3:44 am

      I love this one, and I’m so pleased that your mused led you across that particular bridge. 🙂

  17. November 11, 2013 8:27 pm

    Thanks, Misk!

  18. November 13, 2013 9:18 am

    Step out into the void onto A span of faith.

    • November 13, 2013 9:23 am

      Donald! Welcome! I’m so pleased that you’ve joined us. I’m on way now to read your “Span of Faith”.

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