For today’s prompt, write a broken poem. The poem can be specifically about something breaking or just include something (or someone for that matter) that’s broken. Get as creative as you want about interpreting what’s broken: cars, hearts, toys, spirits, codes, etc. Heck, I guess–unless we’re writing prose poems–we’ll automatically be breaking lines.
Broken Poem
It is wrong to assume
nothing else can be broken.
But dust cannot break,
nor mold, nor ash.
The art broke
The dishes one at a time
The spoken words broke
and the trust underneath them.
The floors, the stairs, the sidewalks
broke. Tables. Toddler's tables.
Pool tables. Inside tables. Out.
The ease broke
The dreams
The evenings, the lights
out, broke
The stars falling, broken.
Bottles, of course, broke.
The night's peace, broke
The morning's peace, broken
The afternoons vanished into
into a darkness unbroken.
The pride broke
The will broke and broke
The will broke and it broke
The will broken
The money gone,
broke and broken
even the stretching beach
cut right to its edge
the waves breaking
without a spread to peace
That peace, broken.
It is wrong to assume
nothing else can be broken
even when nearly nothing
is left to break.
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