Photo of typewriters

National Poetry Month Writing Challenge

We’re celebrating National Poetry Month here at the American Writers Museum with a brand new poetry writing challenge! Every week in April, we’re featuring a new poetry prompt at our Story of the Day exhibit. Guests are invited to use one of our typewriters to try their hand at the art of poetry. This past week, our poets were asked to imagine that a ghost had discovered a typewriter. What would they say? Check out some of our favorite responses below.


Ghost Writer by Megan Klohr
Cold rainy day
My non-existent fingers tingle
Words tickle out from my soul
Yes, my soul is there

You are surprised
My body is clear, my mind is not
I am still full of life
My words my only release

I am a ghost.
But I am also a writer.


Untitled by Anonymous
when the horns blaring
screed gravel slam back
she’s rain-drench yellow
flagged men with chick’s
behind yelling
pass
am i alive or now dead
having come so close
deserved grace
implodes


Untitled by Anonymous
the ballroom floor is filled with ghosts
those who have not found a home

heaven will not take them
penance does no good
supposedly hell is the place to be
if only i was able to enter
alas i have no soul to sector

my hand is led to the dance floor
my body follows it
the stars and moon are singing
even i have to admit
death looks beautiful tonight


Untitled by Anonymous
Will you
Remember us the way that
The couple behind us.
That is, to say
The way we remember the couple
In front of us
Front-lit
Blue from the stage


To participate in our National Poetry Month challenge, stop by the AWM anytime in April. We are open Thursday through Friday, from 10:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. If you can’t make it to the museum, share your poem on social media and tag us or drop it in the comments below.

This week’s prompt is titled “ROYGBIV”. What could be more vivid than writing a poem about color? Write a poem about your favorite color.

One thought on “National Poetry Month Writing Challenge

  1. Don Seeley says:

    ROYGBIV

    Regret doesn’t staunch the flow of a punched nose
    Or delay the glowing sunset planned for two but watched alone.
    You told me to “Piss off!”
    Grass pales next to your injured anger.
    Broken promises and an ocean now lie between us.
    Infidelity leaves a stain that outlasts blueberry.
    Violins, violence, a bruise and au revoir.

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