Poetry Mini-Workshop: 10 Prompts to Move Past Almost-Love
Think of this as a quick, meaningful writing session you can actually finish today. A compact workshop you can run in 15 to 45 minutes. Each prompt gives you an image, a metaphor, and a form/constraint so the poem has somewhere to go—and a way to arrive.
How to Use this Mini-Workshop
Pick one prompt. Set a 12–20 minute timer.
Write without backspacing.
Read aloud once; make up to three small edits.
If you have more time, try a second prompt in a contrasting form.
1) The coffee that went cold
Image: A mug cooling beside a phone that never lit up.
Metaphor: Heat leaving liquid = attention leaving a room.
Form/Constraint: Couplets (two-line stanzas). Each couplet must include one sound (clink, hiss, hum, buzz).
2) Stairwell echoes
Image: Footsteps going down two flights you’re not taking.
Metaphor: Echo = what stays after someone has left.
Form/Constraint: Anaphora—begin the first 5 lines with “After you,” then break the pattern.
3) The text you never sent
Image: Draft bubble/unsent message.
Metaphor: A bottled letter that never touches water.
Form/Constraint: Prose poem (no line breaks). One paragraph, 120–160 words only.
4) Keys on the hook
Image: A spare key that no longer opens anything.
Metaphor: Access without belonging.
Form/Constraint: Quatrains (4-line stanzas) with ABAB slant rhyme.
5) Hairline crack in a glass
Image: A thin fracture that keeps catching the light.
Metaphor: Micro-fissures of trust.
Form/Constraint: Golden Shovel—end each line with the words of this sentence (in order):
“I kept holding what was already broken.”
(One word = one line ending.)
6) Commuter window (haiku/tanka constraint)
Image: Your reflection riding beside you at dusk.
Metaphor: A life you almost lived, passing in the glass.
Form/Constraint: Write one haiku (5–7–5) and one tanka (5–7–5–7–7) on the same moment. Let the tanka answer the haiku.
7) Drawer of ticket stubs
Image: Paper relics from almost-dates.
Metaphor: Proof of presence without promise.
Form/Constraint: List poem of 10 items. Every third item must contain a color.
8) The room after a party
Image: Streamers stuck to the ceiling at 2 a.m.
Metaphor: Celebration outlasting the celebrants.
Form/Constraint: Terza rima (ABA BCB CDC …). Keep it short: 9–12 lines.
9) Street where you don’t turn left anymore
Image: A corner you now pass without looking.
Metaphor: Boundaries as cartography.
Form/Constraint: Sestet (6 lines) where each line must include a place word (corner, map, mile, waypoint, border, detour).
10) Thread on the fingertip
Image: A red thread looped once around a finger.
Metaphor: Attachment you learned to loosen.
Form/Constraint: Ghazal-lite—write 5 couplets; end each couplet with the same refrain (choose your own, e.g., “I let it go”). In the last couplet, name yourself once.
Closing Ritual: “Cut the Thread” (2 Steps, 5 Minutes)
Underline one line in your draft that still pleads or waits.
Rewrite it into a line of agency—no questions, no bargaining.
Optional physical ritual: write both lines on paper, cut the first with scissors, tape the rewritten line in its place. Read the poem aloud once more.
Why These Forms Help You Move On
Images anchor feeling in the body (steam, echo, glass).
Metaphors reframe pain into a pattern (something you can handle).
Constraints (syllables, rhyme, refrains) give your poem a rail to hold while crossing the shaky bridge.
The Prelude Girl by Marjorie Gavan
If these prompts resonate, you’ll likely connect with The Prelude Girl, a collection about the ache and aftermath of almost-love—how clarity often comes before comfort. It’s now available in Kindle eBook, paperback, and hardcover from HRBN Publishing.
If you draft something you’d like us to see, tag #ThePreludeGirl and #HRBNPublishing. Your poem doesn’t need to be finished. It just needs to be true.