I put a lot of thought into most of the topics our poetry has explored these last two weeks. Today’s prompt was inspired by, um… the date. After I published the initial announcement, I was annoyed with myself. Your laziness has reached new levels of lameness, I said to me. But now that I’m looking at this again, I kind of like it. I suspect we’ll bring some wonderful bits of yum, from our trip to memory’s home.

Where were you when you were fifteen? What did you love and/or hate about the place? For Day 15 of NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Write a poem about the town or city where you spent the fifteenth year of your life. If a poem about said place doesn’t move your muse, try something memorable that happened when you were that age. Introduce us to fifteen-year-old you.


* Leave a link to your poem, as a comment. Include the title of your entry, and the direct link to your post. Example: “NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015”: Visit other Wicked Darlings and comment on their yum. They might visit you (it’s polite).

* If you use this prompt, please link it to your post. And if you are feeling extra delicious, link your poem to the main entry. Show others where to go. Spread the word. Linking back to the source will keep teenagers from driving adults nuts.

Cultivate Life, by Lewis Lavoie“Cultivate Life”, by Lewis Lavoie

Note: I found the above piece by chance, and fell in love with it: “Mural Mosaic is a process invented by artist Lewis Lavoie that takes individual paintings and places them in a specific order to create a large painting… Lavoie and his partners Phil Alain and Paul Lavoie began the Mural Mosaic journey to bring communities together using their murals as examples of ‘Unity through Diversity’.”

18 thoughts on “Fifteen”

    • It was hard for me. My memories are rather clear and that was my undoing… I spent hours just thinking and talking to my Piano Man about it. I should have not looked at pictures from my hometown… the changes broke my heart.

    • For second there, I thought you were advertizing Neil Gaiman’s latest short story collection. Which is yummy, by the way. It’s a bit sad to say, but I doubt many of us here will be too shocked by the horrors of the world… Writers who rip their art from the soul tend to know way too much about the terrible things life can breed.

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