Write a poem using someone else’s biggest fear as the title



Unable to look beyond the fear

That I could never let someone else in —



As if staring into another’s eyes can be


Unable to hold a gaze.


And I ask myself why —

Am I afraid of letting someone else see me?


Am I afraid of allowing myself to

Open up to another?

To Trust someone?



How can I if I can’t take the time

To hold another’s gaze?

We all sometimes feel —



It’s enough to allow the feeling to stop

The need to feel —





Guest Star

If you could guest star on any TV show, what would it be and why?

Can it be a show that is no longer running? Because I would definitely pick Once Upon A Time. Not only is it my favorite television show, but the type of a role I’d have to play would be so much more unique than a role in a comedy or something. Who wouldn’t want to be a fairy tale character? The story lines are so unique and entertaining to watch. I can’t imagine how much fun it was to play those roles. I also think the cast would be an interesting group of people to work with. They’re so talented and they seem so kind. It would definitely be a lot of fun.

But if I had to pick a show that is currently running, I’d probably say Fuller House. I grew up loving Full House so much. I know every episode backward and forward. I grew up watching characters like DJ and Stephanie develop into the characters they are on Fuller House, so I think it’d be really cool to step into their universe and interact with those characters. It’d be so fun to be on the set of the house I always wished I could live in. It’d be amazing to meet the cast and see what really happens behind the scenes of the show. My eight-year-old self would have her dreams come true for sure.


Write a poem about a childhood memory



You could not get in without a password.

Words muttered that parents never heard.


A guard was always at the door.

Unable to open for many to explore.


It took skill to reach the entrance,

Where you were welcomed or sentenced.


For only the strongest were allowed,

To sit above the rest and stare at the clouds.


The floor decorated in leaves and small twigs.

A dungeon below for the prisoners to dig.


Plastic tables and chairs were easy to place.

The finest mac and cheese served on a paper plate.


The soldier’s greatest weapons were water balloons.

Tree branches used to escape enemy harpoons.


Six feet from the ground, sat treacherous and high,

A safe place from everything, a fortress in the sky.


At the end of the day, when the enemy was gone,

It was time to leave the fortress and return to home.


A good night sleep needed after a long fight.

The fortress would be waiting for another day’s light.


Did you ever meet a famous person?

I’ve actually met several, but I’ll tell you about one of the most meaningful experiences for me. I’ve met Chris Colfer on multiple occasions, but there is one time in particular that stands out to me.

I attended every book signing on his The Land Of Stories tours. Although I often felt like one of the oldest people there, I didn’t mind because he had been a huge influence to me. I also really enjoyed his books, despite the fact that they’re written for kids. I’ve always loved fairy tales and I’ve enjoyed stories that involve rewriting them to make it something new. (Like Once Upon A Time)

Anyway, I was too starstruck to make sense of my words the first time I met him. So the second time I did, I felt more composed. As a result, I was able to ask him about his writing process. As a writer, I kept trying to find ways to attempt writing books that never worked for me. So when I had the chance to talk to one of my favorite people, who happened to be an author, I figured I would ask him. He gave me really good advice: No matter how much you tell yourself it’s not good enough, just keep writing. Don’t stop. Don’t go back and edit anything until you’re done. Because once you do, you won’t finish.

And I found that advice really helpful. Ever since I had that conversation with Chris, I found myself doing what he said. By doing so, I was able to finish more pieces. I was able to realize that I would always be my own worst critic, which he also told me.  I couldn’t let that stop me from writing. I couldn’t let that stop me from finishing anything.

It’s one thing to hear that advice from every day people, but getting real advice like that from someone I admire put things into perspective to me. I’ll always hold that advice in my heart, and I’ll always be thankful to Chris for helping me overcome one of my biggest struggles as a writer.

One Line

Open a book and use a line from that book to start a story.


As she placed her shoes in a bin and stepped into the scanner, she felt as though the security guard was going to see right through her and find out her secret.  “You’re all set,” the man said, as she stepped out of the machine.

Trying to stop her hands from trembling, she took her shoes and suitcase off the counter and waited for her companion to finish. Watching him step through the scanner, she took several deep breaths, telling herself that nothing bad was going to happen. She avoided his gaze when he joined her at the end of the hallway to the gates. Neither of them spoke, as they travelled down the long hall.

The boarding process had already begun when they reached the gate to Phoenix. He pulled her aside and set his bag on the ground. Before he could even speak, she blurted out, “You shouldn’t have done it – you shouldn’t have doubted me – we’re leaving a trail of mistakes,” she said. “They’re going to find us.”

‘No one is going to find us,” he told her, taking her hands in his. “It’s better that we leave before the police find out what we did.” His final words of comfort did nothing to calm her nerves. She was in full panic mode, and he seemed so calm as he picked up his duffel bag off the ground. “Call me when you land in Seattle.”

An announcement for the final boarding call to Phoenix meant their time was up. Tears formed in her eyes, as he took a step toward the gate. She grabbed his arm and said, “This isn’t a good idea. We’re making a huge mistake.”

“We’ve already made a huge mistake,” he said, pulling his arm out of her grasp. “Stay calm. The more you bring attention to yourself, the more guilty you’re going to look.” All of the passengers had boarded the aircraft by the time he reached the gate. He turned to face her and gave one final wave, before disappearing down the jet bridge. 

Dragging her suitcase by the handle, she walked several gates down and sat in a seat near the back wall. She still had an hour before her flight took off. Few passengers walked by, as she sat in the corner, arms protectively crossed over her chest. 

Isolated from the rest of the world, she couldn’t stop the negative thoughts from entering her mind. This was the end of her life in her hometown, and the end of her friendship with him. One moment in her life had changed everything. She was living on borrowed time.

She wanted to turn back time, return to that moment, and do things differently. She wanted to leave the airport and drive until she couldn’t anymore. She wanted to hop on the plane to Phoenix and go with him. She wanted to do anything that would change her fate.

But there was nothing she could do. It was already done. Calls were already coming across police radios, and any one of those calls could change her future. He was taxiing to the runway on his way to Phoenix. She sat, hopelessly, at the gate to Seattle, counting the seconds on her watch.

At eight o’clock in the evening, the Baltimore airport was nearly deserted.


This prompt comes from someone I know. Write a poem that uses repetition.


Take the time to learn.

There is always something new.


Take the time to travel. This is your world. 

Go see its beauty.


Take the time to speak to your loved ones. 

Don’t wait to hear from them.

They’re waiting for you.


Take the time to set your phone down. 


Take the time to get more sleep.

Take the time to drink enough water.

Take the time to exercise. 

This is your body. 

Care for it the way it cares for you.


Take the time to eat chocolate cake. 

You deserve to be spoiled sometimes.


Take the time to fall in love. Don’t rush it.

Make sure he’s the one.


Take the time to braid your hair

even if you’re thirty.


Take the time to reflect in the mirror. Compliment yourself 

even when it’s hard to do.


Take the time to mourn your losses, but don’t forget

there is good in the world.


Take the time to do what makes you happy. 

Go shopping. Sing in the shower.

Write a poem. 


Take the time to be alone.


Take the time to smile at strangers. 

They need it more than you know. 


Take the time to walk your dog. 


Take the time to care for your mental health.

If you just focus on the outside,

You’ll only look complete.

Mirror, Mirror

This prompt comes from thinkwritten.com What if your mirror started talking to you? What might the mirror say?

“Don’t be afraid. Come closer. Take a good long look. Compliment yourself. I shouldn’t have to do if for you.”

On some level, I think we’re all a little afraid of the mirror. Really, I think we’re afraid of what we’ll see in the mirror. I try to avoid it as much as I can. I spend so much time telling myself that I don’t care what other people think. It’s true, for the most part. I don’t wear makeup. I rarely wear dresses. I wear my hair down 95% of the time. I dress for comfort, and I tell myself that it’s enough. Most of the time, it is. Of course, that doesn’t stop me from running my fingers through my hair when someone starts talking to me.

But even though I can go out in public dressed in a sweatshirt, tennis shoes and a messy bun, I hate looking in the mirror and discovering that it’s all I’m going to see. I don’t care what others think, but on some level, I care about what I think. If my mirror could talk to me, it would try to boost my self-esteem, telling me that I shouldn’t worry. Yet, somehow, I think that reassurance would only make me avoid the mirror more. I don’t take compliments well. I don’t even like the idea of a fictional compliment, such as my mirror doing so. So I avoid it when I can. But when I do look in the mirror, it’s brief. I always manage a sigh, knowing it’s as good as it’s going to get, even when I know I could try harder. I simply don’t want to try harder, because I’m not here to impress anyone.

Some days I wish I wasn’t even trying to impress myself.

Never Forget

Today’s prompt is in memory of the September 11th attacks on the World Trade Center.

I was only in the fourth grade. We were sitting in our classroom, when one of the staff members entered the room and told my teacher to turn on the television, because the North Tower of the World Trade Center had been hit. We watched in horror as the news reported the awful attack and witnessed the South Tower getting struck. I remember the feeling of dread, the feeling of sadness for all the people that had just died. But I was only in the fourth grade, and I couldn’t understand why it happened. I couldn’t even understand the depth of sadness and fear our country felt.

Since then, I have visited the site of the World Trade Center multiple times. I went in 2009, when the place was under construction and the aftermath was still very real. It was the first time I truly felt the weight of what happened, seeing it before my eyes.

I went back to visit the memorial, while the One World Trade Center was being built. It was overwhelming to be there, but the sight of the new tower looked promising. This summer, I had the experience of visiting the memorial again and I finally understood the magnitude of what happened. At the base of the South Tower, that I had once watched crumble, I read the names of the victims and felt this deep sense of loss. I finally understood. The images of the television screen in my fourth grade classroom came to mind and I could almost see the chaos on the streets before me. Chaos that once happened where I stood. I was overwhelmed, and I finally understood that depth of emotion. It took me seventeen years, but I finally felt what the sheltered walls of a little girl’s mind kept from me.

From there, I went up to the top of the One World Trade Center. With the island of Manhattan below me, I felt like I had accomplished something, that we had accomplished something. I had seen the site at its worst, with nothing but destruction, and I had seen the site from 102 stories in the air, rising above that memory of destruction. We have come so far. We have rebuilt, and that feeling of unity and understanding can be felt at the memorial.

This tragic event still sits with us to this day, and I am grateful for the journey I have been on, that has led me to fully mourn as a little girl. Today is a day to reflect, to remember those we lost, to pray for their families, to honor the heroes that picked up our broken pieces, and to remember that we are united.

Never Forget.


This was a prompt I have received by someone I know. Write a poem about an emotion without stating the emotion.


Air stops lingering 

In the lungs

Forcing its way





Barely touching the sides

As if staying 

Will trap it


Heart beats faster 

Against a cell of bones

Asking to be heard with 

Every beat of protest




Rhythm increasing


Fingers tremble 

Out of control

Fighting to grasp



The world spinning

The mind fuzzy

As if everything was 



Stomach turning

Chest tightening

Words lost

On a tied tongue


Noise fading

Darkness consuming


A system faltering