Write.as Cues

Weekly encouragements to help you express yourself.

By Coralie Rozenblum

I do have a Now page (in french) on my blog so I'll translate it here.

What I do, read, learn right now :

A response to the Now prompt

By John Dorroh

Serval cats tiptoe near nuclear power plants in Johannesburg

A response to the Haiku prompt

By Dark Frost

(Just one of those many Random thought without context I do have sometimes during night)

Sometimes I find myself waking up in midnight crying helpless and holding my pillow tears won't stop falling from my eyes. There's a pain in me and it hurts and I don't know why. Feels like this pain is a part of me or maybe am a part of the pain. A far stretched loneliness clouding my vision and I get covered in this darkness of it. This weird feeling of missing something or someone stays there. This longing and yearning never seems to end. I am a composed person and am calm but right now right here in this four walls I am... Idk what am I? I feel like loosing myself or maybe I have lost myself already and Honestly there's no way to confirm either of it. Why do I feel this way and when exactly it all started is a mystery to me. I am trying to make sense out of it. As soon as the sunlight kisses the earth on its forehead. The world seems to wake up. Everyone going back to their slumber.

A response to the Now prompt


By Andreas

I’m searching for the optimal blog service and maybe I have found it in Write.as. But I’m not sure yet. I have a Posthaven blog, a Micro.blog and a blog hosted by Write.as. I like them all, but it’s too much to handle. Still I want to keep them all. My native language is swedish. On my Posthaven blog I only write in swedish. On Micro.blog I’ve been doing both swedish and english and the same for my Write.as blog NDRS.WORK. I write about my life, nothing special. Nothing great for other to read but I like it. And it helps me focus on today. If there are any other multiple blog service users out there I have a question for tou? How are you handling things?

In response to the Now prompt


By Chap Ar Rod Ani

antiguos dogmas imágenes caducas reverdeceran

A response to the Haiku prompt

By Luna Rose

Wind whips around me I feel the cold in my bones Winter is here now.

A response to the Haiku promt

By Emery Rose

there is no love felt in the light of a million diodes and the laughter carried over a thousand miles of fiber still cannot fill the room or be felt in my chest a constant stream of unicode tells me we are here together but my heart tells me

connection lost service unavailable

A response to the National Poetry Month prompt


By Billy Jackson

Lugnut and Old Boy bark at a four point buck eating fermented apples under a gnarled old tree

They bark at joggers fit and annoyed at the intrusion into their ritual

Their shift starts before mine Before I leave And ends after mine Before I sleep

They howl at the sirens of police and firemen heralds of needed help

And they greet the delivery people so that they know they may not stay long

They ward off the wild things the raccoons and opossum and yell at the uncaring ravens to begone

And the Coyote's call the yammering yelps sing a song of battle in Lugnut's heart so he paces back and forth and whines – “Let me at em!”

Then in the evening they come inside, fences secure treats and headrubs and wrasslin

Until we all sleep Old Boy on the couch, sprawled out and Lugnut next to our bed, childishly close and wary as Cerberus

A response to the National Poetry Month prompt


By James Goner

if addiction a pain, then depression another, said either decease or live and suffer. yet frightened of death like none other. now fix it the person who created the mess. was it ego or was it ignorance?

saw a way out, still hardships surround, yet it's the only path that the mind has found. tried and failed not once not twice, it was indeed, hundreds of times.

whenever gave up and asked, 'what is the point?', the mind said 'future is dark, but it could be bright.'

A response to the National Poetry Month prompt


By Case Duckworth

I want to hear your voices, to gaze at your elbows. There are only so many ways to do anything. I want, I want, I want, I don't know how not to. It comes in waves, rolling like a car over a speed bump. There is no body there except the body, except your bodies, folded over each other like paper. Like dollar bills wadded in my pocket. Like brows furrowed. Like trees' roots always searching for nitrogen, or each other.

A response to the National Poetry Month prompt


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