Adult “W.O.M.” Poems

Each month this blog will feature a word of the month to stimulate a poem. Anyone who wishes to share a poem is invited to participate. The point is to enjoy the challenge of writing a poem inspired by a single word. It doesn’t matter if this is your first poem or five hundredth. It’s all done for the fun and exercise of writing.

Cutoff for posting the current Word of the Month poem is the last day of the month.

On the first day of each month, a new word will be posted to challenge your imagination for that month.

Please post your poems on this page, so everyone can find the poems easily. 

Thank you and have fun!


PS: The word for May is RAIN.

22 comments on “Adult “W.O.M.” Poems

  1. I’ve started commuting by train to a job in the city. Planning to write poems while riding the rails. Here’s a start:


    The farmer’s crops could use the rain.
    For me today, it’s just a pain
    When riding into town by train.

    Drops on the pane obscure my view.
    I’m burdened with an umbrella too.
    I’d much prefer some sunshine, you?

  2. I am not in control
    of the rain
    the insane

    but gain
    control of self
    by belief

    I am not alone
    the flyleaf
    tells me so

    the loose leaf
    holds my notes

    the cloverleaf
    brings relief
    from disbelief

    an interleaf
    of magic’s

    grown by rain
    God’s reign.


  3. I Am
    By Linda Boyden ©2017

    I am a canvass
    a rain-kissed magnolia
    by brushstroke
    white tinged with pink
    nestled within a sea of green.

    I am a tempest
    a relentless gale
    painted wave swell
    by wave swell,
    edged with passion
    a sea of dark fury.

  4. Floating Along
    ©By Mary Nida Smith

    Drip drop plop
    One two drops
    The old man is snoring
    While the river is roaring
    Rain rains go away
    The old man is afloat
    River is rising day by day
    The old man has no boat
    Wake up old man
    Here comes a roll boat
    Rain rains go away
    Come back another day.

  5. OUR OAK

    I shall always think of it as our oak;
    Yours and mine.
    Majestic in that green haven from urban cacophony,
    It sheltered us in those precious moments:
    Discreetly deaf to our small talk,
    Obligingly blind to the fool I was making of myself.
    Did I babble?
    Memory has erased my every word.
    Yet yours are indelible;
    Every word, every inflection, every lilt
    Oh, that lilt, invading my sleepless nights.
    Did you feel it…the chemistry?
    Have you any idea what happens to your eyes when you laugh?
    Every cliché by every poet throughout the ages
    Bubbles up from a sea of startling, sparkling blue
    You laughed
    And a thousand Sunday steeples burst into song.
    You laughed
    And I knew I would love you to the grave.

    And then the rain stopped and I lost you forever.
    I stood, rooted to the spot as you walked away.
    The sun struggled through a threadbare patch in the cloud
    To light up your hair for a last, fleeting second
    And you were gone.
    How could I let you go with so much unsaid
    So many questions?
    The rain stopped….and I hadn’t even asked your name.
    © Bryn Strudwick

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