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 November is US.

35 comments on “Adult “W.O.M.” Poems

  1. Kids like Us

    Some think we’re quite lazy,
    Some might call us weak.
    We languish in classrooms
    too timid to speak.

    Testing is torture,
    we’re judged by this score.
    Our interests and talents
    should matter much more!

    The struggle is real, though –
    we’re trying our best!
    Please don’t overlook us,
    we’re not like the rest.

    We’re scratching and clawing,
    though not with a fuss.
    Keep helping us teachers
    And ALL kids like us.

    • Thank you, Bryn! And I really enjoyed your poem, as well! I’ve been an “us” for almost 35 years now, and can’t imagine my life any other way.


    Us ….. I like the sound of that
    Us …..
    For so long now it’s been me
    Just me.
    And I hated the sound of that.
    But then, out of nowhere
    Came you.

    We …. I like that too.
    I plus you equals we
    Us equals you plus me.
    Whichever way you look at it,
    That’s how it’s meant to be.

    I’ll just say it one more time
    Us ………

    • Bryn, when you posted this I thought it funny how you were thinking along the same terms. I had only just been so disturbed by the words twirling through my head the first week of November that I got out of bed and wrote them down. The scratch paper I wrote it on became lost in a mound until yesterday. As I reread all of the poems this month, I find that yours is quite different actually. I like the sound of it!

  3. Angels Smolder
    By Linda Boyden©2018

    Above us
    as they keep watch,
    angels smolder.

    The younger ones
    swish swords from scabbards,
    anxious for vengeance.
    The elders say nothing but
    peak their eyebrows at
    the impatience,
    the impertinence of youth,
    glare the youngsters back into smolder.
    When all is calm,
    they resume their tedious watch.

    we sing our psalms of madness
    churn up the planet
    slice our neighbors’ throats
    butcher their good names
    tear and thrust
    rip off fingernails
    burn at the stake.
    We have the gift of free will,
    a chaos that itches and burns,
    that yearns to create but
    hungers more to destroy.

    We rant through our sorry lives
    unaware of the choir of angels
    that smolders above us.

  4. Linda: Angels intrigue me, and your poem adds to that intrigue. I especially love the idea of angels smoldering. Wow! Great job.

  5. one day
    u found s
    and stopped to make a zesty gingerbread “us”
    to showcase when sugarplums appear
    and bells ring
    and children’s fantasies twinkle high:

    NOEL for u and s!

    all rights
    Jeanne Poland

  6. Mission
    There were a group of us
    Traveling across country
    Loaded in a large tour bus
    Not one of us liked to fly
    We were on a mission to discuss
    Bees, moths and butterflies
    Planting gardens of flowers, plus
    Colors, fragrance and sizes that qualify
    Providing nectar to creatures
    In our mission outcry.
    © Mary Nida Smith

  7. First busrides are so interesting…. hope you enjoy.


    Today, for a treat,
    We’re taking the bus

    Here’s a peek at the folks
    Riding with us…

    Musicians who lug
    Huge instrument cases

    Nanas with smiles
    On their wrinkly faces

    Yogis who hum
    As they practice their breathing

    A tot who keeps fussing
    (Maybe she’s teething)

    Teens holding hands
    As they whisper and giggle

    A tall guy whose ankle
    That constantly wiggles

    Spikey haired folks
    Sporting every bright hue

    A man with a ring on each finger
    Some two

    An actor practicing
    Lines for a play


    I wish I could ride on this bus
    Every day.


  8. We and Us
    are two not three
    though we had three
    no longer wee
    they’ve gone,
    are free
    to be
    their own
    us or we.
    Now it is
    Us not them
    you see?

    So we are
    back to two
    just us.
    What’s me
    to you &
    you to me?
    now it’s
    us and we!

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