Stine Writing and Miniatures

W3 Prompt #162: Wea’ve Written Weekly

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W3 Prompt #162: Wea’ve Written Weekly
https://skepticskaddish.com/2025/06/04/w3-prompt-162-weave-written-weekly/

Bob’s prompt: “Echoes in Ordinary Spaces”

Write a poem inspired by “Mama’s Voice in the Kitchen.” Be sure to include both of the following elements:

a. Required Poetic Device: Repetition/Anaphora

Your poem must include deliberate repetition of a word, phrase, or sentence structure at least three times throughout the piece. This could be:

  • The same word beginning multiple lines or stanzas
  • A repeated phrase that acts as a refrain
  • Parallel sentence structures that create rhythm and emphasis

Example from the inspiration piece: “keep cookin’”, “keep settin’”, “keep talkin’”

b. Required Word: “Still”

Your poem must incorporate the word “still” at least twice. This word can function as:

  • An adverb indicating continuation (“I still remember…”)
  • An adjective describing quietness (“the still morning”)
  • A verb meaning to calm or quiet (“to still the waters”)

This word connects to the poem’s themes of persistence, memory, and the tension between movement and stillness in grief.

Additional Notes

  • Your poem should explore how physical spaces hold emotional significance
  • Consider writing in an authentic voice that feels personal and conversational
  • There are no restrictions on length, form, or rhyme scheme
  • Focus on creating vivid, sensory details that ground your emotions in concrete imagery

_____________________________________________________________________

Those were the times

I think of the times he made me live with a smile
Like gutting the fish in my kitchen simply vile
Like peeking at me through cracks in the door
Like scaring me senseless, but now he’s no more

I think of the times my heart broke and I’d cry
Like hurting himself and then wanting to die
Like running away being chased by the cops
Like popping a wheelie pulling out all the stops

I think of the times he made me angry and mad
Like telling me lies or the fake tales to his dad
Like growing some weed in his closet confined
Like ignoring my rules, defiance blowing my mind

I think of the times I will never see him again
When I’m driving alone, which occurs now and then
When I’m thinking about how I still am a mom
When this news blew my world like an atomic bomb

I think of my son, my baby, my second child born
The noise in my heading staying loud like a horn
The pain in my chest like a brick weighing a ton
The anguish I feel now that I’ve lost my son

©2025 CBialczak

27 comments

  3. Oh, Christine- this poem weighs so heavy. All those moments if you only knew- but how could you- you couldn’t. He was a person of his own accord- and you loved every aspect of him- I can tell. Beautiful.

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  8. This is heartbreaking Christine. We do our best, but still our children have their own lives and wills. It is so hard to watch someone we love destroy themselves. The pain and the helpless feeling never really goes away. (K)

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  14. Oh Christine – your poem is incredibly moving and beautifully honest. The way you’ve captured both the challenging and loving moments shows such emotional maturity and depth. Your use of repetition creates a hypnotic, prayer-like quality that draws readers into your experience. The vivid imagery makes every memory feel real and immediate. Your courage in sharing such personal pain while celebrating your son’s life is truly powerful. This is heartfelt, authentic poetry that honours both your love and your loss with remarkable grace.

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