Do you feel that?

Do You Feel That?

Matthew Sanders

Do you feel that?

the fear.

the anxiety.

the stress.

Do you feel that?

the mystery.

the confusion.

the speculation.

Do you feel that?

the wind.

the thin air.

the cold dark sky.

Do you feel that?

the calmness.

the bliss.

the embrace of the sunrise.

Do you feel that?

The love.

The warmth.

The happiness.

Do you feel that?

I don’t think you do.

I don’t think you know.

I don’t think you’re real.



Most lines must start with “the.”

Most lines have to do with a certain feeling or emotion

The lines cannot be more than 5 words

“Do you feel that,” must be repeated throughout the poem



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Journal 6

Prompt # 3

We used to drive till we found
a new hiding spot along the York river.
We used your fuzzy blanket
you kept in the back of your car.
We used to pack picnic lunches
of precious Chick-fil-a, laughing wildly.
We used to curl up and wish upon stars
and whisper lovely thoughts into each others ears.

You used to rock me gently
through every piercing panic attack.
You used to bring me Earl Grey
and draw a steaming bubble bath.
You used to hand me a single rose at the beginning of the day
forcing me to carry it sticking out of my backpack for everyone to see.
You used to know that would bring a sweet smile to my face
and would smile knowing that my freckles scrunched because of your actions.

I used to try to knit every stitch of our memories together
to build a foundation for our lives.
I used to think that it wouldn’t unravel
and change into something different.
I used to wonder how you could not see
the unhappiness in my fake smile.
I used to hope that you could hear my pleas
so it wouldn’t come to an end.

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Journal 6

I Remember 

I remember it all.
I remember the good times.
I remember the twinkle in your eyes.
I remember the echo of your laugh,
I used to laugh along.
I used to come alive when I saw your face.
I used to smile at just your name,
I used to feel the same way too.
I want to hold on.
I want to keep trying.
I want to change this.
I want what’s best for both of us too.

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Journal 6

Prompt 2.
Rules: Every stanza begins and ends with the same word (begins with “she” and ends with “leave”). The last stanza breaks this rule for emphasis.




She was what you would call a rebel.
A storm with a rebel heart,
and a gypsy soul,
perfectly conditioned to do,
what she did best. Leave.

She was born with a restlessness,
so deeply embedded in the core of her being,
that sometimes I wonder,
if she could ever be tamed.
Patience is a virtue, and it was her forte.
Just leave.

She was always waiting,
for something.
Time had planted a longing in her,
and that is a weed that never stops growing.
She has to leave.

She always seemed careless.
Her smile was the peak of her bloom,
ând my God,
how rare it is,
to see spectacular flowers blossom,
in the winter cold.
But she left.

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Journal 6: Prompt 2

Rule: One action image per line

The grass blows in the breeze
looking like rolling waves,
as it whispers on the wind
calling out.

The wildflowers glisten
and flourish under the sun’s warmth
spreading pollen for
newer fauna to grow.

The butterfly’s wings flutter
as the wind whistles across the field
pulling it this way and that
begging it to fly higher.

The sun’s rays beat down
filling the world with light
giving light
to hungry nature.

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Journal 6

Prompt 3:

Daddy used to be my hero
Daddy used to swing me on the swings
Daddy used to let me go as high as I could
Daddy used to take me out for ice cream later
Daddy used to hold my hand
Daddy used to look at me and see me

Now Daddy just sips from his bottle
Now Daddy takes naps in the afternoon
Now Daddy forgets my name
Now Daddy stumbles across the house
Now Daddy doesn’t know when I cry
Now Daddy stays in his own blurred world

Daddy used to be my hero
Now Daddy stays in his own blurred world

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Journal 6

Prompt 3


I used to sit on the side of the road with you.

I used to lay into your chest, laughing at the people walking by.

We used to talk about them, you and I.


I used to feel love for you as if you were my brother,

You used to foster our platonic love.

You used to never want me to feel pain or sadness.


We used to walk around Old Town,

We used to giggle secrets into each other’s ears.

You used to always smile when you were with me.


I used to pour my heart out to you.

You used to care.

You used to tell me we would be friends forever.


I used to believe it.


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What A Girl Wants – Anaphora – Journal 6

I want to tell you everything,
I want to make things right.
I want your frown to become a smile,
I want my tears to stop.
I want a lightness in your eyes,
I want a gentle touch.
I want to hold your hand and
I want to feel me blush.
I want to make you look at me,
I want a soft kiss.
I want what we had back, and
I want it to be bliss.
I want you to understand and
I want you to forget.
I want you to know I never meant what I said.
I want what’s best for me and
I want what’s best for you,
I want you to see she’s not the one for you.
I want you to leave her,
I want you in my bed.
I want you to think she’s ugly,
I want you to tell her that.
I want you to love only me, and
I want you to know that you should.
I want you to want me, and
I want you.

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Journal #6 Prompt 3

I am like a friendly greeting.
I am like a tightly Spun ball of yarn
I am like a door left Ajar
I am like a sound night’s Rest
I am like a policeman’s first Arrest
I am like a newlywed couple’s first Home
I am like a sweet goodbye.


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Journal 6

The first line of each stanza must include a color.

Downtown Fredericksburg

The red brick walls speak to me,                                                                         their beauty distracts me                                                                                         from the task at hand.

The bright yellow sun highlights                                                                           the face of the building                                                                                                   as a motorcycle roars past.

The sky, bluer than my jeans                                                                             inspires me to write something                                                                             just as classic.

Girls in hues of pink                                                                                                   walk past, gossiping                                                                                                   about a cute boy.

The metallic silver                                                                                                             of a truck catches my eye                                                                                               as it sits at the traffic light.

The invisible hands of the wind                                                                         ruffles my hair and brings a hope                                                                         only spring can inspire.

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