Writing our way into Week Two


"Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance." – Carl Sandburg

Hey friend,

We’ve made it through the first week of September, one poem at a time. If you’ve been writing, I hope you’ve surprised yourself with the small magic of showing up daily—even for 15 minutes. If you’ve missed a day, that’s okay too. This challenge is about presence, not perfection.

Here’s the next set of prompts to carry us into Week Two. Keep your notebook or notes app ready. Stay open, stay curious.


September 8–14 Prompts

September 8 – The Sky at a Moment That Mattered
Think of a sky you remember—stormy, clear, sunset, night full of stars.
Tip: Don’t just describe how it looked. Describe what was happening in your life beneath it.

September 9 – A Voice You Still Hear
Write about a voice that stays with you—someone alive, someone gone, even your own voice at another age.
Tip: Capture the rhythm, tone, or a phrase they always said. Let that voice carry the poem.

September 10 – An Unexpected Gift
Write about a gift you didn’t see coming. Maybe it was an actual object, maybe a moment, maybe someone’s time.
Tip: Let the gift unfold slowly in the poem, as if you’re unwrapping it again.

September 11 – A Time You Walked Away
Write about leaving—whether it was a place, a person, or a moment.
Tip: Focus on the footsteps, the details of departure. Let silence speak.

September 12 – Water in Your Life
Bring water into your poem—a river, rain, the ocean, a cup, even tears.
Tip: Explore how water shapes mood. Is it cleansing, heavy, playful, or sorrowful?

September 13 – Something You Lost
Write about a lost object, opportunity, or relationship.
Tip: Instead of focusing only on the absence, show what traces remain.

September 14 – A Childhood Corner
Remember a corner of your childhood—maybe a room, a backyard, a street.
Tip: Let sensory detail (smell, touch, sound) pull the reader into that place.


Each of these prompts is designed to stir memory and presence. Don’t worry about making the poems “perfect.” Just write what comes—your voice is enough.

I’d love to know:

  • Have you been writing along?
  • Which of the prompts has surprised you the most so far?
  • What would you love me to share more of as we continue this month together?

"The act of writing is the act of discovering what you believe." – David Hare

Thank you again for being here, for writing, and for responding last week. Your words shape this space more than you know.

Here’s to Week Two—may it hold poems you didn’t know you had in you.

– Mechi


Hi! I'm Mechi.

All with lessons and insights on reading and writing poetry and short prose. Check out the resources I offer below and sign up for my newsletter!

Read more from Hi! I'm Mechi.

Hi friend, Here are two lines for you today: "Start before you’re ready. The page will meet you halfway." and"A single sentence can open a door you didn’t know was there." Writing doesn’t need perfect plans. It just needs presence. Even if you only put one word down, that word might lead you somewhere you didn’t expect. Now, some news. I know in the past I’ve talked about what I wanted to do, but I didn’t always show up. This time, I’m keeping it simple. Next month, I’ll be running a writing...

Hello friends, In our latest BuildWriting episode, I had the pleasure of talking with Shreya Suraj—a mathematician turned poet whose everyday experiences fuel powerful, accessible verse. Shreya walked us through her journey from structured rhymes to free‐verse freedom, shared her “Cell Phone or Prison Cell?” poem, and even gave us tips for hosting low‐pressure open mics when the lights flicker off. Here’s what stuck with me: • Spotting poetry in the ordinary changes everything. Shreya treats...

Apology and Reflection I stopped. And I’m really, really sorry I didn’t show up consistently for you. Now that I’ve apologized (and hopefully not jinxed myself), here’s what’s been rattling around in my brain: 1. The Definition of Art is Shifting Turns out, creativity isn’t what it used to be. The old rules? Looser. The new rules? Still forming. What we once called "art" has stretched, snapped back, and now includes things that would’ve made past generations squint in confusion. (Looking at...