SEVEN-MINUTE MICRO POETRY: A Strange Case of Acidification

header image used for word prompt

What is Seven-Minute Micro Poetry?

Seven-minute micro poetry (#7MMP) is a writing exercise aimed at getting the creative engine started. A prompt image created by Artbreeder; an AI-generated image using a neural network serves as a jumping-off point for writing your micro poem. You have seven minutes from the moment your pen touches paper. You’re free to interpret the image in any way you wish. Even a singular aspect of an image (e.g. the colour red, the time of day, a mountain) could be what inspires you to write your piece. I’m hoping this loose structure will allow for more people to get involved without feeling weighed down by the prompt. Extra time for grammar and spelling corrections is fine. Focus on the creativity of your work in the seven minutes.

How to Get Involved

Feel free to comment with your poem below. Alternatively, send me a link to your blog with the poem and I’ll do a round-up of my favourites. I’ve posted my poem to give you an example. I hope you find this little exercise useful in enabling your creativity. If you have any questions or ideas on how to make this tag better you can reach me via my contact page or in the comments. Happy Creating!


There are seeds inside my head
nestled between the folds of my brain.
Waiting to grow a bridge between
the familiar and the fantastic.

Tending to ideas.
Hoping to harvest new thoughts.
Which one will spring forth from its
slumber?
I wonder aloud.

I feed my botanical babes :
Marley & Mozart;
Beaufort & Asgard;
Anansi & Duchamp

The seedlings gorge on everything in sight.
Synthesizing emotions;
traveling by technicoloured neurons.
Firing like fireworks aimed
towards the heavens

Ascending.

At the peak of consciousness
I hear a chorus—whose song could
wake the dead with a smile and
guide them home.

I am stretched at the sinews,
shattering through reality’s
stained-glass.

This is it. I say.

A radiant bloom opens the third eye.

I am colour.
Seen and unseen.
She is all light;
nothing in between.

The goddess speaks her name with a tongue
that wraps itself around me.
We converse through the goosebumps
on our skin, sweating out new stars.
Our soft moans give rise to new worlds
A melding of minds creating new species

A dance across the galaxy—
Two flowers in the sky

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Grew up in the Essex countryside and currently resides in London. Passing through his 30s far too quickly. Likes: writing, design, the arts, and copious amounts of coffee. He is working on his first novel.

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