Prompts

Write about a gift. . . Prompt #119

Gift Box.2Part 1:  Write about a gift someone gave you that you didn’t like, didn’t know what to do with or had no use for.

Part 2:  What does this gift say about the person who gave it to you?
Whenever there is a prompt like this, you can also write about the opposite.

Part 1A: Write about a gift you loved, a gift that was a surprise in a good way, a gift that worked really well.
Part 1B: What does this gift say about the person who gave it to you?  Gift Box.3

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3 comments

  1. wrdpntr

    The Gift

    Early on I told him how I felt about orchids
    that I kill them no matter what I do
    and asked him not to give me one.

    On my birthday I awoke
    to a Mylar balloon
    tied to a clay pot above
    a single white orchid.

    Maybe I dislike them
    because they seem too perfect
    the impossibility of their waxy virginity.

    Though I loved the man
    his warm smile
    generous heart

    I did not love his ears
    blocked by lifetimes of trauma
    ears that could not hear my heart.

    He always gave me little gifts
    for no apparent reason—the best kind of giving
    but could not hold a gift from me.

    It wasn’t that he didn’t like the gift
    or appreciate the giving—
    we never got that far.

    He’d act as if it hadn’t happened
    would set it on a table
    and avert his eyes.

    You’re supposed to say “thank you”
    I told him once
    no embarrassment registered on his face.

    1. mcullen Post author

      I love this “story told in poetic form.” I’m drawn in by the opening stanza . . . this could be my story. My husband has given me countless orchids and finally heard me. . . “No more, I just kill them.” I don’t mean to, of course. The image of the “Mylar balloon tied to a clay pot above a single white orchid” is haunting in the simple wording and oh, so eloquent in meaning. The third stanza opens my mind to a new perspective about orchids . . . lovely to behold but unforgiving in the wrong hands. The fifth stanza is amazing, “I did not love his ears/ blocked by lifetimes of trauma/ ears that could not hear my heart.” I had to re-read that, to savor the delivery and meaning. Gorgeous writing!

  2. wrdpntr

    Thanks for your detailed feedback, Marlene. It was a story that had to be told, at least for me.

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