This month’s writing prompt was Trophy. Here we showcase all the responses that were submitted.
Trophy prompt: What does it take to win? The golden shine of success, that taste of victory, the validation. A ceremonious applause for all your efforts. It’s taken a while to get here: is it worth it?
but babe i’m gilded
i could blow my whole life up in one sentence. i could move. i could leave. i could love. i could miss you or kiss you and it’s all in my hands. you’re too gentle. you love me and see me as a golden trophy but babe i’m gilded and i’m starting to tarnish. i’m eroded by words you’ll never say. i’m disintegrating in front of your eyes and you just watch. you’ll never ask for my hand, you’ll never choose me, you’ll just choose this limbo every time. it hurts but i’m starting to steel myself. i’m starting to save. i’m starting to plot. i’m starting over.
by Megan Ashe (@primarilypoetic Insta)
damned worthy
gleaming glow of glory means you’ve earned your place,
in a line of victors that came before you.
your mother will sink her teeth into the medal,
clawing her way inside.
“What good is a trophy if you are not the first to earn it?”
glorious of a trophy you are,
moulded, and carved, and glistening.
your mother will probe into every dent,
dig herself into your curves,
and her mocking grin wields itself.
“What good is a trophy if you are not me?”
gruelling as every flaw can be,
every broken piece held in the palm of your hand,
tied by glue and a need to simply be.
your mother’s hunger is endless,
born from a line of mothers before her,
her sharp words become an echo,
her claws dull over time.
What is a trophy if I am not free?
you are damned if you are,
damned if you don’t,
your fist clenched, your head held high,
as glorious, golden as you can be.
by angel yris mae (@martenaise X)
Trophy
I wake up at 8,
Sometimes 8.15.
I make breakfast
and my bus with ease.
I text her with goodmorning,
She responds in kind.
We stick to dears and darlings,
I don’t yet feel it unraveling.
The commute, more often
Soundtracked by songs
As opposed to to silent
Soliloquies.
My work consists of of completing tasks
As they are given.
I feel accomplished and appreciated.
When will I start bragging?
I thought I already was.
I see the difference,
In this instance,
I feel no need to explain.
As to explain, would be to re-insert
Cycles I have since
eclipsed.
So when I say I’ve succumbed
to intimacy,
And to acceptance,
And to competency,
Believe me, trust me
I’m holding a trophy.
by Kyle Adam (@_over_spill Insta)
MORE THAN JUST YOUR TROPHY
From a young age,
I understood that a woman is like a trophy.
Pretty to look at,
Nice to hold,
A prize to be won.
With that in mind,
I’ve been taught how to look,
How to act,
How to smell,
All to be perceived in this world by people who view me as nothing more than an object.
I’ve been told how to speak,
How to dress,
How to smile,
All to be the perfect piece of candy hanging on your arm.
Because of the curve of my waist,
The flesh around my hips,
And the heaviness of my breasts,
I am nothing more than a hunk of metal on the shelf,
But that couldn't be further from the truth.
I’ve learned to speak my mind,
To tell my truth,
To raise my voice.
I am kind.
I am compassionate.
I am worthy.
I am more than a piece of decor for your display case.
More than just your trophy.
by Asia Wheeler (@amwheeler_author Insta, @amsunshine_ X)
My cat and a trophy
We moved to a new city
With my cat and a trophy
I lost my cat, Someone stole the trophy
We moved to a new city
In a few months, we’re leaving this city
Without my cat and a trophy
We moved to a new city
With my cat and a trophy
by Inner Monologue (@inner__monologue__)
An Ode to Oscar
Oh, how I have waited for you
Dreamt of your gold,
Your shape,
Your engraving,
Your glimmer and shine.
Awe inspiring, unachievable, yet somehow,
eventually,
mine.
Celebrations followed by sparkling nights in
your name.
Now on the shelf
Gathering dust
In the end
Not really what I wanted
by Lucy O’Niell (@turningthepage08 Insta)
swim press 