Dennis Johnstone is this week’s Poet of the Week for the W3 Poetry Prompt #160, where he challenges us to write “toward something, rather than starting from it. You’ll be building pressure, rhythm, and meaning without naming your subject until the final line.” I wrote my poem, The Long Corridor, inspired by this incredible prompt.
To read Dennis’s full prompt guidelines, click here.
Dennis’ prompt guidelines
Let the noun wait
This week’s prompt invites you to write toward something, rather than starting from it. You’ll be building pressure, rhythm, and meaning without naming your subject until the final line.
Step 1: Choose an abstract noun
Pick a single abstract noun that carries weight, mystery, or tension for you—something like liberty, danger, truth, love, exile, justice, forgiveness, joy, grief, silence…
Don’t use it until your poem’s final line.
Step 2: Delay the subject
Start each line with a description or action that leads us toward the noun, not from it. This is called left-branching syntax—it means delaying the main subject or verb.
You’re working with delay, accumulation, and unfolding. The noun you’ve chosen arrives only at the end. Until then, build around it, toward it, beneath it. Let readers feel its shape before they hear its name.
Example:
Because the sky opened before the birds rose,
Because silence pulled across the hollows like a net,
Because no one moved, not even the guards,
We stood. And we waited. And we named it: freedom.
This technique builds tension and can feel incantatory, elegiac, or meditative. But to make it work, rhythm is essential.
Tips for rhythm
- Read aloud as you write.
- Listen for the pause—where your voice wants to land, hold, or shift.
- Let line length mirror breath: short for urgency, long for build-up.
- Repetition is your ally: repeat phrases to build flow (like “Because…” or “While…”).
Need inspiration?
These poems show how delay and rhythm can create power.
- Ash Wednesday by T. S. Eliot
- Dear Matafele Peinem by Kathy Jetñil-Kijiner
And, no, your poem definitely does not have to be as long as these!
Bonus points for recording yourself reading it.
In the prompt guidelines, Dennis says there are bonus points for recording yourself reading the poem. I think I’ll take him up on that!
The Long Corridor
Written and narrated by Lesley Scoble
The creaking of the ancient door
warns in long drawn-out groans
like all the years before—
to enter is against God’s lore…
beware… do not go in… it moans.
what is that?
what is that?
she looked ahead—
the corridor stretched for miles,
beyond where time could see…
beyond where you were I, and I were thee
a cold silent wind curled about her feet
each slow step taken was one more
towards defeat
her fine hair swirled about her face
streaming far behind—
following
her slow and stealthy pace—
long tresses flowing ~ like a river
running silently ~ deep
downstream
in wakeful sleep
she walked down the hallway—
a long and lonely path
within a strange but sacred dream;
treading lightly,
slowly in time to pass—
grey
ghostly swathes of cloth,
draped
like agèd cobwebs at dim windows
sifting an eerie moon—
hanging in grotesque poses
like torn wraiths
tearing at the glass
through cracked dull windowpanes
a reluctant breath of night air enters
the shadowed hall;
cloth covers hide secret chairs
as though each one wears a hallowed pall;
on she walks…
the slack, dust-laden curtains stir, and lift
writhing in disturbance;
weaving worn lace spells
whispering,
who are you?
who are you?
why are you in this place?
why are you here?
ignoring curtained pleas, she slips past
her eyes downcast fear trembling in her knees,
the moonlight streamed
around her gaunt tormented face
in this,
her last unwanted haunt
where once we dreamed.
the moonlight traced blue and silver
around her pale, small features,
its ethereal beam—that long-time deceiver
casting moon shadows on the wall—
twisted gargoyles, terrible creatures;
with unheard scream—she hurried past in fright,
like a twist of starlight in whorls of mist
after rain
unburdened of tears,
unleashed again
some way ahead she sees a glow
flickering in the darkest shadow
a cold silent wind curled about her feet
each slow, tentative step taken was one more
toward retreat
she stops—tense—
in thought to turn around…
but then— came a familiar haunting sound…
a piano was playing their old song
one of
reminiscence
she walks on
along the long corridor
the floorboards creak
toward the glowing aura
toward the shimmer and the sway
toward the music of Coldplay
her footsteps sneak—
toward the end
of night—where sunshines peek
forward
onward
into
the luminescence
into
the Light
and
she feels
the awe
of
Presence.
Lesley Scoble, May 2025
THANK YOU
My thanks to David Bogomolny, The Skeptics kaddish, as always, for his unending enthusiasm and support.
Thank you, Dennis Johnstone, for your incredible prompt! I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge.
Last, but by no means least, I thank you, the reader, for taking time to read my poem. Thank you for visiting. 🙏
Follow the link below to discover more about the W3 Poetry Prompt.
LesleyScoble.com 
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