Loud Christmas carols filling air
Loud decorations everywhere
Loud requests made on Santa’s knee
Loud are our childhood memories
On this most holy silent night
I found the stream of consciousness prompt to write about “loud,” fascination. In following the guidelines and with only the prompt word “loud” and the idea of Christmas the poem above began to form. Without any intention of doing so, the first nine lines fell into a 1-3-8-1-3-8 . . . syllable pattern. The final line (also 8 syllables) came naturally, but the 10th line did, I admit require one edit to bring it to 3 syllables.