2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 11

Wow! I made it back home just in time to share today’s prompt. For those of you who don’t follow me on Facebook, I participated in a panel yesterday in Austin from 1-3 p.m., and immediately after it was finished, I jumped in my car and made for Duluth, Georgia. And I literally walked in the door, turned on my computer, and here we are.

I’ll share a wrap up on the Austin International Poetry Festival later this week, and I’ve got a lot of cool stuff to share the rest of this month as well (including guest posts, poet interviews, and more). Oh yeah, and we still have these daily prompts. 😉


For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Maybe (blank);” replace the blank with a word or phrase; make the new phrase the title of your poem; and then, write the poem. Some example titles might be: “Maybe I should’ve read the instructions first,” “Maybe I was wrong,” “Maybe the world is flat,” or whatever else y’all can muster. I admit that my brain is a little exhausted.

Regardless, here’s my attempt:

“Maybe next time”

I’ll make it a two-day trip and get
a hotel room in Shreveport, which wasn’t
what I expected. Instead of some
Cajun interpretation of Dayton,
Ohio, I found myself driving through
a mini-Mark Twain Vegas–complete
with riverboats and bright-lit casinos.
I’m not saying I’d want to gamble, just
that there’s nothing much in Mississippi.


I do apologize to anyone from Mississippi. The people there were nice when I stopped, but it made for lonely driving on I-20 last night/this very early morning.

Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer


I want to thank Tammy for helping me with the blog while I was out of town and for being so supportive of everything I do in general. Believe me, these challenges would never be successful without her help during the month.


Want to publish your poetry?
Then, check out the 2011 Poet’s Market, edited by Robert Lee Brewer. It lists hundreds of publication opportunities for poets, including magazines, book publishers, contests, and more. Plus, the book contains articles on the business and craft of poetry.

Click here to learn more.

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0 thoughts on “2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 11

  1. Lori P

    Maybe I could

    See what I missed
    Write what I wanted to say
    Be who I wasn’t
    Maybe I would
    Run this life race
    Live like I should
    Love without regret
    If I didn’t have to fight
    But it wouldn’t mean anything

  2. Penny Henderson


    The buzz was everywhere.
    They thought he’d come at last.
    Crowds were growing like fleas
    on a dog nobody combs.
    The big shots were wary,
    it was all way too big.
    There weren’t enough legions
    stationed in Israel
    to quell wholesale riots.
    ‘Let’s nip it in the bud’
    they thought, and bought a snitch.
    It went well on Friday.
    They failed to factor in
    what he did on Sunday

  3. Benjamin Thomas

    Walt: Good poem 🙂 I was encouraged. Thanks for posting.

    Annie mcwilliams: you have a very beautiful poem.

    Tanja Cilia: perhaps acrostic….we care

  4. Kate Fern

    Maybe or not

    When the kids ask
    to go bowling or the movies
    I say maybe – we’ll see,
    not to fob them off
    but because the future is uncertain
    and in that fog it’s difficult
    to plan anything.

  5. annie mcwilliams


    life doesn’t change that much,
    long finger of spring sunshine
    pokes down through dusty panes
    and glistens off a crystal vase
    into the huge green eyes of a house cat
    once dreamy and calm, dazzling her as
    she watches sparrows, driving her heart
    into the midday light

    the smell of something simple
    like coffee, or toast, can bring an instinctive
    peace enough for us to rise past
    any unexplained moment
    as streams creep under ice,
    as sweet seasons warm hills
    before day divides into tasks
    that point us in every direction
    that will swallow us whole

  6. Iain D. Kemp

    Dear Moosehead,
    Sweet Lord! What was that?
    What happened? I’ve seen 12 year old
    girls pitch better. I’ve seen blind men
    with fly swatters make more hits.
    Maybe I should move to Queens with you
    and start rooting for “the other team”.
    Seriously I’m that angry. A rest day?
    They need to get on the practice field.
    We need a rest day. Back to work,
    make some money and forget about
    being stuffed by the Red Sox.
    Have you seen what we’ve got coming up?
    They better get it together or there’s gonna
    be a bleacher riot! Now I gotta find out what
    kinda mutt those harpies bought. If it’s chewing
    my stuff I’ll eat the lil B*****D. Check you tomorrow.
    Give my hate to your neighbours in Flushing Meadows.

    Yours bewildered and bleeding from the heart
    Ringo the Howler

  7. Iain D. Kemp

    Maybe, maybe not

    I might grow wings and fly to the moon
    I might slip physically into my dreams and live in a fantasy world
    I might get a poetry book deal and be famous
    I might clean out the spare room – at last
    I might discover where I put my willpower and self-motivation
    I might stash my wallet with them to avoid temptation
    I might finish my novel – don’t hold your breath
    I might spontaneously combust and rise phoenix like as a prophet
    I might fill in the blanks in my life
    I might see all my dreams come true
    I might commune with faeries and tell magic tales
    I might fall in love and live forever in bliss
    I might say something so profound it changes the world
    I might cry oceans and flood the earth
    I might have a shave and finally get dressed
    Well, maybe, maybe not…


  8. Walt Wojtanik


    You’ve been a-mused for longer
    than other ever know,
    but up ’til then you’ve held your pen
    and didn’t want to show

    the wonder of your power,
    your worded muscles flexed
    your "newness" is quite new to you,
    and makes you feel quite perplexed.

    It is the first time you expose
    your heart and all its strength,
    we read your work and are impressed
    at its expressiveness and length.

    The welcome that’s extended
    is not a slap or slight,
    it says you’ve come to the right place
    with all the poems you write.

    Maybe you’ve been poeming
    for longer than you remember,
    but this connection that you’ve made
    will serve you well in November.

    Take the challenge, take your place,
    we’re awful glad to read you,
    and while I’m at it I’ll include
    this blog does truly need you.

  9. Nimue

    Combining Day 10 & 11 prompts –

    Never Again

    Maybe never again
    will I blame you or me
    for what went wrong;
    ’cause wrong is not
    a word to describe
    whatever that was not
    real,but just hopes.

  10. Tanja Cilia

    Perhaps Acrostic

    Perhaps you too will stop and stare
    Each look, each glance, and every glare
    Reminds me more that life’s not fair
    How can you judge me, how do you dare
    Angels themselves wish a love so rare
    Please know that my life is bereft and bare
    Somebody, somewhere, understand… and care.

  11. Chimnese

    Maybe love isn’t for me

    We search and we search
    And we get to the bridge of that
    One thing where we have to hand over
    Our hearts,
    And you question yourself into
    The ground,
    Asking yourself,
    Then you stop to think?
    Just maybe love isn’t for me.

  12. Tilly Bud

    I struggled with this one so it’s good to see lots of great poems from the prompt.

    My favourites:

    Andrew Kreider’s ‘Eh?’
    RJ Clarken, I loved the economy of ‘Strike Three’
    Julie Hayes, I thought yours was funny and clever.

    Here’s mine:

    No ‘Maybe’ About It

    If this is the best
    this poem will get, maybe
    I should stop writing.

  13. Gretchen Gersh Whitman

    PAD 2011- April 11
    Prompt: Maybe blank

    Maybe tomorrow will be

    different. Maybe she will
    let her hair go gray. She will rise at
    the crack of dawn &
    hike along the Hudson.

    She will stop at
    the coffee shop & buy
    an apricot scone with
    a hazelnut brew & not
    count the calories.

    Then she will tackle
    the dreaded spring cleaning.
    Sorting old clothes, discarding
    the husk of the past, but
    not memories attached.

    This is her mother’s red Chinese silk
    robe, tattered, needing a new lining, with
    the embroidered peacock on
    the back. Like her mother, brilliant,
    falling apart. This won’t go to Good Will.

    This is her wedding dress, white dotted swiss
    wrapped in plastic, awaiting a new bride.
    She went alone for the fitting.
    Her father complained that it cost
    too much for one dress.
    This won’t go to Good Will.

    Time to lose the rest.
    The some day garments
    that will never fit. The daily
    threads that performed their duty,
    that went to work, no
    worse for wear, but no longer do.
    These Good Will can take.

    She will stare at the space in
    the closet & wonder, “Who is
    this new woman?” The one who
    pares down to essentials.

  14. MiskMask

    I am stunned to *near* silence at the quality of work posted here for this prompt. All are exceptional, and I find it difficult to select favourites. For that reason, I’m posting a blanket well done to all and thank you for a thoroughly enjoyable read.

    To all those who saw fit to mention my name today, my sincere thanks. Your comments and kindness keep my brain and imagination in gear.

    And to Walt, I’ve tucked your comment into my ‘bouncing whelk and ugly goats" file for future reflection when and as required. xx

  15. Tracy Davidson

    Maybe David Niven was right

    And the moon really is a balloon.
    Maybe some alien child
    let it loose one day,
    billions of years ago.

    And it drifted through space,
    travelling millions of light years
    until it ran out of gas
    and got sucked in
    to the infant Earth’s gravity.

    Perhaps the alien child
    attached a note to it somewhere,
    that we have yet to find.
    Perhaps he or she, or it,
    is still waiting for a reply.

  16. Barbara Ehrentreu

    Again I came late to this bouquet of excellence and I’m placing my small offering in the midst of this. So many poems have hit me, but alas, I must sleep.:) I will try to come back and read them all and give my comments if I can. Thank you to Pearl for being my number one fan and giving me the support to continue writing. May Bea became a little saga and I loved the ending. "goofnight" indeed.:)

    Here is mine:


    All of those forwards bringing me news
    of huge windfalls about to happen for me
    if only I send out these photos to 7 or 10 or 12
    friends who must do the same, will work their magic?
    Or perhaps Publisher’s Clearing House will show
    up outside my door with balloons and a giant check
    made out to me?
    Maybe the disaster at Fukishima won’t destroy a beautiful
    creative and centered country so far across the world from
    us and so burdened with nature’s growing pains

    Maybe when my book is published
    It will catch the interest of the girls who now follow
    vampire’s lives and have forsaken the stories of girls like
    Maybe I’ll wake up and be ten pounds thinner, millions of dollars richer
    and millions of brain cells brighter.
    Or maybe the maybes will all go away
    and I will learn to live in the yeses.

  17. Angel V.

    "Maybe Later"

    Though words suggested I might change my mind,
    we both already knew it was goodbye.
    Even through text, the bitterness and lie
    were obvious. There’d be no other time.

    The calls and texts and pokes she often left
    had ceased. At home, alone, I imagined
    she flogged herself over that day she sinned
    against me, drowning in restless regret.

    The latter months sprung upon
    me. She already found my replacement.
    Just as my anger readied to relent,
    hope of reunion had already gone.

    Every evening alone at home, I plead
    with God to return her or make her bleed.

  18. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    May Bea

    May Bea was a young girl  when her widowed father keeled over in his garden, clutched his chest and died
    Left her caretaker of the cottage and his roses, both of them  his pride

    May Bea had planned to go to schooling a teacher she was certain she would be
    But first the roses needed pruning, growing up there round the willow tree

    May  Bea wore a hat upon her head but her hands in the wormy earth always they were bare
    The roses bloomed in manic  profusion pouring o’er the garden under ceaseless songful care

    Out in front the garden there  was a fence, a slat gated, simple white painted thing
    Out there, on drifted air any passer by, could clearly hear sweet May Bea sing

    May Bea sang in her high contralto, her tones at first pitch perfect crystal clear
    Sang the songs of her father’s boyhood country, the notes he held so dear

    Months  they kept on melting one year soft as rose petals becoming five, then ten, and on
    Blue veins sprouted neath her white skinned hands and pushed her youth til it was true begone

    Miss May Bea kept on singing for eighty years, although at last her voice  grew whispered low
    Her tattered hat slipped from her head, on rose strewn ground Miss May Bea, gardened go   
    May Bea had planned to go to schooling when her garden chores were through
    Only there always was a something that was in desperate need for her to do 

    ( wrote this …it disappeared tried to rewrite….arrrrtgh!!!…. Goofnight)

  19. Benjamin Thomas

    Michael Grove

    Peace to you too Michael.
    Looks like you are going to make your mark of hundred in thirty days. Good job.

    Until meet again on the twelfth day.
    Good night to all, and to all a good night.

  20. Michael Grove

    There are so many talented poets here I bow to you all.
    Thanks Linda Voit and Jane Shlensky for the mention.
    Jane – I do not know that ballad but I will look it up.
    Thanks to the poets here at "Asides" that have also friended me in that "other" community.
    I have enjoyed participating in this challenge.

  21. John Pupo

    Maybe Luxurious Simplicity Euphoria

    Luscious lip service
    serving vocals in a
    serendipitous sultry
    silky style.

    Neo-soul grooves
    grafting diatribes with
    sensibility, refinement
    and whimsy.

    Coffee culture can’t
    explain or realize
    the centralization –
    emotional encapsulation
    in the bass beat.

    A sense of calm
    enraptures and envelopes;
    leaving behind only
    what can be described
    as utopia.

  22. Benjamin Thomas

    Maybe I should’ve been a lumberjack

    Maybe I should’ve been a lumberjack
    Puttin’ big trees upon my back

    Maybe I should’ve bought an axe
    To cut down trees in piles and stacks

    Maybe I should’ve grown a beard
    Or would you think thats too weird?

    Maybe I should’ve bought some boots
    To knock down trees, trunks and roots

    Maybe I’ll cut down tall trees, big trees
    Oranges, apples, nuts and pears please

    Maybe I’ll find the biggest tree ever
    And show that tree who’s boss and sever

    Maybe It’ll just be a breeze
    When I grunt, growl and bend my knees

    I’ll swing and swing til’ the tree comes down
    It’s trunk and crown upon the ground

    Maybe this would be too much fun
    Half the time I’d be on the run

    I’d find your yard and cut your trees
    Slice and dice as I feel the breeze

    From national forest to grand central park
    around the country I’d make my mark

    Or maybe I’m just talkin’ too much smack
    Maybe I shouldn’t be a lumberjack

  23. A~Lotus

    Maybe I don’t want to

    write a poem today, and even if I did, I would want
    each word to smell of pink champagne and peach blossoms,
    jasmine and bergamot, honeysuckle and caramel. Or hear
    how each word rolls off the page like seaweeds scraping the rocks
    creating sea foams at dusk like some recurring poetic dream as if I was
    the reincarnated Mozart.

  24. de jackson

    Aaack. Last one, I swear.

    Becka: "Maybe next time will be different" really touched me, and brought to heart a life long past. I’m hoping you’re just an excellent poet who is able to channel pain she may not know herself…either way, next time CAN be different…IF the girl in the poem gets away as soon as possible. As someone who’s living her "second chance" existence, I believe that with all my heart. Praying for the poem girl, because I know that even if not you, there are many of them out there.

  25. de jackson

    Just a couple more kudos before I mustmustmust get back to my much-neglected life (oh, April, how torn you make me).

    Stephen S Whitaker: "Maybe I should go to AA" floored me. "The disease carries your face in a paper bag." There is such pain – and understanding – in your words. Powerfully written. Thank you for sharing it.

    Daniel Paicopulous: "Maybe We Could"…there is such a lovely, lively contentment to your words, and I feel like this is definitely not the first time I’ve felt that from you. Contentment is something I am ever chasing, and your poem catches it beautifully.

  26. Paula Wanken

    I think my poem today speaks for itself…but felt I should say that I recognize that, though it counts as a "poem for the day", it was something I threw together in a minute or two to beat the deadline. Hopefully tomorrow will bring new life and inspiration…and a little extra breathing room! I’ll have to catch up on reading, later. Happy Day 11, everyone!


    before dew settles
    maybe I can get some sleep ~
    it’s been a long day

    2011-04-11 10:47 p.m.
    P. Wanken

    written for Poetic Asides poem-a-day challenge
    Day 11: "Maybe…"

  27. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    Thanks to Sara V. to Jane. To Domino….

    To my dear fellow journey- man Walt… we have found echoes of each other sometimes in perfect harmony, sometimes calling out from divergent paths but always knowing that if need be there would be a responding voice to a call, to share, to support, to challenge, to tease, to play, to forgive, to poem. Thank you Walt.

    ( I am also delighted that I was not grounded by the PL " for language" earlier in the day… Lol)

    To Elizabeth grinned at your May Bee as we were on same wavelength….

    To all others…last night I did not sleep until 4:30am …and up at 7:30.,,, wasn’t coherent really until late afternoon!
    Tonight I thank this wonderful community….and the sense of joyful connectedness it provides to what is usually a solitary pursuit! Know that I have read and enjoyed each poem preceding this post.. and that I am delighted to be a thread in the tapestry of this sparkling tapestry …. This glitter threaded magic carpet that soars over PA Street…
    Good night to all….

  28. Jane Shlensky

    Domino, I feel the same way. I’m developing an addiction that, even though time consuming, at least is not fattening. Thanks to all of you for support of us "newbies".

  29. JSP

    Maybe Someday

    Maybe someday
    My ship will come in
    Maybe someday
    I’ll no longer sin

    Maybe someday
    I’ll write the great poem
    Maybe someday
    We’ll toast from a jeroboam

    Maybe someday
    I’ll dance and twirl
    Maybe someday
    I’ll leave this world

    Maybe someday
    And it won’t be long
    I’ll stand at the pearly gate
    To learn my new song

  30. Michael Grove

    MY 4th EFFORT

    Maybe Next Time

    Mel and Brian were born in the city.
    No lakes or rivers there.
    That was a pity.
    Their moms and dads were neighbors there.
    And they grew up seemingly
    without a care.


    Yes, these young lads became best of pals.
    They made big plans to go fishing.
    But it rained all day
    that Saturday.
    Maybe next time, they started wishing.

    When teens they planned a getaway.
    Go fishing at the lake.
    But storms filled the air,
    it didn’t seem fair.
    Maybe Next time for gosh sake.

    Young men with new ambitions aimed
    in very different ways
    sat down and made
    a pact to fish
    maybe one of these fine days.

    Then grown men with their career drive
    planned family vacations.
    “We’ll get to our fishing trip…
    Maybe our next destination.”

    Then they retired and moved down south
    To two too separate states.
    We’ve got to plan that fishing trip.
    “Maybe Next time, it’s our fate!”

    “Well Hell” said Mel when he felt well
    as he turned eighty-seven years.
    “I’m dyin’ to wet a line with my old pal Brian.”
    So,They made it happen after all these years.

    Well Mel and Brian did a little cryin’
    On that fishing trip in June.
    It’s just the way and the graceful glory.
    That made it happen none too soon.

    You see neither our friends Mel or Brian.
    Made it past the fallen year of eighty-seven.
    But never fear, my dear, it’s clear…
    eternity is here
    They are fishing every day up in heaven.

    By Michael Grove

  31. Walt Wojtanik

    Sara, Barbara, de, Domino – You are all very welcome. I know what I like and your collective works are among them. That and toasted marshmallows!

    Domino – I really don’t count them, I write the poems as quickly as they come to me. I hate to leave an inspiration behind.

  32. Patti Williams

    Oh yes, I still believe in maybe.

    Maybe my writings will be published,
    Any and all of them,
    Whichever the universe prefers.
    Maybe my life will get better.
    Maybe my kids will succeed in
    The way I know they can.
    Maybe my life experiences
    Will be the catalyst leading to
    Effects greater than I ever imagined.
    Maybe good news will start to
    Come my way on the worst of days
    And maybe I will smile when
    I didn’t think I had it in me.
    Maybe my life will make a
    Difference to someone else’s
    And maybe I will
    Actually add to the world.
    Maybe the deeper meaning
    Will come shining through
    Beaming us all right in the
    Face with the hopefulness of “what if.”
    Maybe I will find the way
    To inspire and
    Just maybe in the process
    Of learning, shining, healing

    Maybe, I will find love again.
    Oh yes, I still defiantly believe in maybe.
    Because you just never know.

  33. Sara McNulty

    Maybe I Will Learn

    think of
    you on the
    85th floor of
    Tower Two, while building ablaze,
    crumpled to dust as I sat trapped
    on a bus, late, not
    at work in

  34. Buddah Moskowitz

    Maybe Tomorrow(for Sarah)

    Maybe tomorrow
    things will look different,

    no, they will look different
    if only because you’ll be seeing them
    with eyeballs that are
    one day older.

    Maybe tomorrow
    everyone you thought
    was ignoring you
    will come around
    slapping you
    on the back asking
    “where’ve you been?”

    Maybe tomorrow
    whatever dark mood
    that’s intruded upon you
    will instantly vanish
    by something as simple
    and random as
    the dog dancing wildly
    when you come home,
    or a freshly baked
    chocolate chip and M&M cookie,
    or your favorite
    song playing on the radio.

    when you’re feeling
    low and blue,
    and it feels like nothing
    will ever change,

    remember this:

    the only thing we can
    predict in this world
    is change!

    The darkness won’t last forever,
    it’ll change too.

    Until then,
    be good to yourself,
    take care of yourself

    and if you have to,
    sneak away to a private place

    and give yourself a
    big ,

    until I can give you one

    Love, Pop-o

  35. Scott Martin

    Maybe this beer was a bad idea.
    Far from an evening bender,
    The lone drink came after dinner,
    After the kids had brushed their teeth,
    After I had resolved to eat nothing else.

    An hour into primetime televisiontelevision, we realized:
    No one can stop us.
    We don’t need to ask permission.
    Far from sneaking liquor from our parents’ cabinet,
    We’re the parents.
    We can pilfer our own supply.

    Still, I wish I hadn’t
    Brushed my teeth already.

  36. Karen H. Phillips

    Day 11
    Write a poem entitled "Maybe ___" with a word or phrase in the blank.

    Maybe Poetry

    will sing in my veins
    and smile in my eyes
    when the poets read.

    Maybe nouns
    and verbs will shoot
    out my fingertips
    and I’ll write like them.

    Maybe sleek cats
    and golden moons will streak
    from me across cyberspace
    evoking smiles and tears.

  37. de jackson

    Wow, Walt. I’m speechless. Thank you so much. That’s goin’ in the Smile File, for sure. I simply cannot think of a more talented, incredible group of people to be standing out in a field with. I’ll bring the coffee. And some marshmallows. Toasted mallows go really well with poetry.

    Blessed to be here, de.

  38. Domino

    Everyone, I had no idea the approval of other poets was such a heady thing. I thought I would come to this challenge, steal time from my day somehow, post, and go. Now I am feeling drawn in. I am feeling like I want to stay forever. LOL Silly, huh. And I feel the urge to read more poetry here, and comment. Steal more time from my day. How much sleep does one need, anyway?

    So thanks to Walt Wojtanik, Linda Voit, Jane Shlensky, MA Dobson (no worries, he’s long out of my life) and Jo Lightfoot, for getting me and my use of a bad word.

    So, what touched me today: Pam-Maybe I should have been a Trucker; Jerry Walraven-Maybe I’ll Learn to Tune it Out; D Gilson-Maybe Banana Bread; Connie L Peters-Balancing Act/Maybe Something New; MA Dobson- Maybe I’m Dreaming; Joseph Harker-Maybes & Might-Have-Beens; PKP-Maybe We All Hear Whippoorwills; Nikki Markle-Maybe You’ll Follow; Andrew Kreider-Wonders of the World; M Wood-Maybe I’m Invisible; Carolyn Geraci-Maybe I’ve Done my Job as a Parent. And Walt: What the heck? How many poems do you write every day?!

    ^_^ Glad to be part of the group

  39. Daniel Paicopulos

    Maybe We Could

    Talk more than we do,
    though we don’t seem to need to,
    and maybe we could
    dress more fabulously,
    though I’d still wear only dress tee-shirts,
    and maybe we could dance the night away,
    though we’d rather enjoy the view,
    and maybe we could dine out more,
    though pot roast fills us up,
    and maybe we could drive a newer car,
    though the old ones still do fine,
    and maybe we could go to parties,
    though friends at home are much more comfy,
    and maybe we could think about what we have,
    it’s way too much, really,
    and maybe we could just be happy,
    knowing that.

  40. Karen Legg

    Allright, one more real groaner and then I’ll try to be serious.

    Maybe April’s Just Not my Poetry Month

    Flowers bloom, the air so sweet,
    I’m so blue, my heart is beat.
    Maybe April’s just not my poetry month.

    Everyone’s got a song,
    I’d sing mine, but it’s all wrong.
    Maybe April’s just not my poetry month.

    Maybe April’s just the time
    When my world runs out of rhyme
    People ask why I’m so blue
    But all I do is think of you

    Shakespeare was born, but then he died.
    Baseball’s back, but not with pride.
    Maybe April’s just not my poetry month.


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