2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 18

A poet in Australia brought it to my attention that I was recently featured in an article on Jane Friedman’s There Are No Rules blog in her post “5 Innovative Poets to Watch and Learn From.” Also, a poet from Virginia brought it to my attention that one of the poems from my collection ENTER was featured on TweetSpeakPoetry.com; click here to read.


For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Like (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title to your poem, and write your poem. Some example titles might be: “Like Superman,” “Like Criminals,” “Like a Poem,” “Like Whatever,” etc.

Here’s my attempt for the day:

“Like children in the street”

We chase each other and call names until
something bigger swings around the corner.
After it passes, we collect again
in the middle and debate what our next
steps will be. Some of us make bold statements,
while others just listen. When the cars come,
we scatter. When our mothers call, we run.


Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer


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268 thoughts on “2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 18

  1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Like Anima (de la Basura)
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Every day
    we pick ourselves up off the ground,
    and brush away the soot,
    the tragedy of the day
    like Anima de la Basura.

    We go to mass and light candles
    in order to help us find
    that which is lost.
    We cry, we beg, we cut deals
    so that all can return home contento.

    And when the miracles don’t come,
    we flog ourselves in contrition and say
    it is because we are undeserving.
    God is merciful but not
    beyond teaching us painful lessons.

    However, if we are fortunate and
    a miracle happens in spite the odds,
    then we say a lost soul must have
    took pity and retrieved on our behalf,
    someone like Anima de la Basura.

    Blessed are those who still believe in us.

    © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  2. Mariel Dumas

    Like Silk

    I don’t like boys or paper planes
    Give me leather and lace
    Bring me in-fame
    Speeding down the beltway with a gun in your pocket
    Radio up
    Tilting my head up to see stars that shine too bright
    For shadow eyes
    Passengers lying skin to skin
    You said he’d swallow my soul
    But I still chase planes
    The kind that rebound quick
    A plane or car to take me away
    Forget the last book I read
    You turn left too quick too
    And quicker still the night focuses on your breath
    And planes fly high and fast
    Overhead so far we can’t see the wings
    If the road was smooth and still
    We might have gorged ourselves on the thought
    Of flight;
    Upward movement always seems to turn your eyes blue
    Still I like what you do
    When you drive fast on roads
    Like silk

  3. Doug

    Like always

    there is no direction, and my spiralled
    focus is no helix of evolution

    this is my alpha, my omega
    i am my own snake coiled
    oroburos, i eat myself
    in spooned days
    from life’s bowl

    a stir
    will only vary
    my flavour,
    you can have me
    spicy side up, grim side down

    there is only self
    for serving on sundae,
    though i may sprinkle witticisms
    to distract you from my gruel,
    perchance the gleaming crystal
    of a sugared smile

    but most days
    i just do not know
    if i should circle time
    or not

    © Douglas Pugh, April MMXI

  4. Caren E. Salas

    Like Waking from a Dream

    There are moments in our lives…

    Moments, when all those offers too good to be true,
    Become transparent;

    Moments, when the prize you have grasped in your hands
    Seems to evaporate;

    Moments, when everything you’ve believed in all your life
    Starts to fade away;

    Moments when you find yourself lingering between real and surreal,
    But you can’t tell the difference;

    Moments that feel like you’re waking from a wonderful dream,
    And you can’t go back to sleep.

  5. G. Smith

    (c) 2011 – G. Smith (BMI)
    It was just another day at work,
    I looked across the parking lot;
    The sun was shining and your smile was blinding,
    It wasn’t just the day that was hot.
    I knew I had to meet you,
    You told me later you felt the same;
    We went out that night, but it was love at first sight,
    Before I even knew your name…

    Like that – everything changed in an instant;
    Like that – my world turned upside down;
    Like that – what I thought I knew I found I didn’t;
    Like that – everything turned around… and around…

    Running downhill in a rainstorm,
    A kind-a crazy thing to do;
    Dancing and splashing, and the both of us laughing;
    I never would’ve tried without you.
    But then I went and did something stupid,
    The world’s biggest mistake, ‘n’
    You didn’t know where to start, and you knew you had a heart,
    ‘cause you said you could feel it breakin’…

    Like that – everything changed in an instant;
    Like that – my world turned upside down;
    Like that – what I thought I knew I found I didn’t;
    Like that – everything turned around… and around…

    Time rolled on – it always will,
    We went our separate ways, and still,
    I thought of you and wondered, wondered, wondered… until
    I heard your voice on the phone…

    Like that – everything changed in an instant;
    Like that – my world turned upside down;
    Like that – what I thought I knew I found I didn’t;
    Like that – everything turned around… and around…

  6. Lynn Burton

    Like Cobwebs

    It’s dark and dusty, holding old forgotten memories
    fragmented by time. Tucked away neatly at first
    for easier retrieval, and then haphazardly as if
    they’re somehow less important. And you go back
    sometimes, stepping lightly so as not to stir any
    pain that’s clung to the deepest parts of you. Even
    as you tiptoe around all the pieces, things crumble
    and fall into place. A torn up dream, a water-stained
    wish, a broken image…of you. As you sift through the
    remains, you might find something salvageable amongst
    all the cobwebs your mind has weaved.

  7. Karen H. Phillips

    Day 18
    Write a poem titled "Like ___."

    Like Eric

    The eight-year-old wants to eat rainbow sherbet,
    because Eric does.
    The boy poses with his candy cigarette
    hanging from his lip,
    because Eric does.
    He makes dangerous leaps from rock to rock,
    because Eric does.
    He dances crazy,
    because Eric does.
    He laughs and makes fun,
    because Eric does.
    Will he disbelieve,
    because Eric does?

  8. MaryAnn McCarra-Fitzpatrick

    Like Fireworks

    like fireworks that July evening
    exploding in waves, again, waves, shuddering across the skies,

    black otherwise, bereft of stars, then
    moon hidden by fog and your

    hand in mine, it seemed, for all
    eternity–ah, the scattered grey

    stones shall speak yet, the earth
    spade-riven to make a mouth

    wetly black, all-devouring

  9. M.A. Dobson

    that one bright thought can be,
    moving air extravagantly
    as perception shifts,
    accommodating blurs.
    The visual field
    contracts myopically
    as a thing barely perceived
    as winged
    addressing you assessingly,
    calling to mind
    the dream
    you dreamed repeatedly
    but forgot,
    holding the mirror up
    to the mirror that you offered it,
    giving you a glimpse
    of infinity
    before it vanishes—
    leaving you
    with the memory of
    a green you’d
    never seen before
    and at a loss
    for words

  10. Sam Nielson

    An attempt at the Big10 form.

    Like Designs In Feathers

    In the light moments before a dawn,
    When the sun stays sleepy, only winking
    One eye open, crows screech Disney witch-like,
    At each other from the safe, bare treetops
    And all brash things that move. One must wonder
    What kind of voodoo anchors itself in
    This day ahead, waiting like the crows do,
    To hammer an irritant in your head.
    I sit hesitant, torn between working
    On my bed hair, or grabbing a shotgun.

  11. Salvatore Buttaci


    Long years of solitary confinement
    he built a city stone by stone,
    a punishment for crimes against the heart.
    In his prison, left to atone,
    cautiously he laid down mosaic parts
    into stain-glass window frames––shapes
    Of color to solder back a lost life,
    a love-filled life fallen from grace.

    He had betrayed her, lost that sweet refinement
    True love brings, and he was alone,
    his punishment for crimes against the heart.
    In his prison, left to atone,
    Mentally he labored as if a work of art
    Would come of his imaginings––escapes
    From reality, something pure again,
    A remembered word, her walk, her face.

    This new life’s horrible assignment
    Admittedly was the worst he’d ever known,
    a punishment for crimes against the heart.
    In his prison, left to atone,
    Desperately he prayed for a new start,
    A cleansing of his most grievous sin––scrape
    Away the sludge choking his soul.
    Unshackle him, set him free of this place.

    Is this how one must pay for love’s defilement?
    Not even the dead would envy him!
    a punishment for crimes against the heart.
    In his prison, left to atone
    Those not so harmless trysts that cart
    A fool like him straight down to hell––quake
    In the darkness of life without love,
    A prisoner caught in a hopeless chase.

    Long years of solitary confinement
    he built this city stone by stone,
    a punishment for crimes against the heart.
    In his prison, left to atone,
    He learns how fragile is the heart,
    How without kindness it can so easily break.
    Left alone, he knows he won’t survive.
    A loveless life’s a lesson hard as stone.


  12. Yoly


    Like I could

    Sing without your notes,
    swim without your water,
    feed without your bread,

    sevenling without your numbers,
    fly without your air,
    love without your heart,

    have the faith to pass over your feast.

  13. John Pupo

    Sorry it’s a day late… had horrendous migraine last night and passed out early…

    Like a Lullaby

    something cerebral
    yet sensual

    fingers plucking
    over strings

    steadfast sensibility
    mixing emotion

  14. Claudia Coutu Radmore

    australian landscape grammar

    currawongs in the trees their soulful notes
    crickets ratchet up the hot afternoon
    the smallest of pale butterflies flutters
    in bottlebrush – crape myrtle lines city streets
    dragonflies like brilliant helicopters
    drift the bottlebrush. kangaroos litter
    local golf courses eucalypt shadows
    stretch and from treetops rainbow lorikeets
    screech and dive ibis strut in figtree shade
    black head beak and legs as punctuation

    to rest or not to rest

    the australian crow is not a crow
    but a butterfly with brown underside
    and white marks on its wings’ outer margins.
    crows are inedible. no worries mate –
    its leisurely flight to flowering plants.
    is finding yourself in a quandary
    like in a quarry, laundry, or foundry?
    wait without thought, for you are not ready
    for thought e e cummings no capitals.
    trust the roadsigns. tired? dead. just like that.

  15. Taylor Graham


    Huntingdon after the Commonwealth

    Imagine. A crowd of kings and queens,
    lords and ladies gathered in a room
    in Huntingdon, when the white flood came
    through, burying them in lime.

    Tapestries and carved cornices
    whitewashed, as all over the kingdom,
    statues and marble lace-work –
    “baubles of vanity” – become victims

    to bayonet and sword, politics
    and its religions. But not here. Veiled
    in white, these figures survived.
    Here sat the poet Cowper

    penning his verses, oblivious
    to the mute audience gathered around
    him, on walls and wainscoting
    under a thin mask of lime.

    Now imagine, on the other side
    of oceans, history and time, that image
    caught in negative: on all sides,
    past lives in all their colors, gathered

    around my self whited-out
    as I sit at the keyboard,
    tapping out lines. The still room
    waiting, listening for words.

  16. annie mcwilliams

    in a time like this

    Why is this night different
    from all others?

    Sitting on the side
    waiting for darkness
    dipping parsley in saltwater.

    This is hard light,
    everything on edge,
    plowed under by purpose.

    What we are going to do
    is share with everybody
    some things we like:

    What we are after,
    and what we invent
    is easy to understand:

    No one speaks
    our language anymore:

    There is no great danger
    in a time like this when
    so many people
    never ask why.

    In days when we have no questions
    we’ll never learn
    that we give our life for is this,
    after all, we’ve come so far.

  17. Bruce Niedt

    A day behind again – guess I was too busy basking in the glow of the sonnet contest.

    Like the Game

    August evenings on the screened-in porch,
    her father and I watched the ballgame
    on a 19-inch black-and-white TV.

    The night was close and sticky,
    relieved by an occasional puff of breeze –
    a stray mosquito would clip my ear

    We each clutched a green bottle
    of Rolling Rock beer and sat in the dark –
    the flickering gray lit our faces like ghosts

    as Schmidtty got another homer,
    Carlton blew the opponents away,
    and we, two long-suffering Phillies fans,

    finally had something to cheer about,
    as the pennant race went into overdrive
    and my adult life was just getting in gear.

    Now as I watch the game in central air
    on a big HDTV, as multi-millionaire free agents
    slide into second and make diving catches,

    as my grown sons and even my wife
    root for Howard and Halladay and Victorino,
    I think about how much the game has changed,

    and sooner or later, like her dad,
    I’ll have to give someone else the ball
    but I’m in the seventh-inning stretch

    and I still get excited.

  18. Penny Henderson


    He was sitting there stirring the fire
    like it was some ordinary day;
    as if the whole world hadn’t ended.
    See–he’d walked through that wall back in town,
    but we half thought it was all a dream.
    From out on the sea, it wasn’t clear,
    but when he called, I knew his voice.
    Like a fool, I grabbed my shirt before
    prematurely exiting the boat.
    I’d been stripped down for the fishing mess.
    But at least this Rock knew how to swim.
    His smile and, oddly, the smell of fish
    sizzling on the spit, made it all real.
    The guys caught up eventually
    and we ate and laughed and talked things out
    like there was no tomorrow coming.
    Or, now that I’ve told it all to you,
    I see it was more like instructions
    and strength for the way time marches on.

  19. Carol

    like rob

    we write our poems without
    upper case letters we
    drop commas give away periods
    trade in semi colons for dashes
    we never know where—
    em or en
    now and then we just space bar
    a few extra times even the misused
    apostrophe missing from the mix

    is it to be cool
    to write like rob mclennan
    or have we just lost our shift keys

    Carol A. Stephen
    April 18, 2011

  20. Linda Simoni-Wastila

    Like a sunflower

    My poems rise over the garden bed
    Tentative at first, a think green shoot
    Pushes through loam and survives
    The groundhog’s early wanderings
    To thicken into a sturdier cane
    With leaves that unfurl like cocktail
    Umbrellas shading the undergrowth
    Of coneflower and coreopsis
    The plant crowns majestic, a flutter
    Of golden petals streaked with rust
    And auburn, flaunting glory seen
    From roadside and the desk where I write
    And wait for the withering.
    When the summer swelter pulsates
    The night and before the dew dries
    birds cling upside down from the seed head
    filling their bellies, scattering next season’s
    seedlings and stanzas in the fall wind.

    Peace, Linda

  21. MiskMask

    I’ve reworked this one:

    Tom’s Beach, Scène Ten: A Study in Perfection – Just Like This

    Tom’s feet slipped and slid
    as he marched along the beach.
    These pebbles, he thought, did seem a lot
    like his coolest shiny steel marbles
    the ones no one could beat,

    the ones that he used to compete,
    the ones that he’d hid with that
    smelly dead squid that he’d found
    on this beach last year.
    Tom fondly looked back on that day,

    so blisteringly hot, and the tart sting
    of sea air tangling with a squidy whiff
    that wrangled its way up his nose.
    Tom eyed the two molluscs clinging
    to his shoe, and he started up singing

    a tune. They couldn’t join in ’cause Tom
    had made it all up, a new word ringing with
    each springy, crunchy step. Words from Tom’s
    tongue leapt as the molluscs harmonised
    … in the keys of C and A, of course.

    This is the way life should be, just like this,
    feet crunching rocks at the base of the cliffs,
    and so it shall be all the months of my fifths
    maybe including all the months of my sixths,
    and I’ll jolly well live out my years just like this,
    two molluscs and me, crunching our way on the beach

  22. Chimnese

    Like A Dove

    Like a dove I’ll be able
    To soar the clouds, way above
    With my wings spread out
    The soft calls from them drawn out
    Sounds like laments through the sky.
    Graceful, slender- tailed and there small heads.
    Makes them admirable, delicate.
    When they about to take flight,
    Their wings make a sharp whistling.
    As to say, “Here I go, up above the heavens.”
    Like a dove I want to fly
    Way up the open blue sky.
    Like A Dove, that’s what I want to be, free.

  23. ChapLynn

    Like Yesterday

    Tomorrow will soon be gone
    Today is moving on
    The sun will come in the morn
    But it won’t stay too long
    Noon will turn to night
    Today will put up a fight
    Yet, time is but a vapor
    Disappearing in the wind
    Just like tomorrow
    Yesterday will come again
    Every time we begin

  24. earlybird

    better late than never… (I blame the time zone!)

    (Almost) like a therapist
    She tells me what he said, she said,
    who was where and when,
    how he looked,
    how he reacted,
    how she felt,
    what she said, he said.
    I hear how they
    destroy each other.
    I hear but I try not to listen.
    I hear but I am not required to speak.
    Ear against the telephone
    I slump in a chair
    and reflect on the wreckage
    of my own life.

  25. Gretchen Gersh Whitman

    PAD 2011- April 18
    Prompt: Like blank

    Like spring

    you come to green my bed
    after a flood. White daffodil
    strewn in your hair. Wine red crocus
    stains your lip. Your sigh
    barrels down a hill of thigh like
    a new waterfall after a storm. For
    hours you are my goat-hoofed scamp
    with flute just for my ear.

    Yet you are not completely
    mine. After a sleep & kiss that
    could be a dream, when dawn hardly
    shines, you steal away to
    the stone sea of men. Only
    a shipwreck of hyacinth between
    the sheets proves you were here.

    Gretchen Gersh Whitman

  26. Tanja Cilia

    Like a Serpent

    Sliding slowly
    Slickly slip and
    Slither through life.
    Slyly staring,
    Slit-eyed at Me.
    Slimy, surreal,
    Slinking stealthily
    Spoilt and suave
    Suspicious, and smug
    Supercilious, and smarmy…
    Sylphlike, human, snake.

  27. mallora

    Like an old sock

    You’re soft, warm and cozy,
    And always so near,
    I’ve had you so long,
    You’ve somehow grown dear.

    Yes, sometimes you’re smelly
    But mostly you’re not
    And you fit me just so
    And that means a lot!

    When I’m sick, cold or tired
    I reach out for you
    And I just can’t imagine
    My life without you!

  28. A~Lotus

    Like chasing the devil

    of myself whenever I have a deadline
    to catch like some greedy fish I have to pry
    from the hooked worm and make sure the fish
    stays put in the pail. But look at how it flops and flops
    in sea sweat, its tails and fins slices air and tangles
    of seaweed and bits of algae as it eyes bulges,
    forming an “O” as wide as its mouth.
    Is it surprise or shock? Fear or ecstasy?
    Its face mirrors my own anxieties
    of worthlessness and determination.
    But with one last gulp of the silver dawn
    as before the fish goes limp, before its last thud
    against the pail, I breathe a sigh of relief:
    the deadline is met, my bills are paid,
    the devil of myself has been long gone,
    and this poem now finished with the sun
    peering over my back and reading it to the gulls.

  29. Wendy

    Like,So What

    I give up trying to understand you
    always picking fights
    anger tripping you up

    The present and the past
    are nothing alike anymore
    you’ve changed for the worst

    I’ve given you every chance
    to take back the awful words
    to withdraw your errant whip

    You nonchalantly grab my hair
    and throw me against the wall
    and break my nose

    You’ve given me countless hospital bills
    and the need to make up excuses to the family
    on why I wear sunglasses in the house

    The police come to get you
    and you cry like a baby
    begging me to bail you out

    It’ll never happen again
    you promise
    but I know it will

    You beg and say you won’t be able to live without me
    and as I walk out the door,I say
    like,so what

  30. Virginia Snowden VSBryant

    Like a Song

    Like a song, I reach every one
    Like a song, I am heard every day
    Like a song, I travel through time and space
    Like a song, I span the test of time
    Like a song, I can make you cry and make you laugh
    Like a song, I can make you fall in love or cry heartbreak’s poem
    Like a song, I am endlessly and everlasting
    Like a song, I am what I am simple, sweet, a piece of the land

  31. Marc Christopher

    Like a Circus

    The warmth
    of Summer breeze
    gave performance
    to the strawberry
    of cotton candy curls
    in trapeze style
    as the three ring capture
    of azure eyes
    and lips of kiss
    gave gymnastic tumble
    to my heart
    in dizzying style
    where laughter played
    on a parade
    of crazy clown giggles
    as she swayed
    one gaze of knowing
    towards the applause
    of my love
    found in shy rehearsal
    under the big top
    of heaven

  32. Benjamin Thomas

    Like a dripping faucet

    Like a dripping faucet
    I keep trying to hold it all in
    But there seems to be a leak
    A leak that just won’t stop
    A steady, constant pitter patter
    From one droplet to the next
    In harmonious rhythm
    The painful pitter patter
    Of every drop
    Becoming nothing
    That seems to be getting louder
    And Louder
    I’m still trying
    To hold on
    To maintain control
    And keep my composure
    I’m leaking
    And quite frankly
    It’s embarrassing
    Every droplet
    Is a part of me
    Exploding on impact
    Fading down the drain

  33. Sara McNulty

    Some Notes:
    Barbara E. – Hope your husband heals well.
    Congratulations to the Sonnet Winners!
    Thank you, Sara V.

    Some for today:

    Jerry – Like a Sunrise
    Walt – "Like Poetry, Man
    Sally J. – Like A Wild Bull On The Loose
    Dare – Like A Tornado
    Catherine Lee – A Butterfly"
    Joy Cagil – "Like An Omen
    Mike Bayles – Like A Poem
    Janice Rice C. – "Like A Giant Crayon Box

  34. Benjamin Thomas

    Like a Valley Girl

    Like, what is this?
    Like, I can’t figure this out
    Like what am I supposed to write?
    This is like, you know..

    Like…Like a what?

  35. Connie L. Peters

    I am not too alert this evening, but these are the ones that broke through the fog. Daniel Paicopulos, Shannon Lockard, Michelle Hed (Who Are You?), Michael Grove, Sally Jadlow, Elizabeth Johnson, Meg—So sorry, Catherine Lee (Like a Butterfly), Domino, Iain, Rose Anna Hines, Misk Mask (It’s Like), Kit Cooley, Banana, Linda Voit –I have written many I-can’t-write-a-poem-today poems, Kendal A. Bell, Sandra Robinson, Taylor Graham, ideurmyer

  36. Janet Rice Carnahan

    Michael Grove

    Thank you for the “Song of the Universe” shout-out yesterday! Glad it resonated with you, Michael. I liked, “Like Cain” especially, “I share in many pointless quests myself, I like you believe that it is truly futile, to leave a book inside a cover on a shelf.”


    Thank you for your juicy response to yesterday’s poem. Yes, juice is the essence! I appreciate it, Miskmask!

    Kit Cooley

    Thank you for your comment, Kit! Yes, “Harold and the Purple Crayon”! That was one of my favorite children’s books! Yes, it made me think of it too. How funny! Thanks for sharing that!

    Pearl Girl

    Yes, the positive . . . always the positive!


    Katrelya Angus

    I loved “Like a Racehorse in the Paddock”! The imagery was beautiful and so clearly written! “I stand in the wings, pawing the ground with my feet, I hear my music, my time to appear has come, all that matters, now is the dance.” This poem was just plain elegant. It had a unique style, grace and a dignity to it. I saw the horse and a person, bowing to do it all in step. Most amazing image, Katrelya! This was so lovely to read and waltz through! Great job!

    Gil Gallagher

    You know, you’re right, “Like I Never Saw This Coming.” I was a little confused, like maybe it was a heart attack and the day was spent in distraction before it happened or maybe someone leaving someone else but they had been too busy to notice. Still, it was rich with the draw in with the title, the questions and the images you portrayed. “Would you have done it differently, had you had seen it coming? It is like a freshman streaking the quad. It is like a tornado rising from an Iowa corn field. It is like a monkey hurling its excrement.” Agreed, Gil, those are surprising moments. “Had you known it would hit you like this, would you have said goodbye to him, kissed his forehead lightly or placed your innocent hand along the length of his thigh.” Or instead, “Would you have cut your toenails, worn deodorant, or would you have given yourself permission to stay in bed all day.” We get more of a clue from the ending. “It was like an epistle held close to your heart, the paper shattering to pulp with each” –“throb rising from your chest as it comes like it comes.” Whether it was a Dear John type letter or divorce papers, the effect was the same. Most interesting portrayal of an intense heart breaking moment! Good going, Gil!


    I loved your poem today! Not only was it short and sweet but it made a real point too. You asked the question, “Is it like it, or is it kind of like it, or is it what it is? So many things in this world get turned this way and that way and don’t stay just what it is. That saying, “It is what it is” is a powerful statement and not always easy to accept. “Unlike the others, it’s not what it seemed to be, it is what it is.” Like is not just the same, it is not what it is. It is what it is! Yes, Willy, I think you hit this “like” right on the head! Great job!

    Chuck Pluckett

    I enjoyed, “Like Father; Like It or Not”. I thought it was poignant, deep, meaningful and profound in terms of human exploration. Wondering how much like our parents we are and if we are different, how different are we. You had some powerful lines here, Chuck. “I have tried my best to be my own man, I am aware of many shortcomings, though infinite self-awareness is the realm of God, and mortal limits are concrete and steel, they retain and constrain and demand obedience, still I can see where I fail and fall and fulfill prophecy: the acorn falls close, genetic gravity pulls me in.” You go to describe that just knowing what we are supposed to be is not enough and that men reflect the times they live in. “It was not a time to introspect, no reflect too long, the concrete test of steel will was ‘succeed or fail”. Trying to be different can also be painful. “I have tried to pay attention, sense love and feel the world, but too often my best effort is only knowing when I do not.” Attempts to be an even better self can also feel like defeat. “I can open a door and see myself leaving across the room, but I can never catch up nor escape recognition, I aim for an end that is still bound by its beginning.” You ending was beautiful. “I am like him, and not, and I must like where life has led and left me: with some knowledge, much hope, a place where I will ever rearrange myself.”

    Tracey Davidson

    I enjoyed, “Like a Man”! Very humorous and many women would agree with you! Yes, they can complain when they just don’t feel well and even with just a cold, “He feels like ‘death warmed over’. Yet, after giving birth, and we can put pain in perspective, when they fuss over what we think isn’t much, we usually want to say something like “Try childbirth mate, then you’ll know what suffering is.” I thought this was pretty clear, Tracey! And yes, a good message too! Good going, Tracey!

    Like . . . it is bedtime! No, wait . . . it is what it is . . . and it is definitely bedtime. Ok, then you get my point! Thank you all for all you write! Like it is write on!

  37. Gerardine Baugh

    “Like a tulip”
    Its spring and I saw one.
    She had grown out of the naked soil.
    Water droplets slowly caressing
    her wide green leaves.
    Her flower head tightly closed, waiting
    to be coaxed open by the warm sun
    with promises of evermore.

  38. Michael Grove

    MY 6th EFFORT

    Like Mike

    Good Guy.
    Will Try.
    Took Hike.
    Rode Bike.
    Head Hit.
    Lamp Lit.
    Night Owl.
    Loud Howl.
    Dog Lover.
    Good Mother.
    Dad Showed.
    Mike Goed.
    Was Teacher.
    Not Preacher.
    Loves His Food.
    It’s All Good.
    Ran Faster.
    Does All He Can.
    Family Man.
    Two Great Kids.
    Dislikes Lids.
    No Wife.
    Luvin’ Life.
    Sometimes Lazy.
    A Little Crazy
    Wood Designer.
    Word Refiner.
    Well Wishing.
    Goes Fishing.
    Sports Fan.
    Frying Pan.
    Loans for Homes.
    Writing Poems.
    Needed Prod.
    Loves His God.
    Won’t Get Up Off It.
    Works for a profit.
    Another Face.
    In the Race.
    Good Friend.
    Till The End.
    Heart of Gold.
    Bought or Sold?

    By Michael Grove

  39. JSP

    Like a Leaf in a Windstorm

    Tossed to and fro
    Up high and down low
    Not reaching the sky
    No matter how hard it may try

    Floating to the ground
    As the wind dies down
    Only to be lofted again
    Before being tortured and slain

    Swirling amongst the wind and dust
    Howling wind, no gentle gust
    This leaf had but one life
    Now torn asunder by wind and strife

    Man and leaf are one, the same
    Storms toss, tear, and maim
    Small trials or great tribulation
    Storms of life end our contemplation

  40. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    My dear. Buddah if I happened to give to you an iota of the sheer joy that reading
    Just Like The Old Days…just brought to me….I am thrilled! Your poem is not only image, tribute and evocative but articulates the hardest emotion to accurately portray……love….. Now that my dear Mr. M. Is sheer pure poetry! If I could stand i’d send you a standing ovation….please accept a wave of that scepter and sash and some feet kicking applause….Kudos to you!


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