April PAD Challenge: Day 13

Wow! Yesterday was quite a workout. Not only did I go for a hard 5-mile run, but I think we did about a million Easter egg hunts (give or take a few hundred thousand). Anyway, I’m not sure if I’m “feeling it” today, in terms of writing a poem. But that’s what makes a challenge a challenge is to get up and write regardless. Doing so puts me in a position to be ready to write when I am “feeling it.”

For today’s prompt, I want you to write a poem that incorporates a hobby (either yours or someone else’s). That’s right: Now is the perfect opportunity to write about your comic collection or your scrapbooking activities. And for the purposes of this challenge, I also think activities such as fishing, running, bowling, photography, birding, and gardening count as hobbies.

Here’s my attempt for the day:

“We wake up in the morning”

while the grass is still wet with dew,
and we all launch our drivers–
some ending up on the fairway,
others in the rough. Then, we pick
up our discs and throw again
and again. We aim for the chains
we want to rattle. We ramble
on about near misses and how we’re
kicking butt or getting our butts kicked.
Eventually, we finish the first course

and drive on to the next. By now,
the morning is warming, and we’re
hitting our targets. Eagle, Stingray,
Beast, Aviar–our brightly colored
discs fly through the air. Some of us
under par; others over. Finally, we stop
for lunch. We talk about the day, how
we need to do this more often. Then,

we drive on to the next course. Repeat
the cycle. And then the next course. And
finally, we get to the fifth and final
challenge of the day. We line up behind
the tee pad as the sun slants westward.
We squint, wind up, and let our discs fly.
Some of us wear out during this last course–
our discs not traveling as far, not hitting
their marks. But there’s always one
who digs deeper, though just as tired,
and drives from basket to basket, trying
hard as possible to beat the evening.


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819 thoughts on “April PAD Challenge: Day 13

  1. JL Smither

    Papa’s Hobby

    He played solitaire every night,
    a few hands, no matter who was visiting.
    I once asked mom if he ever won, and she said
    he cheated sometimes, since it was just him.
    But after his funeral, my brother mentioned it
    as a funny memory, and Mom puffed
    up in angry denial, and I was glad
    he said it and not me.

  2. yolanda davis-overstreet

    Day 13


    Out or in – doors
    Sounds of motions
    Wheels spinning
    training sessions to build endurance
    Gearing up to be set free
    To roll
    On my road bike.

  3. David H. Snell

    Picture This

    The skate is posed perfectly—its white, pink, and aqua front flattened
    against the glass enclosure at the aquarium in Newport, Oregon. The face
    could pass for ET’s cousin, the lower part
    like a lavender five-o’clock shadow,
    the wide, thin mouth suggesting a smile. The woman plays
    “Patty-Cake” with the baby’s hands.
    Their eyes and mutual delight are locked into
    holy communion. Generations between them
    melt away. The man sits in his father’s boat
    in Tampa Bay. His face has absorbed much sunlight
    and sports a smile and wrinkles on the edge
    of aging. He looks into the camera, the habitual nonchalance of a cigarette
    in his hand. The initials on his bicep do not
    stand for “Free the Whales.” The girl stands straight,
    silhouetted at the water’s edge. She holds a bouquet
    of picked flowers. Twilight diamonds glint
    off the wavy glaze.

    If you take enough photos, some will turn out

  4. Tony Walker

    April 13th prompt: A hobby
    “Major League”
    Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, and Nap Lajoie
    Satchel Paige, Ted Williams and shoeless Joe
    Ty Cobb, Willie Mays, and Joe DiMaggio
    All of them are winners
    Names that we all know
    But Honus Wagner is the king
    Of baseball card dough

  5. Lauri Land

    I tried to create a cross-stitch
    but I couldn’t match the look.
    I tried to construct a furry rug
    but couldn’t work the hook.
    I tried to play a chess game
    but his queen just stole my rook.
    I tried to make a casserole
    and learned I shouldn’t cook.
    I’ve tried creative hobbies
    the result is gobbledygook.
    I think I’ll curl up on the couch
    with some wine and a juicy book.

  6. Tom Smith

    Leo Changes Hobbies

    Leo used to love to fish
    He would set in his kayak on the waters surface all day
    And with the patience of a saint
    He would lure his prey into capture
    One baited hook at a time
    He relished the game
    The strategy
    The victory

    Leo took up scuba diving to make him a better fisherman
    but after his first dive
    After he had descended 30 feet to the sandy ocean floor
    And he looked up to see a school of fish
    Shimmering as they swam through the sun’s rays filtered through water
    And then a large orange and black California Sheep Head
    Swam up to his mask, looked him in the eyes for a long time, and then swam away
    That’s when Leo changed hobbies

  7. Lissa

    Texas bluebonnets
    bring out the shutterbugs,
    a flop-hatted field
    hunching over lenses pointed down.

    Pulling away,
    I find a crop of Indian blankets
    tucked under an abandoned cabin
    reflected by a scrap of corrugated roofing,
    a perfect black box display
    and time to soak in the wind.

  8. Linda H.

    A silly limerick for children.

    Ant Farm

    There once was a man from France
    Whose hobby was collecting ants.
    One night while he slept,
    Out they all crept,
    And he awoke doing a dance.

  9. Amanda Caldwell

    Flashbulb memory

    We have no memories without pictures,
    he said. It has to be on our blog
    for it to have happened.
    So we bring it everywhere,
    a pound or so of camera
    that doesn’t tuck into a pocket
    or even a bag that easily.
    But it’s worth the schlep
    for the moments preserved.
    Our extra memory card,
    carried along by the strap,
    a substitute brain.

  10. Ivy Merwine

    Books surround me on my tabletops and piled on my floor.
    They are my muse, my inspiration, my joy, my life.
    I love to lose myself in their pages.
    I delight in their secrets and confide mine in some of them.
    Those dearest to me sit in a place of honor.
    Those not-so-dearest get stuffed up under couches and chairs.
    Some are my friends and some are my enemies.
    I laugh with some and cry with others.
    Book collecting started out as a hobby and became my life.

  11. Alyssa Watson

    Frozen in Time

    A quiet click
    A misty day
    One silent shot
    And I’m away

    My fingers curl
    Hair skims the ground
    I sniff the rose
    Spirits rebound

    A silver flash
    Met in the dark
    A horned owl’s eyes
    Kindle a spark

    Lie on my bed
    With fingers spread
    I seek the one
    And bound ahead

    The shot I stole
    A brilliant rhyme
    Call of the wild
    Frozen in time

  12. Amy Gunn


    My fingers are cracked and
    My forearms starting to go numb,
    But I can’t stop now;
    Now when I’m finally starting
    To see my project take shape.
    The yarn weaves around my needles,
    Stretching and twisting.

    I can no longer appreciate
    How soft the fibers are.
    I can no longer appreciate
    The beautiful color I’ve chosen.
    I can no longer appreciate
    How great it will be to wear it,

    But I still can’t bring myself
    To stop knitting.

  13. Oscar C. Pena

    What am I going to do?

    Never did like collecting
    stamps, antiques, comics
    art or baseball cards

    Always too busy writing
    in a journal, poetry, and essays,
    playing sax; rehearsing
    for a concert or a gig

    But now retired
    there’s nothing for me
    to do

    Don’t like golf, fishing, hunting,
    Harleys or knitting
    guess it’s time for me to get
    a hobby to waste time on

  14. Stacey Cornwell

    Finding the perfect book
    Is much like a treasure hunt
    For ancient buried gold
    Or a long ago sunken ship

    To find that one book
    That captures your imagination
    And takes you off to other world
    I believe is more priceless

    For with that book in hand
    I can go anywhere
    And be anything
    Within its mysterious pages

    A princess perhaps
    In a castle in Ireland or England
    Or a lady knight in some fantasy
    Where nothing is beyond me

    Sometimes the world in a book
    Is much better than reality
    It makes everyday more exciting
    As you rush home to read
    A tale that is far beyond this world

  15. scott Owens


    This is what we do to survive,
    teach girls and boys the use
    of the comma, value of enthymemes,
    how to force inspiration,

    then drive back roads
    like Richard Hugo to homes we know
    we don’t own, sleep with our wives,
    raise children, gain weight.

    We go the Y under doctor’s
    orders, watch what we eat,
    take our medicine, lie down
    in the beds we’ve made.

    We talk about the weather, stare
    into the sky, put on pretense
    of normalcy, accept the offered check,
    the pat on the back, eternal promise

    of better days. Meanwhile, the poems
    growl inside us, grow second heads,
    quietly gnaw at the unexpressed.

  16. Joan Huffman


    An accidental nick,
    A tentative prick,
    Secretive slits,
    Habitual cutting,
    craving deliverance.

    Joan Huffman © 04/13/2009

  17. Lytton Bell

    Collecting Teapots

    Other than reading and writing
    I’ve only ever had one hobby
    For two years in my late twenties
    I began collecting teapots
    Looking back on the experience now, it seems absurd
    What is interesting about teapots?

    When I look at collectors now, I feel
    a great sadness nestle down into my bones
    They are clearly compensating for something
    that is missing in their lives
    And one thing collecting teapots taught me
    is that you cannot fill an emotional void with STUFF

    Possessions are a source of evil in our lives
    They rob us of money and space
    They can become an addiction, robbing us of liberty
    Jesus said, sell all your possessions
    and give them to the poor
    so why doesn’t anyone listen to Jesus?

    I loved their different shapes:
    some were animals, some buildings
    I loved the stories behind the antique ones
    I loved their little fitted lids, their matching cups
    I loved owning them, lining them up for display
    explaining them all to every hapless visitor

    Until I realized what I was doing
    My marriage was miserable and falling apart
    I had no children, no career, my health was failing
    and the only thing that gave me any joy –
    but it wasn’t even joy – it was distraction –
    was my teapots

    Today when I see a beautiful teapot
    I do not feel the old pang
    I do not yearn to touch it, burn to own it
    I regard it with suspicion; it wants something from me
    I feel it assessing my glossy surface
    for any sign of a crack


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