April PAD Challenge: Day 2

Wow! Y’all came through in a big way yesterday. I’m so pleased that I nearly had a heart attack coming in this morning and seeing the response. Woo-hoo!

Before I get into the prompt, I wanted to address a few questions that came up yesterday. First off, yes, you can add your poem after midnight of the day of the prompt. That means you can play “catch up” later in the month if you ever fall behind. Thinking long term, all poems should be in by the first weekend of May at least.

Second, I don’t care if you post previous poems if they align with the challenge, but just remember: That kind of defeats the purpose of this challenge, since we’re concerned with writing new material. As we would say in track practice, “You’ll only be cheating yourself.”

Third, poems should be posted in the Comments here. If you try multiple times and still have problems posting, feel free to email your poem to me (robert.brewer@fwpubs.com) with “Poetry Prompt Response” in the subject line–along with which prompt (by number) it goes with and your name. Then, I’ll paste those into the comments myself.


Okay, then. So here we go with Prompt #2: Put yourself in someone (or something) else’s skin and write a poem about the experience. Who (or what) ever you become, please make that the title of the poem. If you’re Buddy Holly, your poem should be called “Buddy Holly.” If you’re the Bates Motel, your poem should be called “Bates Motel.” And so on.

Think hard on this one. My first attempt did not work out as well as I thought it might (imagining I was Dolly Parton). However, I think I’m good with my second subject, which is…


I was raised by whales–
maybe why I hide under water;
that and the fact those people always–
and I mean always
shoot stuff at me.

Bad enough I’m constantly catching their little buildings–
awkward as they are–
between my toes,
but when I try to speak,
when I try to say,
“I just want to get along,”
all that comes out is my mother tongue,
straight up whale,
contrary to popular belief,
sounds terrifying out of water.

For instance,
I love you becomes,


For another example and an even better Godzilla poem, check out this one by Aaron Belz. (If I’d known this existed earlier, I would’ve written a King Kong poem.) 😉


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256 thoughts on “April PAD Challenge: Day 2

  1. Christy Yi


    Started out in the soul of a man.
    Pumped through his blood, jerking muscles
    and a bobbing head heralded my coming.
    He slapped his knee in time, and
    Out I came!
    Slipped past lips that smelled of beer.
    He smiles at my sound. Invisible but,
    He knows I’m there.
    Fell down toward the floor, captured
    just in time by some machine.
    Editing, copying, wrapped in plastic now.
    Popped me into a stereo?
    Here I come!
    Surge of electricity, swimming through copper
    at the speed of light. Are you ready for me?
    Shot through your speakers, a little bit louder than
    his lips.
    Flew over to where you were standing. Sat in your ear.
    "How do you like me?"

  2. Caili Wilk


    i am everywhere
    your mind will wander

    i brighten
    till you think i’m gone

    yet i never disappear
    not even when i look clear

    even my blackest face
    is woven
    with blue and mauve
    and past the grey i will smatter
    you with
    silver light

    look at me
    when i am white
    so rich
    so cold
    so yellow
    than wrinkles
    they is no escaping me

    i am here when you sleep
    in the clouds
    or shadows
    i am never far
    look for me resting in your fingertips
    or the sighs of love from your heart

    your temperature rises when
    i flush
    your cheeks
    and the scent of sky shining
    from your eyes
    is all mine

    just as the ribbons of wind colour the day
    i am living
    and in
    my breath flows a thousand

    i am everywhere
    your mind will wander

    i am so much more than you can see
    or name
    more than your words
    or shades

    i am colour
    i belong to no-one

  3. S.E. Ingraham


    If I were in the shoes of a stand-up comedian
    I’ve often wondered what that might be like
    It would depend largely I suppose
    On just how good I was, i.e. funny
    Or perhaps, how inebriated my audience was, i.e. drunk
    Or became, i.e. funny or drunk, as the act wore on
    On any given night

    Still, I picture myself on Just for Laughs
    Waiting in the wings, off stage left
    All sweaty-palms and nervous energy
    Reviewing material mentally, over and over
    It wouldn’t even matter if it was
    stuff I’d rehearsed to death
    Material I’d written myself
    Tried out on friends and family
    Who had almost puked, and assured me
    They were near-hurling with laughter,
    it was that funny

    No – there I would be,
    raring to go on stage
    And then, right then,
    everything I was about to say
    Would seem inane,
    Unfunny, too silly,
    not up-to-date enough,
    not profane enough
    Too profane,
    not profound enough,
    too intellectual for words
    Omigod – what was I thinking
    It is a packed house;
    they are calling my name?

    Please, please –
    just don’t let me fall down
    Or forget the jokes, or –
    What if nobody
    Nobody – laughs?
    What’s the worst thing
    that could happen
    I wonder, to a new comic?
    To any comedian?
    Is it to bomb?
    To be heckled unmercifully?
    I heard just yesterday that,
    a long-time
    Well-known, renowned actually,
    stand-up guy,
    a really hilarious guy
    one who had
    won awards
    and everything,
    this guy,
    he killed himself last weekend.
    What’s with that, I wonder
    Didn’t he find himself funny?
    Probably not.
    I hear comedians use
    humour to defuse
    their pain or something.
    Maybe it’s not all
    it’s cracked up to be
    What does that mean, anyhow?
    All it’s cracked up to be?
    Aren’t things that are cracked
    on the way to being broken?
    Or, conversely,
    they could be on the way
    to being fixed, I guess
    Oh, will you listen to me
    If I am going to
    approach even clichés
    from such a philosophical stance
    Wouldn’t that negate
    any chance of being
    a successful
    stand up comedian?
    Or is it, comedienne,
    given that I’m of the
    distaff side?
    I guess I could always try
    for being one of those
    fuzzy, obscure types
    like Steven Wright?
    Who isn’t funny
    unless you wait a beat
    and really think about
    what he’s saying
    Yeah, I guess maybe
    I could do that
    Or not
    I hope old SW doesn’t have
    any suicidal tendencies.


  4. Maureen


    I am the ocean
    beating the shores of my prison
    foaming at the mouth
    throwing salt at the sky
    then guided as always by the moon
    I recede
    calm, demure
    bask in the sun
    resting myself.
    I know I am beautiful
    I see myself reflected in the sky
    but I am ill
    poisoned by the humans
    I must prepare
    for my revenge!

     Maureen Sexton

  5. mjdills

    I’m catching up since I started on Day 12. Hope that’s okay. Thanks.


    Where’s my food dish?
    Where’s my leash?
    Where’s the person who takes me for a walk?
    Who is she anyway?
    She says I’ve known her for eight years
    But she makes it hard,
    She keeps buying new shoes.
    Where’s my food dish?
    Where’s my toy?
    Where’s my chew stick?
    Where’s the little girl who always drops her cheerios?
    Who is she anyway?
    She came from out of nowhere and she keeps getting bigger.
    Where’s my food dish?
    Where’s the rug I like to curl up on?
    Where’s my food dish?


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