April PAD Challenge: Day 30

So this is it: the final prompt of the April PAD Challenge. We’ve made it; we’ve made it. I’d be sad that it’s all over, but I think in some ways we’re only beginning. (For more on that, check back tomorrow when I do the April PAD Challenge Wrap-Up.) Today, I want you to finish your poem, thrust your open hands high in the air, and say, “Go me! I did it!” (Or something to that effect, I understand that poets can be a reserved bunch–so maybe a simple smirk and fist clench will do the job just as well.)

The main thing is to realize that you accomplished something great in participating throughout the month. After all, you should now have 30 (or more) poems to play with and revise. But here I am trying to stall on the final prompt of the day–not wanting this month to end. 🙂

And today’s prompt is probably predictable if you go back to Day 1’s prompt, which was about beginnings and firsts. Day 30’s prompt is to write a poem about endings, finishes, finales, etc. Because we’ve reached the end: great job!

Here’s my poem for the day:

“Saturday night in Clifton”

After an evening of perspiration and
secondhand smoke inhalation, the lights turn on
as men with SECURITY written across their
backs herd us out into the street. We’re pumped up;
we still want more (encore! encore!); but the planet
continues its mad spin. So I twist myself out
of the loitering mob and sneak down a side street–
head buzzing with the crush of mosh pit memories,
the push and pull of sweaty strangers united
for music adoration. For a moment, I
feel everything is possible, but then an
overwhelming sadness washes over me: the
vacuum between then and now. I walk until I
come to a sign that reads: KEEP MOVING. So I do.

 

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209 thoughts on “April PAD Challenge: Day 30

  1. Ian Phillips

    I always want more

    By Ian Phillips

    I always want more
    I want a space between now and the ending
    I want pauses before the credits to absorb what I have seen
    I want extra time before the final whistle blows
    I don’t want the bill, I want the starter again
    I want to be handed the menu.
    I want my choices again.
    I want to keep the engine running
    as my destination approaches,
    I don’t want the song to complete
    it’s final fading chords,
    I don’t want to turn that final page
    And feel words concluding, ending
    before turning to white.

  2. Lori

    I was reading through each day to be sure I didn’t miss one, and realized I made a mistake in the one posted above. here is the repost, with corrections:

    "All good things must come to an end"

    Pleasure is in the moments and the breath of
    babies and the glimpse of sun on the water,
    reflecting more than just what is seen but
    what is perceived and what is experienced.
    It’s in the memories captured as they happen,
    sitting by the fire laughing, sharing time
    with friends and family, singing off key with
    heads bent together and eyes lit up, loving
    more than can be expressed and hoping they
    understand how much they mean to you.
    It’s recognizing that perfect song at the perfect
    time, with the perfect person to share it with
    and knowing it will never be quite like this again.

    Pain wouldn’t be so painful if we didn’t
    perceive the pleasure. It’s in the goodbyes,
    the endings, the farewells, the growing apart
    or away or just not growing at all. The goodbyes
    that you try so hard to pretend are not just around
    the corner, a shadow of darkness in the perfection,
    a bringer of gloom in the midst of sunshine. Farewell,
    sometimes there is no chance to say it, sometimes it’s
    just the end. No more. Goodbye, your heart whispers
    but there are no words to say. And you remember those
    picture perfect moments so carefully stored away inside
    and for just a second, eyes closed, half smile on your face
    you remember. You remember and the sun breaks through.

  3. Karen

    4-30-08

    No Endings

    In two days she’ll wave
    heart in throat
    and walk with her companions
    to board a jet.

    A few days ago
    I sent my daughter a photo-text.
    The picture was of a piece of jewelry.
    A delicate detailed rose,
    shades of peach,
    tiny stem with detailed leaves.

    I wrote:
    I meant 2 show u the ring i m wearing 2day.
    Bought this native-made mosaic gold ring
    on ponte vecchio-vecchio bridge-in florence italy
    35 years ago-when i was 21.
    Now its ur turn!

    Our daughter is 21 and Italy-bound
    and what was beautiful and wondrous for me
    all those years ago had to end
    but it really didn’t
    because it helped mold the mother
    who reared the daughter
    who will drink in the same delights
    and more.

    So nothing we do ever ends
    does it?

  4. Anahbird

    On the End Begins…

    Round
    And round
    And round
    Again.
    Up
    Is down
    And right
    Is in.
    The end
    Circles by
    Never-ending
    Never-die.
    Round
    And round
    And round
    Begins.
    Start is finish.
    Finish is open.

  5. Jay Sizemore

    At the end

    I’m not going to change my mind,
    I’m not going to suddenly realize
    that my whole concept
    of reality was wrong.

    I’m not going to let fear
    get the best of me.
    I’m not going to feel
    the need
    to repent for sins
    I never believed in.

    I am afraid to die
    just like everyone else.
    But I am not afraid
    of accepting my fate.

    Sorry if this disappoints you.

  6. Judy Roney

    The End

    I write a poem because my mind, hands, and
    spirit alert me that it must be done.

    I struggle through, try and try again until I get
    something that resembles what I want to say.

    Then I take a line or two of what is just right
    and start the process over again.

    I always sign my name at the end and date it.
    No sweeter way to end another poem. A way
    to honor me for sticking to it.

  7. Susan Reichert

    ENDINGS

    There are endings everywhere
    endings of the day, of a job,
    of relationships. Endings of
    books, papers drafts and
    comics. Endings of shows
    and plays and endings to
    meals and trips. Endings
    of vacations and visits.
    With beginnings you will
    most always have endings.
    And this poem is no
    exception. The End.

    Susan
    April 30
    Day 30

  8. Linda Hofke

    Wow! These poem are great and I am not surprised because ya’ll can really write! In fact, I wanted to write about this challenge, how it is a stepping stone for me (even if it is not the direction I hope to follow I thought it might jog the brain for a bit of creativity), how it was not just about learning to write poetry but about learning discipline and in the end meeting new people,snakes on the run, cats in the fridge….and, of course, the beauty of words But I just couldn’t come up with anything that sounded right. I just kept thinking about orange tulips. So, here it is.

    Lovely Orange Tulips

    He planted, weeded, and tended
    To make the garden splendid,
    An opulent array
    Of vibrant colors on display–
    Yellow daffodils standing tall,
    Blue morning glory climbs by the wall,
    Pink roses on the trellis,
    (How they made the neighbor jealous),
    Just a touch of columbine
    And the tulips so divine.
    Yes, the orange tulips he adored,
    (And he went overboard)
    Planting more and more each year,
    And I’d laugh when I would hear
    Him say his little quip
    ‘Bout how he loved my two lips
    And would give me more than two,
    "To show my love for you"
    He’d say with a grin,
    And every time I’d melt within
    ‘Cause I knew his love was rooted deep,
    With weeding and tending our love would keep
    Growing and blooming every Spring.
    But life isn’t a certain thing.
    God replanted him way up high
    In His garden in the sky.
    Yet each Spring he says hello
    When the orange tulips grow,
    And to him I reply
    That our love will never die.
    It will live forever more
    Till I am at heavens door
    And with me I will bring
    Orange tulips under wing
    To my love so true
    And we’ll plant our love anew.

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