Editors Blog

November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 11

Today is 11/11. What a mathematical day! (As some of you know, Tammy and I were married on 08/08/08 at 8:08–so I don’t take numbers for granted.)


I also don’t take these prompts for granted. For instance, today’s prompt is to write a deep thought or observational poem related to your theme. The poem can be long and persuasive–or short and profound. Think about your theme. And then, think about your theme some more. And some more–until you find some deep thought or make an observation that others may or may not have considered.


“Where did all the monsters go?”


In the movies, the monsters, whether King Kong or
the Phantom, always chase after the pretty girls,
which makes me wonder if loneliness is really
so strong as to turn both man and beast against the
happiness and beauty of this world forever.


 

You might also like:

  • No Related Posts

72 thoughts on “November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 11

  1. Lynne

    If the Shoe Fits

    Shoppers trample a worker
    to death on Black Friday,
    terrorists wreak another
    horrific massacre, this time
    in India, people shout out
    "drill baby drill," polar bears
    drown, children starve
    while billionaire ceo’s steal
    government money, our money,
    buy private jets, mansions, and
    luxuries nearly incomprehensible.

    Meanwhile, honeybee populations
    decrease, big corporations pour
    poisons and filth into our rivers
    and oceans, rain forests are in
    grave danger, wildlife populations
    diminish, some to the point of
    extinction, our air is foul.

    We poison our earth just as
    we annihilate dandelions,
    yet the real weeds walk among us.

  2. Taylor Graham

    WHERE HAS LUCKY GONE?

    The tabby without claws has disappeared.
    Doesn’t he like your new house
    with a cozy basket on the Woodsman hearth?

    Is he making his way by instinct,
    by stars he never learned to know, back
    to the place he first called home?

    Indoor cats don’t give their nine lives up
    to the hazard to dogs and traffic,
    to owl talon and coyote jaw. To hunger.

    Is home the four safe walls
    you woke up to, this morning, or your hope
    of a lucky promise for tomorrow?

  3. Terri Vega

    Day 11:

    I remember falling from my mother’s
    drying body
    to the ground. The earth was warmed by
    summer’s light.

    Laying on the soil nature had its
    way with me
    and covered my shell with earthly
    debris

    The world around me became dark I
    felt winter’s breath
    gliding its ice above me as I
    hid swaddled in the dirt

    Warmth began to permeate
    my inner being
    I wanted to live and to grow and I
    unfurled the life within me

    A tender sprout of green rose
    up and into day’s light
    I grew tall and strong – a beautiful flower –
    in my prime

    As days grew shorter I felt myself
    weaken
    Knowing my days were approaching end I
    released my seed and mothered my own
    life.

  4. Tyger

    I Have Waited So Long

    I have waited so long
    for this change
    that in my heart hides
    a primal scream
    Like a bow wound too tightly
    I want to snap
    We now have one season
    one term
    One opportunity
    to prove we can do it right
    What if we fail?
    I am like a swimmer who
    with rescue near
    throws her arms up in gratitude
    whereupon she promptly drowns

  5. Jolanta Laurinaitis

    Sunning herself on stone
    Elegent and sleek
    Stretching her wings
    Ever so slightly
    To flaunt the glitter
    Of the sun and her colours
    Mixing for breathtaking
    Vanity.
    Two beauties,
    Adderbolt and Gaia
    Vain and bragging
    Shamelessly about their
    Bodies.

    Where is the beauty now?

  6. Monica Martin

    (and now, deep thoughts…)

    As we move in together,
    we are conscious of
    the struggles we face,
    yet we are confident enough
    to believe we can make it work.

  7. Rodney C. Walmer

    Thank you Michelle. I feel so bad, I have been sooo busy, I can’t keep up. I honestly thought I was so far behind that no one was even reading my work.

    Here is my poem for today. Sorry it’s so late.

     Same Day, Different Tune

    She sits at the window
    day after day
    watching the same cars pass
    Does she know
    If, so, what could she say
    what could she ask

    To her,
    is one day different then the next
    does the blur
    of the days passing
    leave her perplexed

    Does she somehow hope
    of surpassing
    what’s been before
    or does she cope
    by simply dreaming of
    what’s on the other side of that door. . .

    ©Rodney C. Walmer 11/13/08 Observational poem about my dog.

  8. lynn rose

    " After all this time "
    I never would of thought this 26 years ago,
    that I would just leave without really
    knowing why. Yes, I don’t love you anymore, an
    I haven’t for a very long time. You just let
    me leave. Without trying to make me stay.
    I thought you would of least cared one more time.
    I know I hurt you in so many, many ways. I don’t
    really know why. I just had no more love to give. It
    just left me along with all my emotions and feelings.
    I never would of expected this, the way I use to care,
    I loved you without even thinking, with every breath
    I took you were there. How does something like this
    happen and where does it go. I have so many questions
    that can not be answered. You are gone now, we are apart.
    But there will always be a place for you in my heart.
    goodbye now, and have a great life, I hope you find the
    love you want and have a new wife.

  9. Iris Deurmyer

    Absent

    Only when your gone do we think of you
    You are ignored til needed
    Then panic sets in and everyone begins
    Running here and there
    Searching for you in any available spot
    Til his last breath man obsesses
    And if he can’t find you he dies
    Crying your name as he finally cherishes you
    Water, Water, water…

  10. Kateri Woody

    Joker Prose Poem (I am lacking titles this month.. oops)

    He can cry too, you know. He can do more than just hate and laugh and kill. Haunted green eyes fall still from their roving, their information collecting and collect saline tears instead. A pathetic mockery of sea water pools into little microcosms that slide down his angular face, his misery a star fish washed into an enclosure and left to feed only on itself. He cries for lost time, for lost memories that he doesn’t know he had, washed in and up to his consciousness from that black pit behind his childhood aspirations leaving him gasping for breath like he’s been socked in the gut by Billy Borstine again – the class bully in fourth grade he forgot existed until he had the time to collect the pieces of himself over a deflated rubber chicken. Toxic emotions ooze from his face and drip off his chin, expression distraught and taut in a schooled way that he taught himself never to look… He can do more than exist to be the foil to a broken man dressed like a bat. He can, he can. Just like Tinkerbell can exist just by the belief that she does.

  11. k weber

    Aloud

    You with
    your Michigan:
    you left
    cars unrented
    and slept in
    stereo; woke
    to find
    your voice
    recorded

    Met you
    in the middle
    of a night, unseen
    but imagined
    forgiving
    and the harbinger
    of anxiety

    Long distance
    you find yourself
    lost in swells
    of people,
    the mail
    piles taller
    but you
    with your fore-
    sight put all
    these things
    in a song

  12. Nancy Posey

    I should have attributed my title:
    “Memory is insubstantial. Things keep
    replacing it. Your batch of snapshots will
    both fix and ruin your memory. . . . You can’t
    remember anything from your trip except
    the wretched collection of snapshots.”
    Annie Dillard, “To Fashion a Text,” 1988

  13. Billy Angel

    When My Parents Argued

    I ran out
    into the cold

    night, hid
    behind the house,

    listened to
    the dark under

    muted stars.
    Thoughts cleared

    in sobs
    of visible breath.

  14. Iain D. Kemp

    Unfortunately Ringo doesn’t really do "Deep", so this is as good as it gets….

    Dear Moosehead,

    I do not resign, I do not lay
    down my sword. Instead I
    renew my vigour. I may well
    call a truce on those women folk
    of yours, if they will but do the
    same. I am perplexed. Another
    man in the home might, you’d think
    add courage to my cause but how
    am I to feel when Greek Jimmy,
    my cousin from Atlanta, appears
    on my doorstep, dressed in red and
    white shouting: GO BRAVES!
    SOB! I shoulda kicked his ass down
    the stairs and into the street. Sure,
    he’s family (sorta) but we must all
    rally together at this time of crisis
    and make his Brave lovin’ ass as
    miserable as is humanly possible.
    I know I can count on you… better
    tell your cousin to stay away for a
    while. That Greek is a real Fox for the
    ladies. Pick us up at seven will ya?

    Yours in profound shock

    Ringo the Howler

  15. Iain D. Kemp

    Sorry I’m late with this, I had migraine yesterday. Still at least it’ll be posted on the correct date…

    At the elenth hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month….lest we forget…

    Cats, Poetry & Death #14

    Armistice Day

    In Flanders fields there were no Cats
    Upon the Somme they stalked no rats
    Only blood and poppies bloomed
    Only men and boys were doomed

    McCrae and Owens words so proud
    Lay covered with Death’s dark shroud
    Millions of corpses lie beneath them
    For reasons known to better men

    A war to end all wars they said
    And ever more to honour the dead
    At this Eleventh hour on this Eleventh day
    At memorials across the land we pray

    Never again echo the prayers of men
    But wars are fought time and again
    Against our nature, against our will
    For Heavens sake, we fight one still!

    No, no felines came to offer muse
    In a war that surely all would lose
    As Wilfred Owens gave his last breath
    No Cats, just Poetry and Death

    Iain

  16. PSC in CT

    Wow! I am SO close to being caught up that I have finally taken some time to read (this day’s entries anyway)! I only just completed my first draft for the 11th — but Robert hasn’t put out the prompt for the 12th yet, either — so it’s all good.

    There are so many good ones, I can’t hit them all, but wanted to comment on a few:

    Bruce – Loved the thought behind the Savage Breast poem — especially the last stanza.
    Judy R — Your poems capture so very well the myriad of emotions — and physical impacts — of such a tragedy. I am so sorry for your loss. Keep writing — it really does help.
    Nancy P. — I really liked your memory poem — it describes SO WELL my own feelings & experiences on the topic. I also enjoyed Phenomenon (I think there IS a name for it — but my memory is insubstantial! 😉 )
    Shann P — The contrast between desire and duty (piano and meatloaf — very nice!
    Juanita/Spidey — Your reinterpreted fairy tales were very well done!
    Heather — your lesson #11 — so true! (My mother always said, "Be careful what you wish for.")
    Rachel G — Your ghosts and tea — I like it! — reminded me of a friend who swears she’s had similar experiences.
    Kate B — Your sphinx’s riddles — very interesting!

    Thanks everyone for some enjoyable & thought provoking reads. It was nice to actually get to do this and I hope (if I can avoid falling behind!) to get back to do the same for days 1 – 10 — maybe?!) Thanks again!

  17. Don Swearingen

    Veteran’s day today. Low fog and then it’s sunny.
    Much will be said today, but only a mote
    Said by politicians, dripping with honey
    Will mean anything but, "I want your vote".
    The memories of times apart
    When we wanted to be together.
    The memories of my bursting heart
    When you were there, a feather
    Flying about in abandon and joy.
    Now, the dreary time without you
    Grows long. I try every ploy
    To keep my mind away, but the only way that I can cope
    Is waiting out the time and holding on to hope.

  18. Spidey

    fairy tales
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    in my world
    Rapunzel is a cold calculating beauty,
    a Lilith with mesmerizing eyes capable
    of causing young virile men to scale
    sheer castle walls like a pack of dogs,
    driven by a secret hidden scent,
    her vampire teeth at the ready.

    in my world
    Cinderella is not so forgiving
    in her slippers of polished glass,
    while behind her a bewildered Prince
    slicks back his hair with
    womanizing hands that
    beg to be taken back.

    in my world
    Snow White is a jezebel
    with motives as transparent as
    a spider trapped in amber,
    locked inside a battle of wills
    ‘gainst a stepmother raising daughters
    in a harsh, patriarchal world.

    in my world
    Sleeping Beauty is a fading beauty
    queen, afraid of growing old alone
    ready to settle, feigning sleep,
    awaiting rescue by Prince or Pauper,
    white horse or abandoned car,
    open or closed fist.

    in my world
    Ariel is a bedsore street junkie
    on a dirty mattress five flights up,
    her once stunning mermaid tail now
    covered in roaches and vomit,
    trying to forget why she ran
    away from home in the first place.

    in my world
    Mulan and Jasmine met a conference and
    fell madly in love, leaning heavily on vows
    they took seriously together years ago,
    in the face of jaded family & jilted friends,
    convinced that fairytale endings never
    happen once upon anyone’s dream.

  19. kate

    Nothing momentous

    Moment to moment
    her rage at having to shower first,
    the cicada that flew in
    while I listened to him read
    how the kids squealed ran to the couch
    while it bumped out of control
    about the room, I told him
    to grab a towel and throw it
    over the bug, the calm
    and the magical buzzing hum
    when his hand hovered over it.
    He threw the bug and towel outside
    and slammed the door.
    The little notes she writes now she can
    to mume I love you, you love me
    to mume I love you but not when you get angry.

  20. Billy Angel

    When My Parents Argued

    I ran out into the night,
    hid behind the house
    and listened to the dark
    under mute stars. It was
    crisp. Thoughts cleared
    in my visible breath.

COMMENT