November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 9

My stepson’s fifth birthday extravaganza soldiers on today, which means my time is limited for the intro to the prompt. By 2pm, I need to have a cake baked, a meatloaf loafed, and chili simmered. I think I can do it.

For today’s prompt, I want you to write a dream poem–or dream-like poem. This may or may not work with certain themes, so remember: You don’t have to follow every prompt if it doesn’t jive with your theme. In the meantime, I think I just heard the stove beep that it’s at 350 degrees. Gotta run.

Here’s my attempt for the day:

“He comes”

He comes when the night is silent;
he comes as a wisp of fog;
he comes as a giant bat;
he comes when no one else is near;
he comes to my side;
he comes with his beautiful teeth;
he comes with his ancient eyes;
he comes to take me as his bride.


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95 thoughts on “November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 9

  1. Amanda

    Close to the flame
    I read my book by candlelight
    Another passing storm has cut off electricity
    Oblivious to the rambunctious rain
    I’m jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire with Bilbo
    Playing Quidditch with Harry
    Fighting the White Witch alongside Aslan
    Completely caught up in worlds I can only see in my imagination

  2. Lynne

    Night Terrors

    Clouds rage
    across grey-black sky
    as the last dandelion
    that dares to dream

    Brutal stones of hail
    pelt it into
    a near-nothing,
    limp yellow
    shadow of obscurity.

    Green patch of grass
    mourns the death
    of yellow fuzz,
    sensing the chaos that
    will turn its own humble
    realm to grey-black as
    foreboding as the once blue sky.

  3. Taylor Graham


    You’re in the old house, where everything was
    lost. The stairs are broken halfway up
    the bedroom loft where all night long you’d lie
    wrapped in sweaty sheets of dreams.
    You can’t find the light, the key, the vital
    document. Every door is stuck shut, each room
    filled with piles of bills unpaid, notes unsorted,
    drafts of poems, photos from fifty years ago
    stacked higher than your head, box-
    canyon walls – no, turnings of a maze
    that leads to a kitchen sinking
    into subfloor, cellar where the rats live.
    At any step the stacks could avalanche down
    and bury you. You wake up knowing
    they already have.

  4. Kathy Kehrli

    IX. Ethereal Exigency

    “Why do they have him sitting up?”
    I posed the confused query
    Of my befuddled boyfriend
    As he rose mid sleep for a bathroom trip.
    “Is it because of his blood pressure?”
    I further quizzed.
    Like a beheaded chicken,
    He flopped around for an adequate response.
    Though dreamscape severed from it,
    The inquisition clung to the new reality
    My life had surreally espoused.
    Not receiving a satisfactory reply,
    My quasi-awake exasperation spewed,
    “Never mind.”
    As with the myriad medical exigencies before it
    I’d take care of it

  5. Penny Henderson

    day #9 dream or dreamlike

    In my new house,
    there’s a new place.
    It wasn’t there
    at the open house,
    or walk thro’.
    A corner turned
    leads to a nest of rooms–
    like opening a Russian doll.
    Behind each portal,
    another room,another door.
    I’m a little dizzy.
    How far can this go?
    Why can’t I wake up?
    Maybe I don’t want to.

  6. Tyger

    He Belongs Only to Me

    My husband served me papers yesterday
    Now I find it difficult to breathe
    We were supposed to follow the election together
    vote together
    enjoy the victory together
    hand in hand on the new sofa
    like lovers in each other’s hearts and minds
    We shared everything, even him
    But now, in an uncanny sense
    Obama belongs only to me

  7. Jolanta Laurinaitis

    A Fleeting Glance

    A flicker of lashes
    Corner of eye
    Flittering and skipping
    Skimming over ripples
    A wisp in the morning fog
    A bubble on the surface
    A flash or iridescent blue
    Feeling the breath
    Of her wings
    Curling in your fly away locks
    Turn your head
    But she’s gone
    Like the last lingering memories
    Of a lucid dream

  8. k weber

    a request was made for a translation for my poem on this day. here is the english translation…

    for those who do not know french

    it’s terrible,
    the earth

    with green
    and things

    you can
    not see

    each day
    the weather:

    gray or pink
    in the sky

    a little bit,
    a fire

    and hands
    in the baths

    of the rain

  9. Monica Martin

    We are in the living room
    in our new home. Outside,
    the snow falls quickly,
    but does not stick.
    Everything is frozen
    inder the night sky.
    Inside, a fire blazes
    warmth and light. I’m
    knitting socks on the couch,
    fighting a purring Lola
    for possession of the yarn.
    You are seated at the
    coffe table, reading
    Scientific American.
    Bruno gnaws at his bone
    by your side. The clock
    chimes, eleven, and we
    all rise for bed.
    As you and I cuddle under
    the covers, Bruno mans
    his post in front of
    the door. Lola keeps watch
    from the window seat.

    And I wake up alone.

  10. Vanessa O'Dwyer

    My Dream

    My dream is to cross borders
    I do not care what way
    For the borders that we know and love
    Are the source of our decay.

    There are borders bound by country
    There are borders bound by faith
    There are borders that we pose ourselves
    Through ignorance and hate.

    My dream is to commingle
    And look to greater heights
    Creating happiness and harmony
    With the future in my sights

    There is future in our countries
    There is future in our faith
    These are futures that we pose ourselves
    So let us not delay!

    Vanessa O’Dwyer

  11. Vanessa O'Dwyer

    My Dream

    My dream is to cross borders
    I do not care what way
    For the borders that we know and love
    Are the source of our decay.

    There are borders bound by country
    There are borders bound by faith
    There are borders that we pose ourselves
    Through ignorance and hate.

    My dream is to commingle
    And look to greater heights
    Creating happiness and harmony
    With the future in my sights

    There is future in our countries
    There is future in our faith
    These are futures that we pose ourselves
    So let us not delay!

    Vanessa O’Dwyer

  12. Steve LaVoie

    I don’t know where this came from but I like it.

    Dreamtime Alarms

    A little suburb
    Twisting upon itself,

    As two white wolves
    Constantly follow me around,

    As I watch strange people
    In trechcoats and gas masks

    Burn all the televisions,
    Books, and radios in town,

    While giant hamsters
    Rampage through the downtown

    Area and then aliens in
    Clock shaped ships

    Finish of what is left.
    No doctor I have never had

    A dream like that..
    The only dreams I have


  13. Rodney C. Walmer

     Nightly Distractions

    He suddenly finds himself climbing a tree
    Though, he’s climbing horizontally
    something is amiss
    thinking he’s going to fall
    Into a black hole, a dark scary abyss
    Running, he’s looking for someone to call
    anyone, who can help him
    anyone at all
    Running down each and every city block
    He has to find a way out of that tree
    so, he runs ever so aimlessly
    looking for the right door up which to knock
    If he fall’s into that hole he’ll die
    this he knows, though he knows not why
    He can feel the end is near
    falling he begins to cry out of fear
    when he suddenly hears a clanging sound
    opening his eyes
    he looks around
    He breaths deep, then sighs
    oh, he’s in his bed
    that sound was just the dog shaking her head
    Yep it’s three, time for her to go out
    he thinks, this nightly wake up he do live without. . .

    ©Rodney C. Walmer 11/11/08 Dream poem

  14. lynn rose

    My Special Place

    I feel the warrmth of th sun, the coolnesss of the breeze, the
    mist of occassional rain and a down pour every now and then.
    I also see the darkness of the clouds.
    The weather is not always the same in my special place, but
    the feeling of calmness is always present.
    Just glidding across the glimmering water and feeling the breeze on my face, the calmness overcomes me.
    I feel like I am the only person on earth at that moment and
    this place only has me.
    There is no other world outside when I am here.
    Its just me and my special place, just me and serenity. There is no other place like it and no other feeling, it is indescribable I am so glad I get to go there in body and sometimes in spirit, I wish I could go more often and sometimes I secretly wish I could stay. The end.

  15. Kateri Woody

    Haha Jared, I’m sorry if my poems are causing you problems… I love Joker a bit too much as you can see. I’m glad someone else is amused by my theme.

    Just think batty thoughts before sleep, and Joker will either dissipate from your mind’s eye… or take over. No clue. 😛 Sorry, again!

  16. Terri Vega

    Poem 9

    I dance with them
    in the garden; gentle waves
    swaying melody

    fantasy colored world of
    make believe wishes singing
    to princes and new born

    Violets and Echinaceas waiting
    to cut in; the tall grass in harmony
    with the wind as sunlight
    melts its blossom rays
    down against my cheek

  17. Jane penland hoover

    Don – the line "rain held off in the fading light" – so delivers the message it seems to me here – so much longing and sweet sadness in this short piece.

  18. Don Swearingen

    The clouds rolled in last night
    But all we got was wind and cold.
    The rain held off in the fading light
    And we gathered as the day grew old.
    Our family is large now, larger than
    When you left by five. All boys
    Who come to my house, a clan
    Unto themselves, whose religion is noise.
    A new one is on her way, we’re
    Waiting for news from overseas
    About her. Between hope and fear
    The time seems to simply freeze
    As we wait for her debut.
    And I. I wait to come to you.

  19. Lori

    Careful Dreams

    never stopping always
    running on hoping
    someday slower days
    happen somewhere outside
    of this dream.

    helping people
    or die
    or just get on their feet again

    reciting facts and
    figures in your head
    hoping one of them
    will wake you up.

  20. Heather

    Wow, so many great poems . . . true journey, up and down . . . deep stuff. Loved them all.

    I have to say my favorite today was SaraV, loved the fish dream.
    Iain’s cats were great.
    Kate’s "Dreamlike" put a smile on my face.
    Kate Berne Miller- I have that exact same dream about my two dogs drowning one taking in water, the other happy to stay under!!!! Me jumping in to save them . . . The exact one!! I wonder what that means?
    Judy- very touching
    Patti, I felt like I was in the car with you!

    Cheers everyone.

  21. kate

    Great work everyone the last few days, sorry I haven’t had time to comment.
    My favourites yesterday – Victoria, S Scott Whitaker, Bruce, Sharon I.

    My faves today – Margaret, Heather, Nancy, Sharon.

  22. Mary K


    I stand on the edge of a cliff,
    vultures of the past surround me,
    and grunt, flap their wings, hiss.
    l Iook into the abyss of future,
    know If I jump I am doomed,
    I cannot see the bottom.
    If I do nothing I will be prey
    to the vultures whose hot breath
    I feel on my neck. With their bald
    heads ready to feed, they sense death
    is near, present will soon be past.
    it is my choice how to die.
    I jump.

  23. kate


    Turning the corner
    on the home stretch
    a man on a bike playing harmonica
    non-handed down the hill.

    Look up
    I grin, rushing home now
    through the door, ‘come on kids
    come and see the rainbow.’

  24. Shann Palmer

    Change (for Kristallnacht)

    When glass is shattered
    its jagged music spreads
    concentric from the site.

    No sound is more compelling
    or absolute, and we become
    compromised, made vulnerable:
    eyes, bare feet, our belongings
    open to injury, violation.

    Once begun the act is done,
    to be never forgotten. New panes
    may look the same but are not.

    In dreams she hears the sound
    of breaking glass and stirs awake-
    How easily things get broken.

    (The line “How easily things get broken.” is from the Mass by Leonard

  25. Connie

    And now after some sleep…


    I am a little domino
    with my brothers and sisters
    waiting for the Builder’s tip
    to move into action.
    I can’t do much alone but—Wow!
    Look what we can do together!

  26. Kate Berne Miller

    Animals Fill My Dreams

    Anxiety dreams like the time I tried to save my own dogs from drowning,
    diving down to the bottom of the pool, bringing the old one up to the surface,
    water gushing from her mouth, diving down again for the other dog only to find
    her trotting across the blue-tiled bottom, herding clownfish, not drowning at all.

    Sometimes my dreams are strangely humorous: just last night I was serenaded
    by a crustacean rock band. Often I’m shape-shifting, once escaping an abusive
    husband by turning into a goldfinch. I remember flying over red and gold hills
    as a hawk, then diving from tall, white cliffs with other ancient pterodactyls.

    Owls walk clumsily toward me across a carpet of autumn leaves. I open
    the door onto a clear cold winter night to find a cinnamon bear calling
    me out. I step into the snow and follow her into the forest, where a circle
    of young girls, half bear and half human, dance in a circle around me.

    Animals whisper secrets that vanish when I wake.

    Kate Berne Miller

    P.S. I may have figured out my theme! It seems to be developing into an exploration of boundaries/borders, the space between: tameness and wilderness, dusk and dawn, between animal and human, waking and dreaming, fact and myth, natural and artificial, white and not white, crazy and sane, yesterday and tomorrow. Or maybe I’m just trying to be broad enough to include everything!

  27. jared david

    Kateri- i need to stop reading your poems before i go to bed. i have a love-hate relationship with the joker. but i can’t keep away from them…i love your theme

    Rachel G, Bruce- great images

    Earl- one of my favorites today…hopefully knocks the thoughts of the joker out before i start dreaming

  28. Billy Angel

    What Have You Come To See?

    I woke up this morning
    a murderer. In a few seconds,
    I realize I’ve been dreaming.

    It’s like I’ve traveled to the other
    side of the earth and arrived
    the day I left.

    It never happened
    or the secret I’ve feared
    existed has kidnapped my life.

    Like Lazarus to kin
    and neighbors, I’m living as before,
    filled with death I can’t explain.

  29. Michelle H.

    Thank you Jane and Karen! I appreciate the comments!

    Susan B. – Your’s was my favorite today – great rhyming!

    K. Weber – would you please translate? – even if the rhythm is off in English I would like to know what it says.

    Good night all!

  30. Bruce Niedt

    Wow, Nancy. Your poetry never fails to impress me. A powerful closing to that one. My poem also starts with an unremembered dream:

    Off the Charts

    That dream I can’t quite remember,
    the one that was so vivid, but faded
    like an autumn flower as I woke
    and withered to a dry stalk
    when the everyday took over ,

    is like that song I can’t remember,
    the one I heard on the radio a week
    or two ago – I can hum a few bars
    of the refrain, and can recall that it had
    something to do with love, or lost love,
    and it had a great guitar solo.

    That song will come around again,
    eventually, on someone’s playlist,
    while the dream, that one-hit wonder,
    may never be on my charts again.

  31. Nancy Posey

    I’m posting late–touring D.C., writing on the run!


    “The dream of my life has risen to become fact. . . . I have been a witness to the magnificent. . . .”
    —from the last letter from Mordecai Anielewicz, Warsaw Ghetto
    Revolt Commander

    Just this morning I remember saying,
    “I had the weirdest dream last night,”
    but now for the life of me I can’t
    recall just what I dreamed. Most of my
    dreams are standard issue from the
    book of common dreams, school dreams,
    although I haven’t been a student now
    for years. I’m walking down the halls,
    suddenly aware that I’m undressed,
    or remembering a class in which I
    am enrolled but have been failing to
    attend. I have a few I call my own—
    trying to make a phone call as lights
    go out or number keys fall off,
    contact lenses so gigantic I fold them
    to put them in my eyes. But today,
    seventy years to the day after the
    night of broken glass, Kristallnacht,
    I walk the corridors of the memorial,
    so moved by photographs and movie
    reels I cannot stop my tears. What do
    I know of nightmares? What do I know
    of dreams?

    Nancy Posey

  32. Earl Parsons

    Day 9 for LL&L:

    Inside the Gates

    The dream I just woke from was perfect
    Streets of gold, crystal streams and pearl gates
    Happy people, all healthy and fit
    An air of joy that can’t be explained
    So real
    So perfect
    Yet so seemingly far away

    It was such a wonderful place
    That I regretted waking up
    And it was more beautiful
    Than any words can describe
    But, I’ll never forget it

    I wanted to go back
    So I went back to sleep
    But the dream was no more

    One of these days
    It will be real
    And I’ll be
    Inside the gates

  33. Ronda Eller

    Tale of Two Plazas

    Warriors give chase. We chuff,
    trample thick rainforest
    like Amazonian gazelles,
    race toward an ancient,
    overgrown plaza.

    I have to pee. I stand alone
    in the clearing. A giant
    porcelain toilet
    daunts me…

    my burgeoning bladder.
    I don’t think this is real.
    I awaken.

    The cold floor says “hurry”
    as I rush into the hallway—
    another kind of plaza
    where crowds buzz by
    (pasty faced patrons
    that won’t be passed).

    This scene can’t be.
    I need to pee
    and open my eyes
    to a real ceiling.

    ~ Ronda Eller 2008

  34. Earl Parsons

    Day 9 for SS:

    Night Play

    Go ahead and
    Get some rest
    Close your eyes
    The night is best
    For remembering
    Things from the past
    In dreams I write
    And scenes I cast
    I’m in control
    Of what you see
    So go to sleep
    Forget about me

    Let’s drift on back
    To days gone by
    High school again
    Remember this guy
    The geek in green
    With pimpled face
    You never made it
    To second base

    How about this
    Graduation night
    You’re the star
    Everything’s all right
    Your freedom song
    So why the tears
    Those were happy times
    Do you miss those years

    Now, lookie here
    Your wedding day
    Remember the vows
    To Love and obey
    You’ve come so far
    You’re a family
    So dream on about
    Favorite memories

    I’m in control
    If you want joy
    I’ll take you back
    When you were a boy
    Let’s dream about now
    Or even tomorrow
    You want a happy one
    Or a bit of sorrow

    Some are so real
    Others confusing
    Some are scary
    And others amusing
    All come from me
    I set the stage
    So enjoy the book
    I’ll turn the page

  35. Heather


    We met up
    Some time after her death
    Maybe a year or so
    Past the day I last saw
    Her corpse
    Lying in a coffin,
    Rented for the service,
    To be turned to ashes
    Immediately following
    Our nervous breakdowns
    And final goodbyes

    She looked better than I remembered,
    Was with someone
    I didn’t recognize
    Someone I should recognize
    Because we were best friends and I would certainly
    Know the company she was

    A year is a long time
    To keep paths clear
    Not talk,
    Not phone
    But no matter
    She was here,
    In three dimension,
    Neiman Marcus lips
    Perfectly red

    Surprised to see her,
    Confused by our encounter
    I ask her to explain
    Her absence,
    Her whereabouts,
    Her defensive attitude towards me
    And my questions

    She glanced towards
    Her new friend,
    Then back at me
    And said,
    “We were never friends.”

    Actually, I should have called it a nightmare . . . it really was a horrible dream.
    We were friends, the best of friends and I miss her so much. She was a good person. "Cheers" to my friend Claire.
    We will meet again :)

  36. Kateri Woody

    Caught in the misty haze
    of a pain induced dream
    his body twitches hard in response
    to nothing.

    He hears the voices whisper,
    low and smooth as whiskey swallows –
    heated tongues burn their messages
    into his psyche
    for future use.

    Invisible fingers choke sobs
    and snores from his unconscious form;
    lying prone and stiff in the trunk
    of a car he didn’t see coming.

    For all Joker knows,
    he’s always been in this dream land –
    this golden shroud bleeding
    into his reality and he doesn’t
    know yet, that he will never escape it.