2010 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 11

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “No One Wants (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Possible titles include: “No One Wants to Tell the Truth,” “No One Wants to Save Their Money,” “No One Wants to Write a Sestina,” etc. I hope everyone is ready to write a poem today!

Here’s my attempt:

“No one wants to suffer”

Take this hand and hold it close to your face;
say my name if you can still remember;
who visits you now? Your life is a game
of waiting to escape and to wander
into the forest and then disappear.
Like magic, you conceal your secrets and
smile while inside you can’t wait to perform
your next trick. I have seen this show before
and wonder if this is the path I’ve been
traveling too. Who will visit me? What
will I scheme as my roommate falls asleep
and shits herself, as the nurses calmly
wait? Take this hand and hold it; let it guide
you through these locked doors and into the woods
where nature has been waiting to claim you.


Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer


Check out Frederick Smock’s Craft-Talk: On Writing Poetry. In short essays that are themselves lyric, Smock presents his own insights on the craft of poetry, as well as nuggets from other practitioners past and present.

Click to continue.

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197 thoughts on “2010 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 11

  1. Mike Barzacchini

    No one wants to get caught

    Everyone wants to take
    the last piece of pie,
    apple with crumb coating top.
    But no one wants to get caught.
    So we stay up, drink coffee
    and pretend to watch TV.
    But really, we’re watching each other.
    Hoping to be the last one awake.
    Because everyone wants to take
    the last piece of pie,
    but no one wants to get caught.

  2. alana sherman

    or, No One Wants (HAH!!)

    No one wants the old or poor
    to die unnecessarily,but this winter
    we will read about people
    who freeze to death
    because they have no heat.
    And they won’t have heat
    because oil is too expensive
    because we are running
    out of it. Our government (We)
    won’t invest in alternatives,
    and the oil companies can’t
    figure out how to charge enough
    for solar or wind power
    to stay in business.
    It just isn’t economical.

  3. Michelle Hed

    No One Wants Asparagus For Dinner

    I’ll eat my meat
    because Father says I need my protein
    but I will not eat that red beat,

    I’ll eat my fruit
    because it’s sweet and fun to eat
    but that thing covered in dirt, a root,

    I’ll eat any form of sugar you put in front of my face
    because my Mama says I have a sweet tooth a mile long
    but I will not eat anything green which ends up at my place,

    I will not eat my vegetables
    be they green, yellow or red,
    “best cake ever Mom”
    I yell as I race out the door
    wondering briefly what happened to the zucchini
    she was cutting up before dinner…nah.

  4. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    no one wants
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    no one wants to lose at poker
    no one wants to eat crow
    no one wants a loaded joker
    no one wants addiction to blow

    no one wants to take the credit
    no one wants to admit defeat
    no one wants to chance and bet it
    no one wants to take the heat

    no one wants to end up homeless
    no one wants to die alone
    no one wants to first confess
    no one wants to throw a bone

    no one wants to tow the line
    no one wants to be the first
    no one wants to bitch and whine
    no one wants to be so terse.

    no one wants to graze and run
    no one wants to cash it in
    no one wants to come undone
    no one wants evil to win.

    © 2010 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  5. Khara E House

    No one wants to forget

    I beg you,
    etch me in your palm,
    a shadow of stone.

    Let me linger, never rot beneath your fingers,
    greyed memorials of skin behind closed doors.
    Draw me to your face, where I will trace
    my stinging regret in whispers on your cheek.

    Let me grope sooner than fade.
    Never forget my reach—
    reel in my embrace,

    locked, keyed in the chambers of your hand,
    to touch, to hold, sacred memory in your secreted crypts.

  6. Kate Berne Miller

    No-one wants to lose their way.
    It was clear when we left home
    sky blue in the late afternoon sun,
    yet when we crest the next hill a
    thick fog has filled the valley below,
    pushing down heavily on the farmers’
    fields, muting the brilliant autumn
    palette until only the flame yellow
    poplars glow in the mist like candles.
    Within the small confines of the car
    our words slip past each other as you
    smooth out the creases in the worn
    map, bending to decipher its secrets.
    An old red barn materializes ahead
    of us, lit by the streetlight at the cross-
    roads. We drive on, turning right then
    left until the barn looms up again.
    We turn to look at each other, both
    thinking didn’t we pass that same
    barn on that same corner half an hour
    ago? You fold and re-fold the map.
    Neither of us wants to be lost in the fog
    navigating these unfamiliar roads together.

  7. Dennis Wright

    What Nobody Wants

    Every soul born
    may want to fly.
    There may be no
    end to the sky.

    There may be no
    end to the sky,
    and so no, no
    reason to cry.

    And so all souls
    may want to fly.
    Life is such that
    nobody wants to


  8. Marian O'Brien Paul

    No One Wants to Lose a Family Member

    Of course, I thought my family was immortal.
    Even as my parents added another and another
    and another, all brothers, after my own advent,
    I still believed each succeeding family member
    had entered the world forever. Had I hammer
    chisel and stone, I’d have engraved it, once I’d
    learned to read and write. But, of course, I was
    wrong. First to go was my oldest little brother,
    ten years old: cerebral hemorrhage. I was eleven.
    Next my own daughter, three months old, born
    with open spine, fluid smothering her tiny brain;
    I but twenty. Then my father died at sixty-four,
    not so young although sooner than expected; ten
    years later my mother followed. By then a death
    was not unanticipated and I had a full new family
    all my own, of course, immortal. Lulled inside
    a twenty-five-year hiatus, I had forgotten death
    until a blazing house on fire provided me a grim
    reminder: lost to smoke inhalation, a grandson
    and a granddaughter from a family not immortal.

  9. Sam Nielson

    No One Wants Death

    Poor thing. It wanders
    Home to home not
    Knowing where it might
    Lay its dark head.

    Whenever it comes near
    A home, we shake and
    Shiver into the morning
    Hours poulticing it at bay.

    They say this life must
    Invariably have a 100%
    Rate of mortality,
    So why should we fret?

    My hometown used to
    Toll the bell every morning
    At eight, a reminder then
    That I should be at work

    Then by some political
    Correctness the tolling
    Changed to noon, a mark
    At the middle of day.

    Now, though, it tolls not
    At any time of day, tolls
    Not being popular enough
    To continue.

    Dunne’s lines of fear not
    It tolls for thee, was not
    A warning bell, I think
    But something clarion

    Akin to pinching yourself
    To assess your validity
    Or maybe reading the
    Obituaries to see if you

    May have survived to die
    On some other day.

  10. Rosemary Nissen-Wade

    No-one Wants That Stuff

    No-one wants batik caftans
    in a Melbourne winter.
    He was going to set up
    the perfect import business
    to enable us all
    to return often to Bali.
    He returned often,
    the family only twice.

    He opened a little shop
    on Beach Road, Beaumaris,
    and put a dressmaker there.
    She invented short caftans —
    ugly, and not the vogue.
    No-one wants to look weird.
    And no-one wants to wear
    resort clothes in the suburbs.

    I wonder if, in Bali,
    the tourists still wear sarongs,
    or do the Balinese
    all dress Western now?
    I miss those caftans, though —
    the long ones, made over there.
    But no-one wants that style today;
    you can’t get them anywhere.

  11. Lauren Dixon

    No One Wants to be Broken

    A bone, a heart, a psyche,
    no one wants to be broken,
    bone is the easiest to repair,
    physical therapy with a caring
    provider touching you, showing
    you how to mend it, then
    doing exercises at home, a
    prognosis of a few months
    and you’re all brand new again,
    the heart is more difficult, there
    is no caring provider to touch you,
    but perhaps, good friends who
    tell you that you are strong and
    this too shall pass, that there
    will be another. Someday.
    The psyche is the hardest,
    sometimes therapists give you
    a nugget to work on with
    pearls from their mouths,
    sometimes they give you drugs,
    that mask the problems. For awhile.
    but mostly it’s all on you,
    to heal yourself, by yourself,
    to stand on your own shoulders,
    If you don’t have the
    stamina to do it, it never
    gets totally better, it’s always
    a little ill, a little queasy, a
    delicate flower that can wilt
    at the slightest breeze,
    Let’s hope today is dead calm.

  12. Jeanne Rogers

    Arash said "I hope I did not upset people but I wanted to share my view of why some folks decide to write poetry."

    Oh Arash, no upset here. Your poem did what good poems should do, provoked a reaction, a response. And whatever experience you bring to the poem when writing, so, too, do readers bring their experience.

    Your line "screams inside your fists" instantly made me recollect "Silent Scream," a book by an abuse survivor I read years ago when working with our local family violence and sexual assault services. Combine that with my recent glut of CSI reruns and the stage was set for me to interpret your poem darkly–and pretty accurately, it seems.

    And you are correct: intense emotions are the impetus of many poems.

  13. Arash

    Jeanne Rogers,

    You wrote:

    "Arash: I’ve apparently been watching too many CSI shows lately, as my mind went to a scary place after reading your poem “No one wants to write poetry.” I think the “screams inside your fists . . .” may have had something to do with that, and my predisposition to think the worst in some cases. I think I’ll reread it in the daylight tomorrow."

    Yes, you are right. After visiting the blog of one of the people who contributes poetry here, and reading a poem that made reference to her being abused as a child, I started to wonder what makes someone write poetry. I think in some cases it is the very intense emotional reaction to an event that comes out in our poems. It can be something like love or rage, for instance. So here, this is my poem again but with some notes in parentheses:

    No one wants to write poetry but
    when stars land on her flowing hair
    as our lips embrace in the timeless space,
    (above lines refer to romance)
    or when big hands grab your porcelain wrists,
    and you’re danced to your screams inside your fists,
    (young girl being abused at the hands of older adult)
    your soul reaches out…and lets go
    like rose petals into the summer breeze.
    (I used "rose petals" to talk about innocence lost either
    in romance or more graphically during abuse)

    I hope I did not upset people but I wanted to share my view of why some folks decide to write poetry. Thank you Jeanne for reading my poem and sharing your thoughts. I appreciate it.

  14. Marie Elena

    Thanks, G.K. Asante, I think! 😉
    Thanks PSC!
    Walt, I feel so honored to be included in your Sevenling! However, you seem to have forgotten that I’m not Nice, I’m Good.

    All: Severely lacking in reading/writing time yesterday and today. Missing you!

  15. Marie Elena

    Thanks, G.K. Asante, I think! 😉
    Thanks PSC!
    Walt, I feel so honored to be included in your Sevenling! However, you seem to have forgotten that I’m not Nice, I’m Good.

    All: Severely lacking in reading/writing time yesterday and today. Missing you!

  16. Jeanne Rogers

    Kevin D Young: One thing that helps my intimidation factor is to not read anything but the prompt until I’ve written and posted my prompted poem. Then I can read and think about the other posted poems without feeling I might be influenced by them, for good or bad. Your "No One Wants to See the Gorgon" was great, by the way. Does all the things a good poem should do. Thank you for sharing and joining in the challenge.

    Which is the other thing that helps me complete the daily poem: the challenge. I view this as a personal goal, to write a poem to the prompt given, to push myself a bit more than usual, and to create to a fixed idea, yet allow my creativity to respond to the prompt in whatever way it chooses. And I love seeing how other writers react to the prompts, how diverse we are in our poetry.

  17. Susanne Barrett


    No one wants to admit it–
    to admit when we’re wrong,
    when we’ve plunged our knife
    into someone’s heart, or back
    or even slit a throat–
    or at least imagine doing it.
    No one wants to confess,
    to own up to mistakes,
    to take the blame.
    We want to appear perfect,
    without fault,
    able "to leap tall buildings
    in a single bound."
    No one wants to admit
    his errors
    her sins
    his blunders
    her wrongs.

    It’s weak…
    to admit our failures.
    Isn’t it?
    For "when we are weak,
    then we are strong."
    When we confess,
    we are cleansed, forgiven.
    The wounds disinfected,
    so healing can begin–
    healing of friendships
    of marriages, of families.
    And after healing,
    after all is forgiven
    and restored,
    then comes the growth–
    a pale greening of spring,
    a clear clean blue of sky,
    purity of translucent cloud,
    and glowing warmth of sun
    sprouting good things–
    growing, stretching, expanding,
    weaving lives together.

  18. Jeanne Rogers

    Marlon: Your “No One Wants Poor Little Daphne”—oh, my, the line “Rejection still abides” says it all. Heart-wrenching words, nicely done poem. Thank you.

    Yoly, your poem made me cry; I know children are going hungry all around us, and we aren’t taking care of it. “The mom is grateful that the children don’t know they’re hungry until they are” is a powerful ending.

    Debra Elliot: It is hard, isn’t it, to catch up if you get behind? So congrats for your poems, and for reading those posted. That takes some major dedication.

    Michelle McEwen: Wow. Love the voice in your poem “No One Wants Somebody Nobody Else Wants.” I once saw Wanda Coleman perform her work and your poem made me think of her voice and her poems and how she made a story come alive. You accomplished that here, too.

    Arash: I’ve apparently been watching too many CSI shows lately, as my mind went to a scary place after reading your poem “No one wants to write poetry.” I think the “screams inside your fists . . .” may have had something to do with that, and my predisposition to think the worst in some cases. I think I’ll reread it in the daylight tomorrow.

    And Robert: I agree with the many posters who think your poem “No one wants to suffer” is one of your best responses to this round of prompts. Very well done, and such poignancy in the line “Who will visit me?”

    I’m enjoying the work we are all producing. Congrats to us!

  19. Terri French

    No one wants ask for forgiveness
    No one wants to forgive

    To ask for forgiveness is to admit
    you were wrong whether you acted out
    of selfishness, malice, or out right ignorance

    Some would have us grovel or
    kowtow at their feet
    Some would rub our noses in
    the "wet spots" of our wrong doings
    Some would keep us on that hook

    And so we make justifications
    It wasn’t our fault
    They deserved it
    Friends and family
    should overlook things
    We didn’t, afterall, mean it

    So here we are
    each in our glass houses
    each holding a stone
    letting them fall

  20. shann palmer

    Nobody wants

    what nobody wants
    scuttles under the couch
    waiting for the guests
    to go home

    that’s what everybody thinks
    they want the green,
    green grass of some imaginary
    land that never existed

    in nature, like Miffy’s hair-
    the color of a scream

    I used to wake up at 2:15
    every night to shout out
    when I was a kid
    my mom told me it was
    the exact time of my birth

    but why wake?

    Do I want to
    do it again?

    I have exactly two
    close friends
    on is a lunatic
    the other’s not,
    just far away.

    Nobody wants to be alone
    we settle to wait.

  21. Maxie Steer

    – A Paradelle –

    Because there’s growth in humanity.
    Because there’s growth in humanity,
    dissatisfaction is economy.
    Dissatisfaction is economy.
    There’s growth in economy
    Because dissatisfaction is humanity.

    Let barter swallow wanton’s gaze.
    Let barter swallow wanton’s gaze
    and praise burning pocket’s blaze.
    And praise burning pocket’s blaze.
    Pockets’ burning! Let wanton’s blaze
    barter, gaze, swallow and praise.

    An upgrade’s replacement quenches today.
    An upgrade’s replacement quenches today
    till viral consumption can no longer assuage.
    Till viral consumption can no longer assuage.
    Can today assuage viral replacement longer?
    No, an upgrade’s consumption quenches.

    No economy can swallow praise.
    Burning viral growth – an upgrade’s gaze.
    Today there’s humanity in longer pockets
    because barter quenches and can assuage.
    Wanton is consumption:
    Let replacement blaze dissatisfaction.

  22. Mary Kling


    No one wants to lose one’s job, fail a test,
    get a speeding ticket, have a house fire,
    go bankrupt, be on the outside looking in.

    No one wants to go to dentist or doctor,
    to be diagnosed with Alzheimers, cancer,
    Parkinson’s, multiple sclerosis, or ALS.

    No one wants to be in pain, overweight,
    break an arm, be criticized, unhappy, alone,
    angry, treated unfairly. No one wants to die.

    No one wants to write a poem about
    things one doesn’t want because there
    are so many that cry out for mention.

  23. Kevin D Young

    So, that was my first post ever on this site. I’m too slow to write a poem on the "day of" much less post it; the trans-Atlantic folks intimidate me (being first); then everyone else intimidates me; and I don’t know how y’all do it. The good thing is that this is way at the end of the line and maybe I’ll get away with it. I can’t get on enough to read everything or comment, but I’ve enjoyed reading everything I’ve seen. Congrats to all!

  24. Kevin D Young

    No One Wants to See the Gorgon

    No one needs six kinds of cornflakes
    twenty-eight varieties of bell peppers
    four dozen brands of frozen peas
    or five hundred twelve breeds of dog.

    Alénya stands with her hands
    in the pockets of a long brown
    coat, one of thousands of its one
    Polish species, in the impossible
    breakfast cereal aisle, frozen
    by the perfect filibuster.

  25. Tracy Davidson

    No One Wants to Read a Tacky Acrostic Poem

    Playing innocently, little
    Emma didn’t know that touching John’s
    Nether regions would lead to
    Isolation and

  26. Tracy Davidson

    No One Wants the Ugliest Dog in the Pound

    No one came to claim him.
    No one wants to adopt him.

    Visitors pass by daily, children
    laughing at the little freak in the cage,
    adults turning their noses up
    and hurrying by, avoiding his sad eyes.

    He looks up hopefully every time,
    not understanding the pointing,
    the cruel comments, the faces
    the humans pull at him.

    He vaguely remembers a kind woman,
    long ago, who looked after him.
    A cosy bed, warm fire, good food,
    legs to cuddle up to on the sofa.

    He doesn’t know where she went
    when they took her away in a black bag.
    Or how he ended up in this barren place
    with its hard floor, thin blanket and
    meagre rations, where it’s noisy and cold.

    He doesn’t know that tomorrow someone
    will finally open up his cage
    and lead him out. Lead him as far
    as the mystery door at the end of the corridor
    where he’s watched the other old dogs go.
    They never come back.

    Tonight he’s all alone but tomorrow,
    he’ll see the old woman again.

  27. Uma Gowrishankar

    No One Wants To Remember Certain Things

    The spider crawls on the damp wall
    after trapezing on a silk thread of memory,
    voices are heard where doors closed on the blue room,
    a bed so narrow that you had to sleep as if dead.

    Nightmare zipped inside the pillow
    bellows like a pregnant woman,
    the skin of the womb of grief drawn thin
    pushing at the wall to be birthed in the world.

    The stars are not visible,
    the night presses at the window,
    pours into the corners of the room and
    lies thick like tar that I cannot peel away.

  28. sara gwen

    No One Wants To Buy
        No one wants to buy
        what you try to sell.
        What you’re in supply,
        no one wants. To buy
        such shit would fly
        in the face of a hell
        no one wants to buy.
        What you try to sell
        now ain’t that unique.
        No one wants to buy
        you – your boutique
        now ain’t that unique
        nor radical nor sheik.
        More’n meets the eye?
        Now ain’t that unique!
        No one wants to buy.

  29. sara gwen

    No One Wants This To End
        How’d we come so quickly undone?
                        No one
        past lover you’d best reminisce
                            wants this
        as badly as I. We pretend
                                to end
        what we most wish we’d dare extend.

        We started us out conscience-free,
        yeah, but just between you and me,
                no one wants this to end.

  30. S. E. Ingraham

    No One Wants the Orphans

    In Romania before the fall of Communism
    The west viewed the situation there as dire
    Especially that of ‘those gypsies’, they’d say
    Tsking and shaking their heads and acting
    As if they knew how it was for the Roma
    Those born to the life of the gypsy …

    Then, the USSR crashed apart and soon after
    The Ceacescus were hung, both of them
    And there was great rejoicing – at least
    In the West – where many thought by breaking
    The back of the communist manifesto, all
    Would be well now, not knowing that for
    Gypsies, they were merely exchanging
    One set of terrible circumstances for another

    From the west, all the well-meaning do-gooders
    Went off to view the orphanages in Bucharest
    And Moldova and other places throughout
    The newly freed poverty-stricken countries—
    Only to find totally appalling circumstances;
    Cribs jammed side by side, with more than one infant
    In each and so few staff to manage the underfed
    And horribly unclean babies they had to hose down
    Once or twice a day in cold water (no hot available)

    Infant mortality rate was, not surprisingly, very high
    So western families stepped up immediately
    Trying to adopt as many of these orphans as quickly
    As could be arranged, but such was the publicity
    Surrounding these horrid places, the new governments
    Wishing to appear progressive with no ties to the old
    Decided the best way to address the situation
    Was to eliminate the problem at its source and since
    Most, if not all of the children were roma – that is gypsy
    They were not seen as human beings in their countries

    So eventually, it was deemed best to terminate the adoptions,
    Close the edifices and pour the children back out onto the street
    As one might imagine, the ones grown old enough to fend
    Became the quintessential street kids, some even made it back
    To their families but they became the main breadwinners there
    Learning to steal and beguile as soon as their bare feet
    Hit the ground; others, not old enough to survive— did not
    And the west, most of the west in any case, thought the problem
    Had been eradicated and, in a sense, it had been, had it not?

  31. sara gwen

                no one wants autumn
                        stomping off so indignant—
                                we place tulip bulbs

  32. barbara

    No One Wants Mortality Like a Gerbil In Their Thoughts

    before hunting became husbandry
    before bread and wine,
    mockery, puns, poetry
    came the first version of the thought
    no one wants
    thumping around within.
    some cave resident watched blood flow
    and life depart and came to know mortality
    before group wisdom came up with the year
    and broke daylight into hour after hour
    death gave birth to the divine
    that ancient forgotten night
    and gave the terrorized an afterlife.

  33. sara gwen

    The Eleventh, No One Wants To Believe In
        But for the dream our passions have embraced
        for holding on to after night withdraws,
        our poisons might’ve poured doubt through the pause
        before the midnight hour, the hour encased
        in moonlit romance, dipped in aftertaste
        familiar as if known beforehand. Just because
        nobody else believes, their natural laws
        need not be those on which our love is based.

        The morning star’ll come back to unveil
        the words left on our lips before we slept
        uncovered, undisturbed. We needn’t nail
        each promise down to know we will not fail
        each other, every lost belief we’ve kept
        against the final breaths we might exhale.

  34. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    Thank you Karen, RJ (I’m delighted that Kaitlin still chokes you up) PCS and Amy thank you for your support for Kaitlin. For anyone new to Kaitlin who enjoys her there is a series on my blog and this "little" girl who did not want to leave has followed me to NaNao …

    Robert… truly happy that you did see my comment this morning your poem still lingers at this hour.

  35. Buddah Moskowitz

    No One Wants Another Poem

    No one wants another poem,
    obviously it’s way too easy to grow ‘em.

    Writers with insight are numerically few,
    true artists are rare (the sure sign that they’re true).

    Too many claim a literary profession,
    thinking that art is merely confession.

    Mistaking the insular as a merit unique,
    they fill MA programs with empty technique.

    With words they dig a verbal excavation,
    but many of us think it’s just masturbation.

    I’ve gone on too long, for now I just realize,
    I’ve done the same thing that I came here to criticize.

  36. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik


    It was 11/11 Veterans Day
    And aptly the prompt was
    No one wants … on this day
    As always on The Street
    Different voices sung
    and feet tapped to many
    a varied beat

    First off course was our editor in chief..

    Robert “No one wants to suffer” offering “Take this hand and hold it; let it guide
    you through these locked doors and into the woods
    where nature has been waiting to claim you”

    a stunning poem of pain and guiding someone home

    Linda R. “no one wants to admit that staring in the face of death is personal”
    Mariya “no one wants to be alone”

    Confronting essential questions in each poem

    Walt “NO ONE WANTS TO BE LEFT. RIGHT? “Standing pat…
    Imagine… moving forward… all could imagine that…

    Viviene “No-one wants..to sit on a wobbly chair..in front of a computer..all day..trying to..write..a” poem worthwhile… lended a gentle understanding smile

    Annell “No one wants to have his feathers removed”
    As of course this would prevent a soar.. although she mentions that she herself has never flown far from the floor

    Chev “No one wants to live a fractured life..” kicking “…a beer bottle …into a brilliant, sunny day…no one wanted to see”
    Adding another to a collection always collection worthy

    Rachel “No one wants to read poetry anymore.”
    Speaking as others have said… the words that each and every poet dreads

    RJ Clarken “No one wants a prank call”… “at all..”
    Going on in RJ way to lighten exquisitely any cast pall

    Nancy J. “No one wants to go” … “When someone says “What was that noise?”
    Describing a human understanding of that special lack of poise.

    Beth R “No one wants to accept responsibility”
    Explaining how this is impacting on society

    Jacqueline “No one wants to die”… You will get trampled on…”If you walk at your own pace”
    Simply, clearly putting the oxymoronic conflict of life right there before her face

    De’s Shadorma .. “Scatter” here in its entire “No one wants…”this poem. So I
    will blow it …into the ..wind, wordseeds flying fast, far …to begin again.”

    Planting another garden of words… in a voice becoming familiar and unique as is De’s ken

    Elizabeth “No One Will Want…” … “in our promised land..”
    Where all will have what is need in each hand..

    Andrew “Injustice” … in his “no one wants to…” do all that must be done.. except for “being worn out…a hangnail.. and the cold hurting “… his “nose.”
    Still garnering a smile in self-deprecating sweetest bon mot accepting responsibility for not

    G.K. Asante “No one wants anything.. because they need everything… “we tried to stitch into the grass…the meaning of our names”
    In eloquent language describing a life of games..

    Claudette “No one wants to have less”.. “It makes no difference how much one has.
    No one wants to think they have less”
    Though in the end all is no more than a physical mess

    De “O-1” showing her flare immediately in the title there…

    Karen “No one Wants to Attend Your Wedding or Your Funeral”
    Quoting Jerry Seinfeld but they will come…” because… they care more about you and your family…than what they’d rather not do or think about.”

    PKP “No one wants to know… Kaitlin lives on.. No one wants to speak of
    her, no one wants to know…Smiling, avoiding, dropping…in their wake seeds of ice
    in my just warming heart to grow..

    Joseph in typical elemental elegance “No one wants to the moon” … describing in vivid mouthfuls… “the under-appreciated, neon-displayed, palatal…expression of joy…
    In drenched lush images that never cloy.

    Vicki “No one wants to hasten” …”the inevitable”..
    Although known that is will come to all ..

    Pam Winters “No one wants to buy Nic Cage’s House”
    Explaining with a wink and a frown that what it was is no longer “Tinseltown”

    a light note as in “she goes” especially after a hair of “unknown origin” where it came from? Who knows?

    Taylor “NO ONE WANTS TO ASK…”

    Elizabeth C. “No One Wants To Be Her” ..”She is one,…but many, and knows that even she..should not want to be her.”

    In fluid language question why

    Dare “No one wants to be a monster…slave to demons of brain and …mind struggling to breathe..”

    Megan “Everyone wants their paperwork done faster…And no one wants to wait”
    Explaining to all life at work.

    Laurie… In her walk through the park muses lyrically “ No one wants to hear…
    one-sided conversations…” making one want them all to go off on vacations.

    Karen L. In her “Synergy” says “Nobody wants to write alone, lonely..poems drift silent on the silent sea..”
    Where we can float together, understandingly

    Ina “No one wants to miss the ending”… sweetly looking forward to a son’s manhood as the “soundtrack still plays …the same theme of love that it…played when you were first born..”

    Kit C. “No one wants to see the shadow”…”Every day beneath the surface,
    the façade of frozen smiles,…runs the black river that feeds the world,”

    Pat J. “ No One Wants..- blue scraps of paper,…a lost bead, some feathers,…a sky-blue stone…” as the bower bird waiting for his mate builds “a place out of scrap”
    Crafting from bits and pieces a story of love and patience did this tap.

    MaryAnn McCarra-Fitzpatrick “No One Wants The Knock on the Door” in “some language past her understanding…”
    And common to all human fear the knock that no one wants to hear.

    Margaret F. “No One Wants To Greet Their Fears”
    Yet comes to the conclusion that for the sake of character… “we need to greet our fear.
    We need to welcome our dismay…embrace our deepest, darkest dread,…shed on ourselves the light of day.”

    MiskMask “NO ONE WANTS TO BE YOUR JOKE …”Wakey-wakey, it’s time you..knew…That this ol’ girl is not your fool”
    Here using off-beat language so sparkling a tool.

    Candace.. in the power and poignancy her poem in its entirety
    No One Wants Bad News
    I shut my eyes. Light is faint
    but shadows slide across my eyelids,
    especially one shaped like a mushroom cloud.

    A tangy, metallic taste swamps my mouth,
    fortelling a sinking doom
    that can’t be swallowed away.

    A word, not spoken aloud,
    comes harshly to my ears behind
    other words about a person loved.

    My solar plexis clenchs
    all appetite away
    and quivers my standing knees.

    This heart grief has several
    names and crouches in fear
    of the truth: cancer

    Jeanne “No One Wants to Be Forgotten”… Least of all the father of three…we buried yesterday.”
    Judy “No One Wants to Die”… even though “Death awaits us every one…”
    a waft of grief passing through at pain having just begun

    Daniel Ari “"No one wants to go to hell in a hand basket."…But on the other hand,
    this one is a pretty …nice handmade hand basket.”

    Marlon Whit …"No One Wants Poor Little Daphne"…”She was born a bundle joy
    But not to her father…for he had plans for a boy…”

    Sheila Deeth “No one wants to turn the summer sun to graying fall”
    Continuing on with stunning language throughout all

    Laura H. “No One Wants to be the Last One Left”…
    Describing the true nature of being bereft

    AC Leming “No One Wants A Covert War”
    Speaking to the children who grow up with only what they know

    Genevieve “No One Wants the Last Three Peas”… but eat them for their mother’s ease.

    CMC in “Truth” relays that “No one wants to floss”…
    Gripping on her dental chair.. bracing for another scare.

    Debra Elliot.. what a delight “No One Wants to Grow Up!…and face the monsters once
    hidden under the bed…”
    If one could only leave adulthood and return to childhood dread.

    Yoly “No One Wants to Live By The Rules of Hunger”… in heart-rending imagery the children waiting to eat and … “The mom is grateful that the children
    don’t know they’re hungry until they are.”

    Another that for joyful essence here must be presented from completely ear-to ear

    No one wants to write poetry"

    No one wants to write poetry but
    when stars land on her flowing hair
    as your lips embrace in the timeless space,
    or when big hands grab your porcelain wrists,
    and you’re danced to your screams inside your fists,
    your soul reaches out…and lets go
    like rose petals into the summer breeze.

    Linda C. speaks of alienation so imagically … in “The Story Of No One” ..No one wants the weird girl at the party,..with her lank, black hair…and her fragile face
    and her clever air.”

    Sara M. “No One Wants to Know”… how you are…”your reply should be “fine and dandy”… going on to explain that one does not really want to know another’s malady

    Bruce in a “Recession Triolet ….(No One Wants to Hear You Whine)
    “No one wants to hear you whine,…‘cos everybody here’s in need…So shut your mouth, get in this line”

    Janet Rice “NOBODY EVER WANTS TO LET GO….”Hold tight to the pillow,
    …Guard our greatest love,…Sneak that last marshmallow,Dreaming up above!

    Jackie S. In “Erecting the Building” puts forth a simple truth incisive and eloquently writing …. “No one wants to donate the screw in the wall…They would rather have a plaque seen by all”

    Kimiko “NO ONE WANTS A REAL-ESTATE CRASH” …and “.How have I fared?
    A house on my head?!…For that, I wasn’t prepared”

    Linda “No one wants my dad to watch the Three Stooges, 1968” describing as though we all were there her dad after church watching among his children’s laughter reading the paper in his chair… until he changed because of childish slap-stick and mother’s directed course and to Nam causalities and reports of assassinations off the AThree Stooges did he click.

    Sara V. In words spare and clear speaks of the “Status Quo”…No one wants to change
    Not really… it’s that burning platform..That no one wants to leap from… “ and then goes on free of guise that.. Without change there would…Be no butterflies”

    PSC speaks in a voice clear and true that “No One Wants to be Last”…to leave, last man standing, last one ..remaining..when everyone else has..moved on, departed..deceased…..
    disenfranchised encumbrance …inconvenient burden, unwelcome guest, having
    stayed too long..

    Michelle McEwen.. in a poem that is a screenplay of images spooling, voices heard
    “No One Wants Somebody Nobody Else Wants” find it soak in the cadence and wisdom of a woman wise … who tells one what to do if her “man wants to leave” so that he will grow “….worried…that somebody else wants you, somebody else wants..what’s his— his legs, his hips, his womb, his lips,… his eyes, his titties, his thighs & every other body part..he likes to think he owns.”

    Melissa "Missy" McEwen portrays the inequality that ribbons out among so many families… as she describes how “No One Wants to Visit Mama”…in the convalescent home so they…make excuses —exquisite elaborate excuses—..into the receiver of the telephone…to the dutiful daughter on the other end…and hang up before she can get
    a word in…

    “No One Wants To Fail A Student…” despite failing grades and effort lack.. Parents are heartbroken by poor grades…They blame and harass the teacher and school…Hence, nobody wants to fail a student..” it isn’t the way it was way back.

    Justine M. …”No one wants to not understand…What is laid out clearly before him.
    …No one wants to live in the dark”

    Patti W. No one wants to rewrite…What they thought was said…And done…”

    Pamela in “Afraid of the dark”… pens “No one wants to be filled with fear
    Needlessly worrying…”

    Dan Wilcox …. Writes …in “The Job…Just as no one wants to be drafted
    to be told to kill someone you don’t even know…not me anyways “No one wants to…be told what poem to write…what picture to paint…to do it this way…unless, of course
    you are paid.

    Sara Gwen Oh so cleverly incorporated bits and pieces here you see!…

    No One Wants No One Wanting What No One Wants (first draft)

    I want to admit every thing there’s enough known to admit, and
    I want to be alone, left completely alone, permanently so, and

    I don’t want to be right, not if I’ve a chance to be left, and
    I don’t want to try to write any worthwhile poem, I won’t, and

    I’ll take having my feathers removed, I can fly fine sans, and
    I’ll take living a fractured life, I can live with cracks, and

    I don’t have to be a poet, I still want to read PAD poems, and
    I don’t have to have the perfect word, I still go wanting, and

    I’d be ok with a prank call, any call’s fine prank or not, and
    I’d be ok with going, any way to go’s going to do me fine, and

    I’ve wanted to accept responsibility for anything I might, and
    I’ve wanted to die since I knew I’d be taken alive if not, and

    I do want that poem, I want that poem, and that one after, and
    I do want that want I’ll want forever, then forever after, and

    I admit I want any of De’s wasted seed, we can recycle it, and
    I admit I want the rain, it’ll help grow De’s wasted seed, and

    I do want to do the dishes and laundry and even the trash, and
    I do want something anything everything I do want to want, and

    whatever else’s conceived and written and shared and read, and
    I suppose that makes me what I’ve known all along I am: no one.

    And in closing though as the night wore on trying to limit poems one to each writer
    Will end with this “good nighter”


    To leave the party earlier than you wanted
    To wish that sleep didn’t call you home
    To hope that next time you can stay longer
    To love this group and not long to roam

    To rhyme for no reason and like it
    To read others’ work and say, "Right!"
    To shut down computer and turn off the light
    No one on PA wants to say goodnight

    I love you all madly Nighty, night!

    And so now it is done and it has come to an end
    Until tomorrow when Robert will a new prompt send.

  37. Connie Peters

    Car Door

    Nobody wants to slam the car door
    on their sister’s big toe.
    No one wants to hear the screams,
    see the blood,
    be reminded it of it for years to come
    when they see the toenail
    had never grown back in.
    Just ask my sisters.

  38. Earl Parsons

    No One Wants……

    No one wants to hear the truth
    Especially if the truth opposes what they believe
    No one wants to listen to reason
    Especially if the reason seems somewhat unreasonable
    No one wants to face reality
    Especially if that reality is unrealistically real
    No one wants to accept responsibility
    Especially if that acceptance hurts in any way
    No one wants to sacrifice for others
    Especially if their sacrifice goes unrewarded
    No one wants to abide by the rules
    Especially if the rules restrict their idea of freedom
    No one wants to be a part of the team
    Especially if being a member means taking orders
    No one wants to be seen as an American
    Especially if their American pride makes others feel inferior
    No one wants to admit there is a God
    Especially if His acknowledgment might bring persecution
    I don’t want to be no one

  39. Cara Holman

    No One Wants to Know

    When someone asks, “Hey, how’s it going?”
    they don’t really want to know that your washing
    machine is on the fritz again, or your cat just died,
    or your mother-in-law was recently diagnosed
    with Alzheimer’s, or your insurance won’t
    cover your surgery, because it is a pre-existing
    condition and you haven’t met your waiting
    period yet. When someone asks, “Hey,
    how’s it going?”, what they really mean is “hi”.

  40. Sara McNulty

    Hi all,

    I am back home and sooooo glad. I’ve hardly had time to read much, but I will catch up eventually. From what I have seen, you are all doing a fabulous job. Thanks for still being there when I got home. You guys are like an extended family–probably better.


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