2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 16

For today’s prompt, write a snapshot poem. When I think of snapshot, I think of a photograph or painting still life. The poem would bring this particular moment to life. However, if you have another interpretation, I encourage you to follow your muse.

Here’s my attempt:

“Saturday morning”

He’s sprawled out on the bed
watching the wind shake the leaves
and branches. The sun slides through
the slats of the blinds. She snuggles
next to him and listens to his heart
beat hard and slow. They stay
that way most of the morning;
after all, there is no alarm.


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0 thoughts on “2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 16

  1. S.E.Ingraham

    Skipping back through the weeks to read here and there and do a little commenting (very little, I’m afraid) – would be remiss if I didn’t mention Marie Elena’s courageous "Stolen Snippets" – quite possibly one of the bravest pieces of work I’ve ever read and is, "too much, too much, too much" I love you so much for sharing this Marie Elena.
    Then to have Bruce’s "Bride" follow so closely after nearly undid me – how very lovely, especially the last 2 lines; exquisite.
    Meant to thank you Marie Elena for leading me back to Corinne’s poem that I somehow missed the first time through – it was as achingly poignant as reported tho’the title escapes me now again …
    Also found "Frame by Frame" by Nikki Markle very well-told esp. liked, "ä condensed version of childhood" amongst other lines
    And, "Protection" by Arielle Lancaster-LaBrie – such vivid images "…a peace offering:a mug of steaming coffee…" I felt like I was there; beautifully told.
    Stephen S. Whitaker’s "The morning you left. January. Snowstorm." A wonderful, short narrative poem with an especially effective ending.
    So much good work here as throughout the challenge …

  2. Rose Anna Hines

    Sweet Two

    She has discovered her two feet
    knees and hips.
    not only is she walking,
    but now has discovered stairs.

    She sits her bum on them
    crawls up them
    and in this moment
    has begin to ascend

    She laughs so sweet
    the angels bow
    to her triumph so recent.
    Too soon she’ll be climbing ladders.

    Somehow I missed sweet # 16
    Now April is complete
    and I can lay down this 2011 sword.

  3. Susan M. Bell

    A moment in time
    Christmas Eve 1969

    He holds her tenderly
    Feeding her the first bottle at home
    So tiny in his hands

    A precious scene
    That will never change
    Printed on the flimsy square
    Tucked away in an album
    Stuck behind clear plastic

    A moment frozen in time
    That special day

  4. Claudia Schönfeld


    the first rays of spring
    bring you back,
    freckled like Latte Macchiato
    wet paint on your shirt, nose,

    brush in hand, dreaming
    your bike summer green, dotted
    with butterfly groove and your
    smile tastes of
    Ben & Jerry’s

    i sit on the edge of a tear,
    wrinkle my nose, twinkle
    dust from the sunshine
    and hum, prepared for

    ……new colors

  5. Jay Sizemore


    This bedside lamp has seen me through
    countless transitions from the real world
    to the cusp of dreams, its softer hues cast
    like an amber quilt over everything light
    can touch. The cats curl at the foot of the bed,
    their stillness as infectious as yawning,
    while my eyes grow heavy and wait
    for my body to surrender.

  6. shann palmer

    Shinbone Alley

    When the last minstrel show,
    carried each willing sap home
    to Jesus, the final hand jive slapped,
    clapped, and Saturday night shut down.

    Sunday woke still sacred, no matter
    what you believed , the stump speech
    or the holy word-ah! Praise the Lord-ah!

    While Mamma ran the kitchen
    from the pew, chicken in the oven,
    stew in the pot, ham all but glazed,
    only women did work on the Sabbath.

    Daddy couldn’t play cards or whistle,
    kids stayed close to home: no hollering,
    Ed Sullivan and Disney later on TV.

    Better have what you need, blue laws
    kept stores closed, sister could bleed
    but no place would sell her pads, though
    cigarettes could be had to soothe her mood.

    Things sure change, now even on Easter
    you can go where you please, eat out,
    beat your wife or buy a bottle of beer.

    If blue-eyed Sally yet lives in Shinbone Alley,
    she’s alone with the cockroaches, cats,
    and a passel of memories only she recalls,
    typing poems on her old Smith Corona

  7. Doug

    Flash : Bulb

    the snow has gone
    even the melt has trickled away
    gushing now, streaming to the lake

    and the shoots, bulbs pushing first
    in spring’s waiting queue,
    are reaching for tomorrow’s skies

    i will not tell them
    of the forecast snow,
    will not
    coat them with disappointment

    i will just smile
    at the blossoming hope

    ©Douglas Pugh, April MMXI

  8. G. Smith

    (A Haiku)
    (c) 2011 – G. Smith
    Sunlight, through dogwood,
    Caresses your face; your eyes
    Smile like azaleas.

  9. ChapLynn


    Drenched in moaning
    the church is consumed
    people crying in the upper room
    one last look, to view no more
    a lifetime closes memories door
    soul singer comes with celebration song
    rejuvenation cloud makes me strong
    release this life
    so we can live on
    we can live on

  10. Virginia Snowden VSBryant


    Grace is all that you see
    From the top of her head, to the bottom of her feet
    She flows across the still page, bringing you to your knees
    She’s able to move without moving, a living doll captured on the page
    Slim fingers beckoning you closer, eyes melting you all over
    Grace, the super model; a queen

  11. Scott Mesrobian


    The man and woman sit on the bench
    In a park by the lake on cool afternoon.
    He squints at the light, the breeze ruffles
    His thin white hair and his legs are bared to the air.
    She sits upright, facing into the wind and
    Braving the chill with the skin of her arms exposed.

  12. Yoly

    Posted wrong poem up there.

    Of Being Tasted

    If I were a plum
    in that chipped bowl,
    I would shift with his
    nearing footsteps,
    ripen and glisten.

    He would press me
    to those husbandry
    lips; pre-wine would burst
    into the realized open.

  13. Yoly

    Snapshots of Spring

    You’re in my coral apron with the tractor patch,
    kneeling on raised soil and sunlight, squinting
    at the camera. A zephyr wind blows my hair over
    the lens: part of you comes through part of me.

    The flowerbed is made. Daffodils proudly present
    trumpets to their maker. You insist I get in the photo:
    show up the flowers. I’m in grubby overalls and your
    white tee. Lucky chases Boots the cat. I look
    away: my profile points to dust tails.

    In Chicago’s meadow: Wrigley Field, you hold up
    a plastic cup of pop. Ryno blasts one past
    the ivy leaves, gets a holy cow from Harry:
    your bliss on 110 film.

    I bring in crocus for the saffron,
    blossoms for their fragrance and
    call out to you. I open the pantry door.
    You, hiding, take a close-up of freckles on my nose.

    A ladybug leaps from a calyx to your arm;
    light leans forward. You hand me a calla
    with a band in it. I jump into your arms,
    kissing before yessing: a gift from a passerby
    with a Polaroid and quick spring.

  14. Iain D. Kemp

    Dear Moosehead,
    What the …???? What happened there?
    Man I hate Texas! Not all of Texas, not
    everyone in Texas but I sure hate them
    Rangers!! Jeter ate his third hat of mine
    – your cousin got me another. Only woman
    I ever see that gives a good goddamn about
    yours truly. Gonna keep it in the cab from now on.
    Gotta be brief I need to get out on the road.
    Fancy a spin out to JFK- make some good green.
    Pick me up at 6 – I sure need a good night!

    Yours howlin’ at the big bright Texan moon
    Ringo the Howler

  15. Babs Loyd

    PAD #16 Snapshot Poem
    Car Wash Time

    Two happy dogs ride along with me
    to the car wash. They grin until
    the jets begin to spurt water and suds
    softly against the windows.

    Suddenly, the pups start trembling.
    Their whining soughs bounce off
    the van’s hollow sides of metal and plastic,
    they show fear; their safe island’s been invaded.

    Once the job is finished we emerge into the
    bright sunshine. The tails awag they romp
    around like clowns, happy to be free from
    that scary, noisy place.

  16. Pam

    Still running to catch up after being away for the weekend (at the Round Top poetry festival in Austin, which I heartily recommend!), and I see that neither this one nor yesterday’s quite hews to the prompt as closely as it might…but no matter; it’s here.

    During the Performance of a Guitar God at the Philadelphia Folk Festival, August 2010

    Unexpected communicants, these slugtoed
    overgrown kids, in their twills and beer logos,
    lining the aisle leading downhill to the stage foot.

    Each one drops into a kneel, in turn.
    in the seeping fallen light, raises hands,
    gestures quick, then turns back

    into the music-riddled dark. What souvenir
    does the supplicant take: some blur of the muse,
    or an image of the worshipful shoulders

    of the previous photographer?

  17. Meg

    Not this time

    With his lips and his big blue eyes
    opened wide under wilted brows
    and a soft touch on my shoulder
    with his calloused tipped fingers
    he holds my eyes with his and says,
    "I’m sorry."

  18. JSP

    Just some minor improvements – not great, but I hope it is better. Everyone is absolutely awesome!!

    Summer’s Day

    Sky of blue
    Green grass
    Laughing little girl
    In vintage sunsuit
    Puppy running
    Chasing butterflies
    Dad in background
    Holding old movie camera

  19. Margot Suydam

    Night Out

    Milling about
    the shabby
    bar, smells of beer
    and sweat dancing
    off musical prowess:
    the crowd drumming
    in air, stomping
    on floor boards,
    shaking off
    the residue
    of the ordinary.

  20. Kate Fern

    Better late than never, 3 snapshot poems

    My gardening gloves
    two pairs of dirty hands hang
    on the washing line.

    At the pet expo
    the dogs were obedient
    the mic misbehaved.

    the kids nag
    for snacks, even though
    they just ate their dinner, I yell
    just as two strangers
    come knocking
    at my

  21. mallora

    a day late, but I thought I’d try the Fib you mentioned in today’s post…

    ‘You just
    ticked off a
    powerful woman.
    And now you’re on your own, sad man.’

  22. Sam Nielson

    License Beat

    Smiling in her palm
    The license to drive
    Begs to be used.
    Make up somewhere
    That needs going now.
    That burn of gas still
    Draws. A radio hums
    Some reactive beat
    In the rhythm of
    Green streetlights.

  23. Sam Nielson

    5 am

    He walks the hall,
    The little boy leans
    Against his heart,
    Finally sleeping.
    Brain thinking slows.
    He sits carefully in
    The blue rocker,
    Hums himself
    To sleep.

  24. Sam Nielson


    A small bit of fluff, wings
    Clear, iridescent, hover-
    Hanging around the water.
    From water it came, to
    Water it will go. Ephemeral
    Life bent on fulfilling
    Itself. Time for naught,
    But when time comes along
    It joins with a paltry
    Few thousand more, a glimmer
    Against the sun, a wave of
    Humid in the heat, silent.
    By night they fall heavy,
    Water surface warfare.

  25. Joseph Beckman

    2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 16

    author note: oops posted earlier unfinished version.
    For today’s prompt, write a snapshot poem.
    Diamond Anniversary
    (unconquerable and enduring)
    The slice,
carefully, slowly, moves,

    to the lips,

    hands spanning inches,

Two hearts,
carefully, slowly, move,

    to denouement,

    memories spanning lifetimes.

    © April 16, 2011 by Joseph Beckman

  26. Joseph Beckman

    2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 16
    For today’s prompt, write a snapshot poem.
    Diamond Anniversary
    (unconquerable and enduring)
    The slice,
    carefully, slowly, moves,
    to the lips,
    as inches span miles
    Two hearts,
    carefully, slowly, move
    to denouement,
    as memories span a lifetime.
    © April 16, 2011 by Joseph Beckman

  27. Stephanie


    Frozen forever,
    A moment in time,
    Lasting, unfading,
    Forever it’s mine.

    Mine to reflect upon,
    Mine to embrace,
    Mine to remember,
    And time can’t erase.

    It can’t erase changes
    This moment has brought,
    Deep down inside me,
    Forever it’s caught.

    Caught in the place
    Down deep in my core,
    Hidden away,
    Yet longing for more.

    Longing for more of these
    Moments to grasp,
    Time slips away
    Too quickly, too fast.

    I’ll grasp at this mem’ry,
    I’ll grasp at the wealth,
    These moments before me
    They make up my self.

  28. Margaret Van Pelt

    “Full Moon”

    As waves crash in the night
    I glide along the sandy shore
    While stars glitter in the blackened sky
    I know my Beloved is the distance
    So I patiently await her sunrise
    And just when she begins to shine
    I fade once more into the morning light
    Never to feel her warmth
    Or the bliss of a morning’s kiss

  29. Linda M. Rhinehart Neas


    They stand in a row along the shore
    bent looking for treasures in the sand —
    bits of sea glass, round white rocks and
    shells that hold the sound of waves with their hearts —

    The picture is taken from a distance;
    the sun high, giving them shadows that remain underfoot.
    Waves lick at their heels,
    as a soft wind blows their hair.

    I look once,
          three times
    before I realize that this is a picture
    of grandchildren mimicking a picture
    of their mothers
       that mimicked a picture of my brothers and I.

  30. Arrvada

    Perfect Moment

    There are few moments in time
    When looking back you can say
    That, that was a perfect moment
    When emotion and moment and environment
    All managed to collide to create
    A memory that would linger forever
    With traces of emotion and longing and love
    Of things even though gone and past
    You would never trade that since moment
    That single dance.
    We may have parted on dark terms,
    Have wept when our love came to an end
    But that moment, a moment bathed in soft light
    Slow music, the soulful voice of Sarah McLaughlin
    How being held in his arms and hearing those words,
    I truly felt I was in the arms of my angel
    And now thirteen years later I still believe
    That was a perfect, last dance for me.

  31. Kimberly Brock


    Glowing bright,
    It shines through the trees
    In my backyard not caring,
    To show its glorious self,
    Waiting patiently
    For the moment
    When I would see it.
    Again and again
    For a few more nights
    Just to be sure
    I am aware it is there,
    So sure of its beauty.
    It will hide for another month
    Then peek-a-boo its way
    Into my yard
    Into my heart
    One more time.

  32. Judy Roney

    Welcome to the World,
    Kaylee Addison

    Baby girl, new baby smell
    A cry so robust for tiny lungs
    You nuzzled yourself up
    Under my chin and right
    Into my heart.

    Little one
    Cerulean eyes that sparkle
    Pink bow in chestnut hair
    A diaper and a smile that
    Illuminates even this photo.

    I love
    Your newness, your snuggle, your
    Sounds, your beauty, the outfits,
    How you look when you sleep, what
    You wear, and your energy. I love your
    Smile when I talk to you, how
    You have brightened my life,
    That you are my great granddaughter,
    How I love you so deeply.

    May the world treat you kindly, and
    You be blessed with all that is good.
    May your pain be little and your joy big.
    May you find the world
    Accommodating to your needs
    And always welcome you with open arms.

  33. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    vanilla envelope
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    see how the light captures
    this vanilla envelope lying on my table,
    it’s flap ruffled and torn at first promise.
    i am sorry but my heart does not ache for the long lost sister
    who originally wrote it, reaching out across hundreds of miles.
    there is nothing for you here. i cannot feel something i don’t.
    and i know you will hurt when i do not write back,
    become our summer of stoning and purgatory.
    this vanilla envelope lying on my table,
    it’s flap ruffled and torn.

    © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  34. Salvatore Buttaci


    Wild-fire red hair
    parted in the middle
    symmetrically cascades
    down your tee-shirted shoulders
    like an apostle of old.

    In the photo, never in life,
    your blue eyes sparkle like stars
    and the reclining half moon of your smile
    is a stage prop, rehearsed.

    My brother, you’re captured there
    in this 60s Kodak moment
    because one day in your youth
    we begged you to stand still
    long enough for the click and flash.

    Now all these years gone,
    you remain still that young man
    vibrant with life, your sneakered feet
    pointing towards a quick escape,
    but only in this surviving photograph.


  35. annie mcwilliams

    the quiddity of birds

    “where Euclid’s geometry
    and Newton’s mechanics
    would account for…” W.H. Auden

    beginning with day, tweets
    start in trees behind the shed
    where, relieved of its slate
    and legs, an old pool table,
    pockets stuffed with potting soil,
    racks up a huge hedge of bleeding
    hearts every spring, surrounded
    by the blue phallic nubs
    of elephant ear hostas.

    this is "where Euclid’s geometry
    and Newton’s mechanics
    would account for" the animate
    existence within the swirled leaves;
    elucidating each Midwest
    April morning, a formula,
    or rule of mathematics outlining
    the emergence and separation
    of offspring from the body
    of its mother

  36. A~Lotus

    Oh, my! Thank you so much, The Doctor and Penny Henderson, for the kind mention! I’m glad that my poem resonates with you! 🙂 Blessings to all of you! I haven’t been able to comment on poems since this PAD Challenge started, but there were so many I really liked!

    Keep up the fantastic writing, poets! 🙂

  37. chimnese


    Ever had your younger self
    Being captured not just in a picture,
    But a painting.
    Whenever I look at it I wonder at
    Amazement how my uncle captures each line, each facial expression as is.

    I remember being in the painting I just
    Turn six year old,
    I remember the tears, if I look deep
    In the painting that he sketched of a
    Snapshot that was taken that day in 1989 on the 25 July.

    I should’ve been happy isn’t all little girl happy when its the birthdays.
    Frozen forever in time,
    Frozen in the only portrait my uncle assembled carefully to create me
    Forever in time.


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