2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 22

For today’s prompt, write an “only one in the world” poem. This only one in the world might be a person, an animal, a place, or an object. Think of someone or something unique and write.

Here’s my attempt:

“Good Friday”

This pen is the only pen
in my hand at six o’clock
on Earth Day during the year
two-thousand eleven, but
eventually I will
move on to another pen
and another until this
pen–the only pen of this
moment–will no longer spark
fire in the dark spots of my
mind, though my fingers may still
reach out, not knowing for what.

*****

Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer

And tweet your progress with and carry on conversations about the April PAD Challenge by using the #aprpad hashtag.

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284 thoughts on “2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 22

  1. Nancy Posey

    I am in Atlanta, pondering why the nicer the hotel, the less likely the wifi is free.

    A day late posting, but….
    One of a kind

    Even Lady Liberty’s met her match,
    and what happens in Vegas 
    doesn’t stay in Vegas, showing up
    in her place on postage stamps.

    Octuplets trumped the run-of-the-mill
    quints, who no longer celebrate 
    birthdays on the cover of Redbook.

    Even alone, we search for mirrors,
    hoping to meet our match.

    And yet it’s true: there is no "most unique."

  2. Claudia Schönfeld

    the vessel

    you make me want to
    fill flowers into your mouth,
    smelling of sun splash spring
    and yellow pollen.
    and that’s the only moment
    i think of you
    as something special,
    something to hold me for
    more than a few seconds,
    for a vessel of blistering bliss,
    held between
    shaking hands and the remnants
    of an oxygen bleached summer,
    not the one of ’69 or
    some date you can fix, more
    a moment which holds me
    while i hold you
    before fragrance spreads
    across the room and i
    move on

  3. Rose Anna Hines

    ONE

    One
    House

    on
    main
    street

    one
    man
    a
    dad

    his
    girl
    is
    two
    now

    she
    plays
    with
    Toys
    and
    Tom

    But
    Tom
    cat
    is
    out
    on
    a
    limb

    girl
    looks
    for
    Tom
    on
    the
    couch

    She
    sees
    him
    in
    the
    tree

    She
    calls
    Tom
    to
    come

    He
    climbs
    down
    then

    she
    pets
    him

    He
    purrs

    Bliss

  4. stephanie barbe hammer

    the last dadaist

    ladies and gentlemen
    and children of all persuasions
    in the center ring of fire and ice
    the only dadaist left in the world —
    brought here from the wilds
    of Zurich —
    Be careful!
    the dadaist is fierce;
    he or perhaps she
    will put all 14 of her/him
    in a clown car —
    s/he will tightrope walk singing
    Meatloaf songs
    backwards
    s/he will jump into the audience
    and disappear.

    you will think –foolishly
    you are safe from the influence
    til you find yourself on a street corner
    declaiming a manifesto
    with 12 other people you met
    at the 4 starbucks that stand at each corner,
    all wearing paper hats and costumes–
    all proclaiming loudly
    blim blam bazoom.

  5. Marcia Gaye

    (Sorry – Posting on Saturday – had tornados during Good Friday service and had to stay in the building until traffic was restored. But what a night to remember! Hundreds of us singing acapella in the dark.)

    I was going to try for an overly sentimental sonnet but I’m too tired … This is supposed to be in alternating voices, but I’m too tired …)

    Our Singular Love

    You are uniquely crafted, my love,
    There is only one you, my dove.
    You’re the only one in my heart,
    Your visage is a singular art.

    Never another on this marble blue
    is possessed of the qualities you imbue.
    Always distinctive, your eyes alone
    light the light that in my eyes is shown.

    Your voice claims exclusive right to my ears,
    Your touch evokes my flowing tears.
    We share a solitary love
    Gifted only by God above.

  6. John Pupo

    Amy Barlow Liberatore – I was really just trying to think of how different each and every poem is here, and that for an entire month long
    we each delve into our creative collectively, yet still maintain a wide variety 🙂 Thanks for the comment!

  7. M.A. Dobson

    GOLDEN
    The golden rain tree
    in my back yard
    is no more lovely
    than any golden rain tree
    in the world
    until the
    winged indigo
    alights on
    it beneath
    a deepening
    sky

  8. Stephanie

    One of a Kind

    No!
    Not one with red hair.
    No!
    Not one with freckles.
    No!
    Not one with a yellow car.
    You’re kidding
    Right?
    Have you ever gotten
    The feeling
    That God was laughing
    At you?
    Well,
    Three decades ago,
    He was laughing at me.
    I was scouting out
    The co-ed lounge,
    Trolling for a husband.
    (Oh, my!
    That looks terrible in print.
    Truth is truth,
    That’s what I was doing.)
    And then there was
    The man
    To whom I was
    A Secret Saint.
    I sent encouraging notes.
    I said hi when we passed
    In the stairway.
    We talked some.
    But no, no, NO!
    This was not the man
    I was looking for.
    At least,
    That’s what I thought.
    Boy,
    Am I glad God laughed,
    Glad He had
    Other plans!
    Married to that man
    For nearly 30 years,
    And I still can’t believe
    The undeserved blessing
    He is.
    He truly is One of a Kind.

  9. Uma Gowrishankar

    My Mother

    The room bursts with blue from the wall,
    the prints of flowers fluttered in the wind
    like dancers under the open sky.

    The gaze on me from the years gone by,
    stirring from catacombs memories that
    explode with colours like dyes in the vats.

    Breath that stays close to my neck
    like a kiss of a lover, murmur of breeze
    but mistiness blurs as cataract of the eye;

    wipe the window with a piece of paper to see
    life like spilled beads roll on marble floor –
    glasses of colour, my kaleidoscope

    that gathers shards of beautiful images:
    my mother as her hair blows,
    eyes reflect the blues of the wall, sky.

  10. PSC in CT

    Hmmm… just tried to put this out here and it disappeared, so forgive me if it ends up flipping back through cyberspace to appear twice! :-O Anayway…

    As always, so much good stuff out here! Back for round 2 to try to add more comments, while waiting for today’s prompt. Will see how far I get…

    mbschied – looks like you & I were on the same page – but you did a better job with it!
    Heiberg – “English” – a beautiful tribute.
    Salvatore Buttaci – also beautiful.
    Shannon Lockard – well done!
    mike Maher – I like “Stuck”. :- )
    Chuck Puckett – well said
    Rob Halpin – I like the idea of those elusive moments being snapshots – nice! :- )

    Melissa Rossetti Folini – isn’t that the truth? The world would be a better place if more people could do this. :- )
    Jane Shlensky – “One Small Word” – beautiful & honest & real — I love this!

    Michele Brenton/banana – “Bitcoining” – I learned something new & was amused at the same time. What more can you ask for??
    Paula Wanken – “hello baby girl…” and Shannon Lockard – “My Child” – both are sweet!

    Pearl – “Papa’s Postman” – I think I knew that guy! (Well described.) Made me smile. :- )

    Walt “BUFFALONIA (BUFFALO POLONIA)” – This one brought back some memories for me – though I never heard of Buffalonia or Dyngus Day. But… Bristol CT? Who knew? I would have thought New Britain. ;- )

    Genevieve Fitzgerald – a simple, but deceptively complex haiku – nicely done!
    de jackson – “Singular” – Excellent!
    Barbara Young – your art piece made me smile. (My art work fits your description too!)

    Michelle Hed – Like “Earth”… but like the haikus more!
    Daniel Paicopulos – “Nothing is Separate” – Love this message – and agree wholeheartedly!
    Gil Gallagher – “Feedback” – this too made me smile. :- )

    J. D. Mackenzie – Dream of the One Place – Sounds like paradise! I’m right behind you – but can you make it 2 chairs?? 😉

    That’s all for now. Back later? I hope! 🙂

  11. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    Ha HA ….IPAD. Auto correct is like a chatty analyst who keeps changing my words to what "it" thinks I mean!

    I was agreeing " completely ". NOT. " covertly" with De regarding. Kendall’s exquisite sister poem….

  12. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    De…appreciate your mention of Kendall…. Poem was exquisite and I would have missed it….Agree covertly with the particular lines chosen… There is a unique liquidity …beautiful
    Bravo Kendall….

    Correction thanks for the link with De and the compliments were for Cstherine…. I don’ t think we’ re machines although undoubtedly the poems shared are computer generated ( okay insert groan…I’m waiting for prompt listening to the rain pouring out of gray skies….mhmm a renewal, rebirth, do/ over prompt today?

    Happy poeming!

  13. Jane Shlensky

    My, I’m glad I came back to this day before going to the next this morning. I just scanned and enjoyed Tanja Cilia’s poem and AnneMarie McWilliams’ Gnosis. I think I’m there now, AnneMarie. Also, thanks so much for the comments from Heiberg, Amy Liberatore, Nina L. and Buddah. Nu shu is used on the fans of characters in Lisa See’s Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, if that’s what you were referring to. It was a language, however, that was used in other correspondence and spoken as well. I need one of those code languages sometimes, don’t you? Thanks all. Now on to Day 23

  14. Carol

    Doomsday Clock

    Its face greets me every morning
    stoic as it clocks away
    the seconds of these minutes,
    the minutes of these hours,
    each click of its hands
    tiny hammer blows.

    Relentless these ticks,
    they thrum against my eardrum
    like drips of water
    from bathroom taps
    in the small hours.
    Futile

    to think about
    not winding its key.
    Whether it tocks or not
    my only hours in the world
    still pass in the relentless
    hum of days, and
    O! the silence of the nights.

    Carol A. Stephen
    April 22, 2011

  15. PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik

    Amy …. I can hear Grandma Blanche saying " that’s MY. granddaughter ….. I can feel her hug! You do her proud you Sharp not at all " little" Pencil…. Just read you have pneumonia YIKES! Take good care of yourself

    BUDDAH BEAUTIFUL…. should become a simple GREAT- POEMING-AWARD…. Ah……yes all One….One is the All…. Lovely. ( thanks for the mention I am truly honored although we are all there…all one :). )

    Corrine…. If we be machines then your sweet words the oil! Honored to be included in same breath with De … Hope she feels the same!

    Jane…from the beginning have struggled with this commenting dilemma…I am filled with joy that you seem to have nailed it… Thanks for kerning me in mind and mentioning those second thoughts on the hubris of Eye Catchers

    Happy Poeming all!

    Oh and Buddah… There is a fabulous bagel place around here…muffins-cranberry is heavenly, chocolate-chip…. along with ruggalah, and some of best bagels and fixings anywhere! How many are we? Lol

  16. Kim King

    Thanks Amy Barlow Liberatore- You get some rest! Pneumonia is tough to kick. I appreciate your kind words, but get back to bed! Take care.

    Heiberg- Thank you for the mention. I need some of that French espresso right now. Enjoy your Saturday.

    Will check in on everyone later. Spending the day with my precious almost-grown-up children in the "Strip" in Pittsburgh. Happy poeming!

  17. Melissa Hager

    Katie Dixon – I thought you expressed the concept of one and only with your college city in a neat, thought provoking way! A colleague and I were just discussing Chapel Hill’s changes on Thursday. Those 4 or more years are so stamped on your person, but – just like us – those towns change as well.

  18. Domino

    Thank you Andrew, The "One Soul" issue is a pressing question to me as well. 🙂

    I did enjoy Astronaut, and wonder how things worked out for him. (My boss tells me I care too much about our clients…but I guess I am just tenderhearted.)

    Long day for me today, not much time, as I spent much of it on an airplane on my way to Alaska.

    Sleepy…

  19. annie mcwilliams

    Gnosis

    There comes a time in every life
    when one realizes there are fewer days
    to live than have been already
    including this one & therefore tries
    to eliminate gray and tedious behavior, lying,
    banshees, expensive doctors and sorrow.
    Remaining days shall consist of distant lights,
    peace, walks in the wood, paint brushes
    and diaries. We may give up convention, new
    clothing, and organized religion even if it means
    disapproval; concentrate on all six senses.
    Maybe a trip back home. Possibly noise
    from children, parfume from clover, naps.
    A pet for adoration, all the violets. It is a duty
    to stay awake and sing, like birds, call God’s being
    into ours. We are small and intimate with silence,
    no longer concerned with being understood.

  20. Heiberg

    Andrew Kreider – thank you so much. And it feels great to read your "Astronaut" – I love this son’s attitude. Great poem.
    Jane Schlensky – thank you so much and your "Vigil" touched me, it’s great.

    And you are right: There are so many good ones here. From this morning’s reading I’d also like to add:

    Jo Lightfood: "One of Those Days"
    Hannah Gosselin: "Only One Planet"
    Kim King: "Only One in The World"
    Gretchen Gersh Whitman: "Only he"

    Thank you!

  21. Gretchen Gersh Whitman

    PAD 2011- April 22
    Prompt: Only one in the world

    Only he

    would bring pink tulips on
    a gray day, then cut them
    to size in a crystal vase &
    set them on the piano corner
    where her gaze would be.

    Only he
    would hear how her line at
    the DMV felt like
    heaven’s waiting room
    even to a skeptic
    with everyone counting
    the seconds, wondering
    if they would get in.
    Was their ticket stamped?
    Would they miss the call?

    Only he
    would know how
    she dreaded her next
    check up if she told him.

    Only he
    would kiss her goodnight, drop
    an Almond Joy in her lap, accept
    her rendezvous with Mozart,
    wine & PC, then warm
    her toes when she returned.

    Gretchen Gersh Whitman

  22. Tracy Davidson

    There’s Only One George Dubya

    And don’t we
    all kneel down and pray
    for that one
    small mercy
    thanking God for not giving
    Babs a set of twins.

  23. Stephen S Whitaker

    Is this correct?
    A pair of scrub pines bending like elbows in the wind
    as the arm of an Atlantic storm
    pushes over the shore.
    To be unmoved,
    to be unfeeling

    is to be a disconnected bone
    to a skeleton that has no idea
    it’s missing part of it’s hand.
    It is to be a tongue in a skull
    that does not it can speak.

    Once while tending to work
    my hands appeared to me
    as other.
    That my fingers had turned to light,
    and could not be felt,
    that my fingers were not my fingers
    but longer, thinner, somehow,
    painted and delicate,
    the hands I might wish a lover to hold
    me with,
    after we’ve made love in the afternoon,
    on a warm spring day,
    after fighting for so long
    over nothing.

    Is this correct? This tethered way
    the heart feels each passing minute,
    like a dumb animal
    that doesn’t know its been hurt.

  24. Janet Rice Carnahan

    De Jackson

    Thank you for your kind comments, De! A word wielder with kudos being better than pie! I am seeing words, swords and cutting nice as pie kudos. Quite the image . . . but tasty!

    Walt Wojtanik

    Thank you, Walt, for your kind and thoughtful comments! You might not want to encourage Janet Planet. It takes very little for her to hit the sky and fly! Appreciate the toast and cheers to you too, Walt! Isn’t it all grand, really?

    Pearl Girl

    Loved your beautiful, “Second Thoughts on Eye Catchers”. Very sensitive, compassionate and kind but then you are just that way!

    Mosk

    You are right about the illusion and all the words you wrote. Beautiful truth stated, Mosk! Nothing is separate and that is the blessing.

    Fabulous Friday Finds Day Twenty Two

    Katrelya Angus

    Your poem, “Earth God” was moving, touching and tender. Your devotion was beautifully expressed. I loved your description of Jesus. “Only one God, living the life of a rugged man, In holy voluntary poverty, a carpenter making shelves, the wealthy Romans put statues of Bacchus, upon those shelves – not knowing the real Earth God, was making the shelves, And standing up against the harsh competitive life.” This was an incredible image, Katrelya. I loved that last line about the “harsh competitive life”. It is a tough life in that regard and as a carpenter, he was in that world. Your description of His Mission was also well written. “Only one God – an Earth God, whose mission was to defy convention, by dying, and by resurrecting – to valiantly slay death itself”! Your ending was sweet and timely! “The day after tomorrow, I honor His triumph, and I shall dance – I shall dance for Him.” Deeply moving indeed, Katrelya, great job!

    Rox

    Such a refreshing perspective on a, “First Love” in your poem today! It was charming and truly drew me in too. “They’ll never come again, that first flush of recognition, the tantalizing wondering and yearning for returned emotion, that first kiss, not on moist lips but silken, brushing lightly across, the back of my surprised hand.” The innocence of it all is always so tender! “Willingly drowning in the vast green ocean of those merry eyes, they drew me in long before that sweet tenor voice caught and held me.” How truly romantic this description is, Rox. Your ending was also touching and sad, given all the sweet young love. “I was envisioning a lifetime of heaven, not just fourteen short years of joyful friendship before you left me for Death.” I enjoyed this lovely precious poem about something truly memorable. Great going, Rox, it took me back to mine and I loved it! I loved it then and I love it now! Thanks, Rox!

    Cresta McGowan

    WOW, Cresta, I loved your poem about a baby boy that is oh, so loved! Your description is so sweet and it brought out a mother’s love so perfectly. “His hands are small, dirty finger nails of which I constantly scold him for, reach up to touch my face, to kiss him tight, and steal more smooches from his precious cheeks rosy all year through”. How absolutely tender! One big baby tooth and we are reminded of maturity coming. “The baby is fading into a big boy, but he is mine, all mine, a one and only in a world”. Your ending was spoken like a true mother! “That makes my heart melt, like butter on warm waffles we will share on Saturday morning.” What a beautiful picture of motherhood, sweet baby boys and a warm waffle breakfast on Saturday morning! Does it get better than that? Loved it, Cresta! Wonderful and yes, warm in all regards! Way to go!

    LBC

    Such poignant images in your piece entitled, “Road to Paradise”, LBC! “The one and only Road to Paradise, circumnavigates this planet, snaking through a valley of evil, along a river of tears meandering, through deep dark forests harboring dangers of denial, twisting, turning, tumbling down a mountain of hope, to wander across a desert lost and lonely seeing shelter, while the blowing sands of time obliterate the highway.” This is a fantastic way to describe our very human path. The challenges of evil, tears, feelings of denial and being lonely, lost and seeking shelter are the things that test us throughout life. This was a very creative approach to highlight the human quandary. By the way, I enjoyed the image of “tumbling down a mountain of hope.” Yes, we do have plenty of distraction! “Only temptation in the distance illuminates the path, this Road to Paradise, so difficult to travel, without the footprints my One and Only leaves before me, as I travel this thoroughfare seeking to emerge in sunny meadows offering a clear look at Paradise on the Horizon.” This was truly an offered piece of pure devotion and wonder. Thank you, SBC, it was marvelous to read! I also enjoyed your “One Wish”. To “coin” a phrase, it was golden!

    Shannon Lockard

    “One Lie” pretty much told it like it is! Lies are pesty little things that can become devastating left untreated. “Starting as a minuscule thought, revised and rehearsed, effortlessly delivered, attaching to my brain, a parasite, devouring what was left of us.” You revealed how lies take a life of their own. I like your reference to, “revised and rehearsed”, because they do play over and over again. That is clearly their insidious nature. It is as if they are “parasites” that cling to us and aren’t really us at all. For something outside of us capable of “devouring” us is a frightening prospect and your poem works with this concept nicely. They are “effortlessly delivered”, which makes them hard to detect, track and eliminate for sure. Great job, Shannon! Truthfully, I enjoyed your poem!

    This ends my one and only one minute in this now moment! See? Already gone! And so am I! Minute is up! Sleep well all! Until we meet again really soon! Thank you for this unique one of a kind day! It was good!

  25. A~Lotus

    Only Your Kisses

    brushing past
    the honeysuckles
    all my thoughts undone
    with the first kiss
    on my cheek

    *

    with all the leaves
    from the pebbled staircase
    swept away…
    I fall into your eyes
    as you gather me
    in a pile
    of kisses

    *

    braiding through
    my wind-tugged hair
    yellow butterfly…
    I savor your kisses
    as the moon grows fuller

    *

    in the middle
    of our heated argument
    we spat out
    the bitter taste
    of unripe grapes and exes

    *

    never a wine taster
    yet at daybreak
    the taste of plum blossoms
    of your lips
    on mine

    *

    morning shower–
    you find all
    of my (dirty) words
    printed in lipstick
    on your body

    *

    during a meeting
    you text me
    your many :-*
    somehow we are miles
    closer than ever

    *

    your smile
    better than a Chesire moon
    your kiss
    tastes of pine
    and frames this very moment

  26. Tanja Cilia

    I had my chance and I blew it
    I wanted to come… and you knew it.

    A resisted temptation is
    A missed opportunity.

    Why didn’t you ask outright?
    It wasn’t for a woman to do so.

    Was it because you were too proud
    To admit that for once
    Your horizon had broadened
    To include
    Someone else…

    And that someone else was me?

    And now you’re back in town.

    I watch you
    Through the window of the cafe

    As you sip your coffee,
    Oblivious to the world,
    At the same table

    Where you

    Could have
    Might have
    Should have

    Asked me to come with you.

    The waitress sees me, and waves.
    And, just out of curiosity,
    You turn your head.

    You start as you recognise me.
    You shift in your chair, making to stand up.

    It’s too late. I’m getting married tomorrow.

  27. Amy Barlow Liberatore

    Skimming, sorry not more comments. Buddah, left word at your site. Kim King, your take on Eiffel Tower, excellent personification.
    J. Pupo, would love to know if you Wordled this or simply grabbed words as they traveled by on the river of your imagination.
    Kendall, your poem about your sister brought tears. Really lovely tribute to her memory.
    Misk, a good desk has history. You’re making yours there!
    Jane S: Is nu shu the language of the fan? Truly touching.
    Joseph, sad but true, the keepers of the languages (oral tradition) are usually matriarchs, and these tongues are being silenced by the day. Thank you for creating this poem, which pairs with Jane’s nicely.
    Walt, thanks for Dyngus Day… one of those days I truly miss Buffalo!
    That’s all I can do tonight… have pneumonia and don’t want to spend too much time out of bed. Have a peaceful Easter and Pesach, all. Amy

  28. Benjamin Thomas

    There can be only one PAD!

    There can be only one Poem a day challenge
    With many poets rich
    In word
    In utterance
    Style and composition
    In creativity
    In feeling
    There can be only one Poem a day challenge
    Extensive in days
    Wealthy in experience
    Bringing forth
    New treasures
    The new treasures
    That each day promptly
    Brings to display
    Its corporate beauty

  29. John Pupo

    Paula – your comments make me smile each and every time 🙂 Sorry I couldn’t exacerbate the situation any because your comments are too nice! 🙂 Thanks again!!

    -John

  30. Laura Hohlwein

    There is only this poem
    Only the one
    Copy, paste
    Miss it

    This one has space after each letter
    Nothing but space
    a lot of it
    Nothing but future
    Who knows how much
    This poem is like my living
    my right now

    Everything else is past.
    Even now this.

  31. Amy Barlow Liberatore

    My "one of a kind" is Grandma Blanche:

    A Oner

    She was like no one else.
    She could strike up a conversation with anyone
    from a passerby to the president.

    During the Great Depression,
    she fed every transient who came to the back door,
    even if it meant going without dinner herself.

    An avid crossword puzzler and voracious reader,
    she read her way through the entire Chicago Library.
    Twice.

    She gave me the best advice; it adhered:
    “At a wedding, never treat the mother of the bride any better
    than you treat the guy schlepping the hors d’oeuvres.”

    Manic-depressive in the Bad Old Days,
    she stayed at countless mental hospitals
    and endured more shock treatments than Frankenstein’s monster.

    She could drink any man under the table
    and still have room for a refill or two.

    Her lips were thin and shaded with violet lipstick,
    Georgette Klinger, and her hats were modest but lovely.

    She won all arguments, settled many feuds, and
    managed to stay married to her philandering husband, Bill,
    by doing the same, as she felt the need for company or revenge.

    She hung out with anyone who had a good story
    or a good song, and she was a killer at poker.

    She lived for social justice, a good party, and a belly laugh,
    not necessarily in that order, and never could understand
    why we didn’t all embrace socialism.

    She was my grandmother, Blanche, and
    she is my inspiration, my guardian angel.
    God rest you, Blanche. I only hope you don’t still
    throw fry pans at Bill in heaven.

    © 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

  32. Catherine Lee

    Only time to skim a few tonight.

    Andrew – Thank you! "Astronaut" just about ripped my heart out.

    Joseph Harker – You are killing it! Your poetry is absolutely genius.

    Buddah – Your poem was definitely in my personal space. Great job.

    de & Pearl – You gals are machines. The two of you put out so much good work each day.

  33. Gerardine Baugh

    And I thought, I couldn’t write a poem worse than the one I did the a couple days ago, well I was wrong.. this is for "only
    one in the world" prompt.

    “Slightly Nuts”

    I’ve been out here for hours, now
    It’s raining and the cold mud pulls me down
    Into boggy depths of the alien world
    Thriving along this desolate country road
    There is a creature here,
    I need to find it
    It is the only one in the world
    The only one left of its kind
    And it is after my cookies
    That is why I am here hunting it

  34. Nina B. Lanctot

    @ Jane Shlensky and Joseph Harker: I was very intrigued by the two poems about dying languages. Each of your poems is rooted in a similar concern, yet the scope and style of each is so different. Intriguing.

    @ Jane, I also really loved the story poem of the box which held the gift of pearls. The poem is one more layer of saving it, yes?

    @ Jaqueline: “Juan” was more than a play on words. Thanks once again, Jaqueline, for your insights and crafting and tenderness to the edges of life.

    @ Lori and Daniel: I also was drawn by poems to love the object the poet honored in words. Thanks to Lori Thatcher for the Magnolia and to Daniel Paicopulos for the Santa Rosa plum tree.

    I am learning so much by reading you excellent writers. I have the feeling that the effects of this month will sink in over a longer haul of time. For April I only wish I didn’t have a "day job."

    Sweet dreams…

  35. Buddah Moskowitz

    Hello Talented writers:

    A special shout out and speechless gratitude to Dan for writing the one and only poem ever written for me. Sir, I am truly honored (I actually liked being a Markowitz – cracked me and Mrs Moskowitz up).

    As for the rest of you, I am so grateful for your sharing with the world your thoughts. I’d love to have you all over for Sunday lunch (If you’re Christian, then we’ll celebrate Easter).

    Walt Wojtanik
    Jerry Walraven
    Kyhaara
    Daniel Paicopulos
    Connie L. Peters
    de jackson
    Paula Wanken
    Jane Shlensky
    PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik
    Michelle Hed
    Cresta McGowan
    Rox
    Patricia A. Hawkenson
    Sally Jadlow
    Sara V
    Catherine Lee
    Nikki Markle
    Kendall A. Bell

    To my Christian brethren, May you be blessed by these holy days, and to my non-Christian brethren, may you know the grace of Christ wherever you are.

    Love, el Mosk

  36. Nina B. Lanctot

    ECHOES OF ONE THREE DOG NIGHT (Fib)

    one
    is
    the lone-
    liest, the
    number one is the
    loneliest, the number one is

    THE HORIZON (Shadorma)

    Horizons
    Frame every point of
    View, none the
    Same, but one
    Outer limit of earth to
    Hold all perspectives.

  37. Benjamin Thomas

    There Can Be Only One You

    There can be only one.
    One what?
    You.
    There is only one You.
    You are the most unique
    Person in the world.
    Because you’re You
    And like no other.
    Indispensable.

  38. Benjamin Thomas

    Walt: thanks for yesterday’s mention.

    Robert: Enjoyed your Good Friday poem.

    Having a tough and very busy week. Today is the first day I contemplated skipping writing a poem for a day. God forbid!

    I’ll attempt to post something shortly then hit the sack.

  39. Corinne

    Snuck (sneaked?) a quick peek… Buddah, you captured the concept I wanted to go with so exquisitely! I just didn’t have the emotional energy for it today. Thank you for your lack of separation from my thoughts.

  40. Corinne

    Inny, outie
    ticklish, adorned,
    full of lint.
    Only
    one
    prerequisite
    for being human:
    the belly button.

    Still gotta catch up from yesterday. I’m on full time with my dad this weekend, so haven’t had a lot of time to get on here and read and comment.

    Happy poeming everyone! Missing you!

  41. Jane Shlensky

    thanks for mention, Andrew. Buddah, when you’re right, you’re right. Linda S-W and Nikki, loved Second Shift and Barefoot on Gravel. Now, goodnight, de; goodnight, Buddah; goodnight, Andrew and MiskMask, Robert and Nancy, Walt and Daniel; goodnight johnboy…yawn.

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