2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 8

For today’s prompt, write a ready to celebrate poem.  You could chronicle the actual celebration or even write about the anticipation of one.  As many of you know, I am in Austin, Texas this weekend celebrating poetry myself, but I’m also checking in regularly here to enjoy the celebration on Poetic Asides. 


Here is my attempt:

“The Helicopters”

Fly in groups of three.
Then, the sirens pass,
and the searchlights search
while the children dance
to songs their parents
sing them to soothe them
and keep the clouds out
of their little heads.

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0 thoughts on “2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 8

  1. Dennis Wright

    I Celebrate

    I celebrate the sun.
    It anoints me with
    a sacred balm of knowing –
    when I do not know.
    I celebrate the sun.
    It soils me in blindness
    when I claim what is so.

    I celebrate the moon
    in all of its mystery.
    Could I find you there
    and still find me?
    I celebrate the moon
    while it hides its mercy –
    and seems gone from here.

    And I celebrate the rain.
    Even as the soot of the city
    pours down with each drop
    and I can not know or be.
    I celebrate the rain.
    It gives me but half a tale,
    ‘tween knowing and thee.

  2. LBC

    To Jillian on Commencement Day May 14, 2011

    You wore your high school accomplishments
    embroidered in gold letters
    on the back of your black varsity jacket
    into your college semesters.
    Amid students stumbling to class, you stayed the course,
    you were, after all, a Champion; the jacket proclaimed that.
    Your heart beat in time with the rhythm
    of flip-flops against your soul,
    your feet finding freedom in your new college-girl style.
    Winter snows melted into lilac blossoms four times over,
    your picture puzzle put together piece by piece:
    English major, Shakespearian influence,
    legal twenty-one, term paper A’s,
    new best friends, faculty support, family connections strengthened,
    all night library soirees secured your status of honor insuring
    thesis statement complete.
    Moments became memories,
    milestones marked with celebrations, certificates, smiles, and the occasional beer.
    That black varsity jacket became
    distant memories, yet still so vivid embroidered in gold ,
    pushed to the back of the closet.

    For today you wear your university accomplishments
    around your shoulders over a black academic robe.
    Gold stole, purple symbols, cords of honor
    Posing for portraits, you radiate an air of royalty.
    Your heart beats in time with the staccato of your sophisticated heels.
    With swagger, a sparkle, you stroll across the stage
    grasping a diploma, accepting congratulations,
    a shimmering display of the woman you have become.
    A degree of distinction sets you apart from the rest.

    Though in your eyes graduation represents an end,
    look beyond
    on Commencement Day
    as your next adventure comes into view.
    But before you set off in the new direction,
    Take a moment to
    stand in the sun and shine.

  3. Michelle Guerra

    Feliz Cumpleanos a ti!

    Feliz Cumpleanos a ti!
    Happy Birthday to you!
    Feliz Cumpleanos Writer’s Digest!
    Happy Birthday to you!
    Ten years!
    Te quiero!

  4. Rose Anna Hines


    C ells sweeping nasty bugs out
    E nergy coming back
    L ungs clearing
    E asy pain free muscles moving
    B owels being normal
    R apid recovery
    A actual food
    T ummy’s calm
    E yes that can stay open for an hour without sleep


  5. K Kerns

    8 April Celebrating Poetry

    The DayDreamer

    Once upon a time I was a dreamer
    White waters rushed me onward
    Strong winds blustered my airship about
    Fast boats skittered me toward lands unknown
    And great locomotives rumbled through my soul

    But it was the rumblings that I loved the most
    The giant discs of steel and that thick black smoke
    Blasting skyward, the high piercing whistle
    Instilling both fear and excitement and the sheer
    Power of it all as the huge bulk of steel rolled on
    Cutting a metal path across the American wilderness

    Even now when the sun is set and the land is dark
    Through the open window rumbles the heart beat
    Of the descendant of the Iron Horse, its thunderous
    Sounds of steel on steel is the lullaby that ushers
    Me into that dreamscape where once more I am the
    Adventurer, the world traveler and the conquering hero ~

  6. Susan M. Bell

    The Day We Were Married

    The happiest day of my life
    Took place in a courthouse
    You and me
    And a Justice of the Peace
    No one else there to witness
    The day we were married
    And every year
    We celebrate together
    No bit parties or gatherings
    And that’s as it should be
    This life we have built
    Every struggle
    Every hurdle
    We’ve made it through together
    You and me
    We started along all those years ago
    And so we continue
    A celebration of each other

  7. G. Smith

    (A Kautata)
    (c) 2011 – G. Smith
    Lay the light cahill
    Lightly at the shadowed pool;
    Watch as one rises to strike.

  8. ChapLynn

    Celebrate Life

    We wait with anticipation
    She waits in incubation
    Mommy swelling with pride
    A generation growing inside
    Nurtured by time
    Heritage – mine
    Daughter – grand
    my first

  9. Scott Mesrobian

    Champagne On Ice

    The people stood in the cold night,
    Huddled together and clapping with gloved hands.
    They cheered and the chanted
    As their heroes on the field of battle
    Played out the final act of their drama.
    One more pitch and the batter would be out
    And the champagne would flow.
    But the batter swung and ball rolled
    Under the fielder’s glove.
    The winning run scored
    And the champagne stayed on ice.

  10. Arrvada

    The Joy of Me

    I will celebrate today
    The joy that is me!
    My birthday looms
    Up ahead and thirty-two I’ll be!
    I am no longer afraid of aging
    As I once was long ago
    In my twenties.
    The fear of birthdays
    Way back then
    Used to strike me with great
    Terror and fear
    I dreaded each added year
    The realization of my mortality
    So terrifying.
    Now, as I become older
    I embrace each birthday
    Enjoying the year I have lived
    And looking forward to
    The newest one spread out
    Before me to explore.

  11. Dheepikaa


    When they all gather, the girls and boys
    split in two groups, to exert their power
    then with songs they’ll each other destroy
    causing at least one or two romance flower.
    They sing starting from ‘ka’, ‘kha’, ‘ga’, ‘gha’, ‘nga’
    starting each ghana from where the other ends
    music from mouths listing love, lust and lehenga
    oldies shaking hips, youngies clapping hands;
    throwing arrows from far, targeting pretty eyes
    a secret lechery where electric currents pass,
    through tapping feet, some vocal noise
    recurring beat at a rusty wedding in old Madras.

  12. Jay Sizemore


    Grey or green, this one or that one,
    do you like this, here or there,
    day or night, write a check for this,
    do we need that, it’s more expensive,
    is the font too fluffy, which song,
    which mom, which poem, which friend,
    who’s taking the pictures, who’s baking
    the cake, did that taste better than this,
    chocolate or cherry, Bud or Bud Lite,
    tablecloths white or tablecloths black,
    did we make the right choice,
    did I pick the right dress,
    do you think it’s ghetto?
    All these questions,
    only one I know for sure
    what the right answer is.
    Do you? I do.

  13. alana sherman

    We Are Ready To Celebrate
    for Jane’s Bat Mitzvah

    We gather at Temple Sholom
    for this time honored ritual.
    And I remember when I was thirteen:
    my dress was white organza
    with pink polka dots and a pink sash.
    Only one girl here today has anything similar.
    The rest wear sleeveless sheathes
    neon pink or black and skin tight.
    Jane’s is black too, but for the ceremony
    she wears a jacket. She looks old!
    Her mother calls her an old soul.
    The organist, a black woman,
    gives voice to the ancient melodies like gospel,
    startles the whole congregation. We are here
    today to celebrate Jane’s new life
    as a woman. Her life proclaims her.
    We praise her as she takes her place—
    a new woman in a new world.

  14. de jackson

    Marie: Thanks so much, just caught your comment. And your beautiful poem. The little things truly are BIG, aren’t they? Thank you for sharing such a lovely glimpse at your sweet grand daughter.

  15. Joseph Beckman

    2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 7
    Posted by Robert

    For the next few days, I’ll be corresponding from Austin, Texas, which means Tammy will post my prompt and poem for me each morning. 


    For today’s prompt, write a "what if" poem.  It could be a "what if" from the past, present or future.  For instance, what if no one discovered electricity?  (How would we do this challenge?) 
    What if?
    What if, from birth, to my very old age,
    I behaved less a fool, and more a sage,
    To love and hold, not run and hide,
    To share open feelings, not my tough hide.
    What if, from death, I did learn how to cry,
    So life can then teach me the reason why,
    It’s not status, nor wealth that makes happiness,
    But the love of the Loved who share their True Kindness.

    © April 7, 2011 by Joseph Beckman

  16. Joseph Beckman

    2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 8
    Posted by Robert

    For today’s prompt, write a ready to celebrate poem.  You could chronicle the actual celebration or even write about the anticipation of one.  As many of you know, I am in Austin, Texas this weekend celebrating poetry myself, but I’m also checking in regularly here to enjoy the celebration on Poetic Asides. 

    I am ready to celebrate all my good cheer.
    I am ready to celebrate for all this long year.
    The kindness and love that flows through my day,
    From my lover- my wife, and my child as he says
    Daddy come here and help me with this,
    And my wife says come here as we share marital bliss.
    Yes I am ready to celebrate all my good cheer,
    but it must start right now, it can’t wait a year.
    © April 8, 2011 by Joseph Beckman

  17. Linda Simoni-Wastila

    When we first bought this house I remember worrying about all the bathrooms;
    with three people and one in diapers four toilets felt excessive. Fast forward
    to now, a potty a piece, and how when one malfunctions it sends us into tizzies,
    especially me, for although I can mow the lawn, cook dinner for twenty, and replace
    the engine oil it seems I can never place the plunger just right over the hole to free
    up the crapper from its tangles of paper and crud swirling in cyclones, so I stand
    by helpless, hopeless while you dash the plunger up and down with a violence I never
    muster until water circles to the Chesapeake unimpeded and you leave me to clean up
    spilled drops and my shame, until this morning when I attacked the porcelain bowl
    after last night’s lost battle and won. I did a victory dance but you had already left.

  18. Carol

    Glad to see I am not the only late one! My day is tomorrow actually!

    Birthday Cake

    Candles and napkins
    forks, knives and plates
    In the cold fridge
    with the ice cream it waits—
    chocolate icing,
    piping in pink
    rosebuds and ribbons
    quick as a wink
    we cut it in wedges
    and put onto plates
    a sumptuous serving
    of my birthday cake.

    Carol A. Stephen

  19. Diane

    Celebrating Family

    While writing a poem in the early morning dimness
    black and white silk lies across the page,
    bites the pencil, and rumbles softly.
    The cat gets his way.

    Cat asleep on my arm,
    pencil and paper recovered, I begin the poem again.
    Mom gets up, I smile and invite her in. We talk.
    She takes a nap beside me.
    I go back to the poem.

    Mom wakes up
    to go back to sleep–in her own room.
    I think about writing more of the poem
    but the children come in and climb under the covers,
    and the poem is set aside.

    We cuddle, nap, tickle, and tease;
    then I play ‘possum.
    Giggling, they get out my make-up.
    My "sleeping" face becomes the canvas for a painting.
    When the masterpiece is finished, the artists leave for breakfast.
    I begin the poem again,

    but the six-year-old wiggles back under the covers to get warm.
    The poem is abandoned,
    but family is celebrated,
    and in celebrating
    the poem is created.


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