2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 10

After writing your poems today, we’ll be a third of the way through this challenge. While I know some poets are just warming up, there are others who need encouragement to keep going. You can do it (and have been doing it): one poem at a time.

For today’s prompt, write a different perspective poem. There are a few ways a poet can tackle this one. First, write a poem from a different physical perspective–like from the top of a building or at the bottom of a hole or in the trunk of a car. Another possibility is to write from a different person’s (or animal’s or object’s) perspective–a tactic that has interesting results in fiction (think Grendel or Wicked). If you have an even different perspective on this than me, feel free to roll with it.

Here’s my attempt:

“Fish”

but you don’t understand
the way we worried, the way

we hurried here & there
without a care for ourselves

(we never care for ourselves)
or what might happen if

the water were to dry up
& leave us all flopping.

*****

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*****

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271 thoughts on “2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 10

  1. alana sherman

    Bird’s Eye View

    The artist paints
    and it looks
    real enough
    to walk into
    clouds parted,
    crescent moon
    clear but not as it should be
    if I were standing there
    I couldn’t see the looping
    outlines of foliage,
    the zigzag patterns
    of light as it falls
    on the dog roses –white
    and yellow centers laying
    on the ground where
    someone has been cutting
    to neaten the landscape
    the fallen nest revealed,
    four eggs, whole
    and flamboyantly delft.
    What bird
    has eggs this color?
    All so fanciful and
    still a living scene.

  2. whatevertheyaint

    The Hungry Attack Cat

    I hear them awaken and she hears me
    but chooses to ignore
    that I am meowing at the door
    I have kept the critters at bay
    and eaten mice away,
    yet hungry for more.
    So she best to implore,
    and bring on the vittles
    before I attack her too.

  3. NomiWrites

    The Masquerade

    If I had known the power a woman holds over a man
    I would have asked for what I want
    I would have walked into a room with choice in my heart
    Not waiting to see who would notice me
    I would have claimed space in the world

    Abuse teaches power
    You are dangerous enough to cause harm
    So you do
    Or you don’t
    But you know you hold within you
    The power to disrupt another’s world

    When you have learned to fear your own power
    The world tricks you into silence
    You shout up from the pit of despair
    Wanting to be seen / not seen
    Wanting to be rescued / left alone

    In the mask of my imagined self
    I choose the world I inhabit
    Fetal power demands attention, caring
    The power of the powerless
    Warrior power requires vigilance
    Medusa paralyzing all who gaze upon her
    Athena offering gifts to feed the world
    Isis in search of phallic satisfaction
    Diana, the maiden huntress, all in one

    The eyes I look with
    Determine what I see
    It is time for a new pair of glasses

  4. Andrea Z

    Ack! I’m six poems behind! Here’s a poem from the perspective of my dog… 🙂

    ~Life of Onyx~

    I watch her closely
    as she unwraps that meat;
    I picked up the scent
    from my spot on the living room rug.
    I lay down at her feet by the counter
    watching as she cooks it,
    mouth watering, and waiting
    for a delicious piece
    to fall to the floor
    and be mine!

  5. Anita Murphy

    The Mow

    Smell of hay in my nose
    Pitchfork shoves it down the hole
    The mare she chews and I lay on my back
    Dust in the light that shines through the cracks
    Fluttering birds in their nests
    Yellow cat curled up to rest

  6. RJ Clarken

    On Being My Elf-Self

    I think t’would be a bit o’fun
    if I could be a leprechaun.
    I’d dress in green; I’d not grow old.
    I’d own a magic pot o’gold.

    And, oh the tricks I’d get to play
    on folks who’d try to steal away
    me special cache, as t’was foretold:
    me glitt’ry sparklin’ pot o’gold.

    You couldna catch me. No sirree!
    Not with a rope, nor trap nor key.
    You couldna ever get ahold
    of me or my sweet pot o’gold.

    Look over yonder rainbow – hark!
    And is that me? A question mark.
    For if you find me, you’ll behold
    me magic prize: a pot o’gold.

    ###

  7. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    (ok, 3rd and final try, using some newer but simpler PRE code snippets….let’s see if everything lines up better…crossing fingers and toes here…..)

    Conversations in Suicide
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Husband: Wife:

    It’s better this way. How could you do this to me?

    It was so easy, hardly hurt. The first few days were numbing.

    Put the gun to my head Then came the service
    and suddenly it’s over. and the pain of realization.
    I’m so afraid now, and so lonesome.

    I thought I would be happy. I miss him so much. It’s unbearable.

    I thought it would be better, I’m thinking of maybe joining you,
    anything’s got to be better than this
    existence.

    but it’s not.

    a lesson in counter-point © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

      ok, that was a disaster. Lesson here: don’t rely on the PRE (preformatted) tag or snippet. Better off with BR (break) and BLOCKQUOTE (space) tags used earlier. Not perfect, but getting there. Good to know.

  8. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    (ok, 2nd try, minus some apparently redundant code snippets….let’s see if the line breaks match up better)

    Conversations in Suicide
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Husband:

    Wife:

    It’s better this way.

    How could you do this to me?

    It was so easy, hardly hurt.

    The first few days were numbing.

    Put the gun to my head

    Then came the service

    and suddenly it’s over.

    and the pain of realization.

    I’m so afraid now, and so lonesome.

    I thought I would be happy.

    I miss him so much. It’s unbearable.

    I thought it would be better,

    I’m thinking of maybe joining you,

    anything’s got to be better than this
    existence.

    but it’s not.

    a lesson in counter-point © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

      and this version without all the redundant …….as you can see, doesn’t make any difference, still the same screwy format…..hmmmm…..would be nice to figure this out for all of our sakes…..well, all of us interested in wanting our poems to remain in the same format posted as was composed.

  9. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Conversations in Suicide
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Husband:

    Wife:

    It’s better this way.

    How could you do this to me?

    It was so easy, hardly hurt.

    The first few days were numbing.

    Put the gun to my head

    Then came the service

    and suddenly it’s over.

    and the pain of realization.

    I’m so afraid now, and so lonesome.

    I thought I would be happy.

    I miss him so much. It’s unbearable.

    I thought it would be better,

    I’m thinking of maybe joining you,

    anything’s got to be better than this
    existence.

    but it’s not.

    a lesson in counter-point © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  10. Marian O'Brien Paul

    The View from Inside my Head

    “Okay, Darth. You’re going to get
    what you’ve got coming. Don’t try
    to call that guy to come to your aid
    who claims he’s not the Anti-Christ.

    “Wha? What? Who’s that?” Oh it’s
    that woman who says she’s my mom
    interrupting my confrontations again.
    She won’t let me finish. Annoying.

    She refuses to understand I’m not her
    son. I’ve explained how I was cloned,
    dragged from bed on that dark night,
    stabbed until dead, then replicated.

    That makes her my grandmother or
    maybe my sister or aunt … “What?
    I should just call you ‘Mom’ since
    it’s easier and true? Okay, Mom.”

    And anyway, I like to see her eyes
    brighten up when she smiles and I
    smile and it makes me hurt inside
    when things I say make her cry.

    Besides, at times I think she could
    really be my mother. No one else
    bothers to visit and she remembers
    things that I recall from my youth.

  11. Iain Douglas Kemp

    “The Landlords’” Point of View

    He’s sleeping
    sit on him
    he’s moving
    bite him
    he’s getting up
    follow him
    he’s going in the cupboard
    miaow at him
    he’s feeding us
    purr at him
    that’s his job
    ignore him
    he’s going out…
    …sleep or fight?
    wait for him

    Iain

  12. taylor graham

    CEDAR STUMP

    He never noticed me. I sat
    by the oak he chose for hanging –
    its limb bowed down
    by the weight of his passing.

    There came men with maps
    and compasses to find
    him. More men with cameras
    and notepads, a woman

    with a microphone:
    What was it like to find him?
    What was he trying to escape,
    to take this way out?

    No one thought to ask me.
    And I’ll never tell.
    No one can hang himself
    from a cedar stump –

    a stump that’s seen it all.
    Mute as stone, dead enough
    to speak of seeds green
    beyond an oak tree’s hanging.

  13. Michelle Hed

    Raw Deal

    From my perspective,
    I had been delivered a raw deal.
    I’m a good person,
    try to be kind
    and generous –
    So why me?
    I’m sure there is some bad person
    who deserves this more than me.

    Wait!
    What a twisted perspective,
    if I’m so kind,
    how could I even think a bad person
    deserved this more than I?
    Do I really wish this on another human being?

    Took me awhile to change my perspective –
    I had a lot of self-pity to wade through,
    but the reality is – no.
    No, I would never wish this on another
    human being.

    So, I’m still a kind person,
    who is human and has occasional negative thoughts.
    Why am I on the receiving end of this raw deal?
    What raw deal? Shit happens.
    I would rather live life to the fullest
    then spend my remaining time
    drowning in self-pity.

  14. Arielle Lancaster-LaBrea

    When a beer bottle becomes a heckler

    Stop ignoring us, bitch.
    My brothers and I have been sitting back here
    in the far reaches of this cold air for months
    and you haven’t bothered to even pick one of us
    up and run your finger over our tops, let alone
    open us and send us down your warm insides.
    We are the perfect crutch for you right now.
    Swallow one of us, and forget what’s on your mind.
    Swallow five of us, and things will cloud over
    a little more and you won’t have to worry about
    things like proper judgment or responsibility
    or those other guys in the box in the back of
    your nightstand. Those assholes don’t taste as
    good and you have to fire them up just to get
    them to be worth a shit. You’ve pushed them away
    like you did to us, but you’ll come back.
    Your life is too fucked up to not come back to us.

  15. Glory

    Benjamin

    I am independent, but I love company,
    to be stroked is pure heaven; warmth
    and comfort on a well-made bed.

    Few words escape my lips, speech,
    I leave it to those that love to hear
    their own voice. Maybe Madge?

    Well perhaps she does overdo her
    speaking part, but, her cooking is
    absolutely fabulous. Tit-bits I love.

    The tastiest of morsels, like chicken
    off the bone, savoury mince, and milk
    at any time, a bowl that’s full.

    I hate to be disturbed, pulled, and
    most of all to feel bony fingers through
    my silken hair. Strange how some fingers

    can tickle, and some really scratch.
    A deep scratch behind my ears, is a delight,
    And like a loose lady, I’ll purr for anyone.

    I like the garden, well any garden will
    do as long as there are plenty of birds
    about. Such fun, I love to chase them.

    Sometimes I catch one, it feels soft,
    kinda funny, furry and warm and
    I can feel it beating, a sort of tick-tock.

    When the beat stops, I hide it behind
    the bushes. I don’t want Madge to see it.
    She goes berserk, silly woman,

    doesn’t she know I’m a cat.

  16. Tracy Davidson

    It’s the way you tell them

    Dog: “Woof, woof, woof.”
    Cat: “Miaow.”

    Dog: “Woof, woof.”
    Cat: “Miaow.”

    Dog: “Woof, woof…woof, woof!”
    Cat: “Mia-owwwww!”

    Parrot: “Dumb mutt,
    he ruined the punchline again.”

  17. PSC in CT

    Hmmm… quickest way to get caught up? Haiku! Sorry, but it works for me. 😉 I am almost there… posting yesterday’s & picking up today’s prompt. Still hoping for time to read & comment… soon… maybe?. But, for now, I am off and running again, so here is my moon’s view of the sky & earth. :-]

    Vue de la Lune

    Pretty little orb
    bides in sea of silver stars
    Beauty dressed in blue

    – – –
    ps: “You are posting comments too quickly. Slow down.” ?? :-O
    Not sure what that means — or why I’m getting it, but… trying again.

  18. Penny Henderson

    MY CHARACTER

    I wish you’d write me faster.
    My life is frozen like plaster
    friezes in some old Greek temple.

    If you’ll just take pen in hand,
    I’ll tell you how it should end.
    Wake up girl–get me round the bend

  19. claudia marie clemente

    Oops, another correction, have a fever and it must be boggling my eyes.

    the lamp

    death, my father
    would say, was closing
    your body, tight, into a closet
    and turning out the light.

    father, at your funeral,
    judge kane at the pulpit,
    your body exposed in the box,
    behind you both a floor lamp flickered,

    dimmed low to off, then, off to on;
    body boxed, your death came back
    to say, no! the closet door closes
    but on walls made of light!

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