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2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 12

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Something (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Example titles might include: “Something New,” “Something Strange,” “Something at the End of This Book,” or “Something Something.”

Here’s my attempt:

“Something Exceptional”

the kite or the string holding
the kite or the person holding
the kite by a string? holding
the kite like the wind, holding
the kite as if leaving, holding
the kite is a kid who holding
the kite feels he’s no longer held…


Write Science Fiction & Fantasy…

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406 thoughts on “2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 12

  1. mschied

    Something heart-stopping

    softly floating on cushions of
    rose petals
    stuffed with lilac blossoms

    translucent murmuring
    water caresses your mind
    soothing whispering
    thoughts of sunshine and harmony

    basking in the drowsy warmth
    of spun fantasies and rainbow reveries
    head gently cushioned
    upon downy dreams


    The alarm goes off

  2. Jamal Abboud

    something of regret.

    I will always remember,
    to persuade myself to forget,
    something of random regret,
    for ancient images still linger.

    Distilled from dreams of days,
    When I was silent and younger,
    creeping dearly to be a stranger,
    Thinking I decided novel ways,

    Images those meddle duly in vain,
    To bring me back my innocence,
    My fancies and sighs of indolence.
    But what passed, brings more pain.

    When perception tends to be late,
    Manipulated by unclouded choice,
    with a sound taken for a voice.
    Far drifted, I loaf on paths to fate.

    Thus feeble, I float on a logic flood,
    Lost among places like paradise,
    With acrid tales of open blind eyes,
    Reciting words those swiftly scud.

  3. Marian O'Brien Paul

    “Something Tells Me . . .”

    Something tells me I should give up.
    No amount of logic will help me win
    this argument if the Emperor doesn’t
    follow how I reason. Armageddon,
    he insists, not only occurred in 2003
    but also World War III. How else
    would he now be World Emperor?
    According to his Imperial Word,
    for three days, world wrath raged –
    well, he amended, three nights and
    two whole days. A pall of darkness
    covered the world and made it hard
    to tell if day began or night ended.

    “But Jeff, “I say, “if that’s true, why
    don’t I remember it? Wouldn’t I have
    noticed?” Unfazed, he says, “It was
    dark, Mom. Of course, you couldn’t
    see it.” My tongue quick, I say, “But
    afterward there’d be demolished cities,
    rubble, battlefields littered with dead.”
    “Mom,” he says, “where’s your faith?
    Don’t you know God can do anything?
    He cleaned up the mess and replaced
    everything. The Bible says at the end
    of the world, God will resurrect us all
    from the dead. That’s what happened.”

    As I said above, something tells me
    to just give up. I won’t convince him.

  4. Pat Carroll Marcantel

    Something Luminous

    There is a line that marches on

    it seems into infinity, if only I could

    tell you what infinity is. Even if I

    don’t know, it doesn’t matter.

    The line goes on and some people even

    try to count, add up the numbers, but

    the numbers never match. Does that

    matter either? I don’t know. Neither do I

    know if in that line, they are separated

    into categories. You know how we folk like

    to categorize–we major on it. I’ve not asked

    that question. Has the line reached the number

    of the German camps? Another unanswered

    question. Or perhaps I just missed the answer?

    One thing only I know for certain: I see the line

    because there is luminosity emanating from each

    tiny body. Wave upon wave of velvet light, caresses

    my face as I reach out. Dream upon dream

    I see them. And then I wake. My children fuss at me

    because they’ve given up trying to understand:

    “Mom, you ought to wear a veil across your face.

    Some of that sparkly dust is going



    into the

    pancake batter.

  5. Caren

    Something…in the Water.

    Two notes, like a single heart beat, a glimpse,
    A shadow, that uneasy feeling creeps
    Into your stomach, the beat increases
    Something brushes past bare legs and startles,
    Too far from shore; just try to keep afloat.
    The beat again, a tug, a gasp, shock, fear
    Screaming will do no good, it’s too late now.
    No real comprehension of the nightmare
    Unfolding beneath the surface, gasp, splash!
    Then silence. Relax, it’s just a movie.

    Caren E. Salas

  6. tunesmiff


    You know I never,
    Thought I’d see this day,
    And that I always,
    Hoped you’d feel this way,
    But only for me,
    Not somebody new,
    I guess that makes me,
    Your something blue.

    I saw you
    Walk the aisle,
    I saw your pretty smile,
    I heard you say, “I do,”
    How can it be true?
    You used to
    Care for me,
    Now I’m what
    Used to be,
    You found your borrowed and new,
    And I’m your something blue.

    I know you never,
    Wanted a diamond ring,
    And I thought you always,
    Told me everything,
    It seems on this, I never had a clue,
    I guess that makes me,
    Your something blue.

    I saw you
    Walk the aisle,
    I saw your
    Pretty smile,
    I heard you say, “I do,”
    How can that be true?
    You used to
    Care for me,
    Now I’m what
    Used to be;
    You found your borrowed and new,
    and I’m your something blue.

    You borrowed my heart a while,
    Until that got old,
    You found a new love,
    When you thought ours had grown cold,
    I’ll try to be happy,
    Even though I’ll miss you,
    I guess that makes me,
    Your something blue;

    I guess that makes me,
    Your something blue.

  7. stop_stopping

    an orange peeled and
    porous– vapors
    fill the back seat of the car.

    We sit, engine stalled in a lot
    where Macy’s used to be. we get out
    to throw rocks at the windows, put values
    on each level–

    tired we sit, back to back
    legs stretched out on the
    lifting concrete beneath us

    our breathing deep and arrhythmic,
    shadows stretching east–
    we close our eyes, thankful we are here
    and not where they expect us to be

  8. Jane Beal - sanctuarypoet.net

    Something Beautiful

    I step outside the door and see
    the bright red hearts
    of two Northern Cardinals
    are flirting in the green trees
    of Shady Lane

    and I remember our spirits
    are alive and speaking to one another
    across the vast distances
    of space and time
    and spring, opening.

    Jane Beal

  9. Katrin

    Something Riveting

    It wasn’t really a journey
    nor a circus act,
    but the day’s happenings
    were beginning to circle
    like musk oxen,
    gathering and protecting,
    the youngest in the middle
    perplexed but excited by
    all pressing and breathing,
    as future moments began to
    appear on ragged horizon,
    mounted on conceptual horses
    reigned with prophecy,
    and the edicts of preparation
    were issued
    through a megaphone
    of hoarse and sing-songy

  10. PSC in CT

    Running behind and trying to catch up. This needs more work, but no time, so…

    Something You Don’t See Every Day

    Have you ever seen butterflies spread upon bread?
    or sat through a Hippo Ballet?
    Do you think a skunk might — if the price was just right –
    scent her drawers with skunk cabbage sachet?

    Would rainbow trout swim in a blue summer sky?
    Could wingtip boots possibly learn how to fly?
    Might a blue whale wear pink, do you think, to amuse?
    Or a mermaid, wear fishnets and salt water shoes?

    Would a chorus of hummingbirds hum a whole song?
    Could an inchworm grow up to be twelve inches long?
    While I’ve never seen any of these up ‘til now
    it’s true that I really would like to — and how!

    And, if I ever saw one, I know just what I’d say:
    “There’s something, by gosh, you don’t see every day!”

  11. Joseph Harker

    I really thought I posted this yesterday, but apparently was unsuccessful. D’oh.


    Some thing
    is always dying, somewhere.
    The rabbit breaking into a gentle lope
    when surprised among the lamb’s ear bouquets;
    pear flowers showing their skeletons of twigs
    and young leaves; the light, lost behind the roofs.
    Dying slowly or quickly, in ways
    of the body, or not of the body: some things we
    can comprehend.

    Others, we
    cannot: some thing is always
    undying, somewhere. A miraculous blue-green
    when the spotted storms vanish;
    long filaments of genetics constantly changing;
    the canvas everything is scrawled on.
    Time looms like a solid frown of rock,
    and the world, the waterfall tumbling down,
    always new and always ancient.

    To be balanced between the two: that is
    us. We are cursed with
    paired eyes and paired hands
    for giving and receiving at once.
    Some things
    are too much for us to bear: knowledge of death,
    miracle of life. But we manage to keep going,
    somehow. All things pulled taut will come,
    eventually, full circle.

  12. Arrvada

    Something Recycled

    My soul it seems had done this before
    Lived, breathed, cried, died
    Am I living again?
    Recycled back into this world
    Did I make a mistake so I have to live again?
    Or was it my choice to tread once more
    On the mortal realm?
    Did I leave things undone
    Leave lessons unlearned?
    Have I failed or did I succeed and simply choose
    To walk again in mortal shoes?
    Have I lived before
    And if I did
    What did I know that I have forgotten now
    Have I forgotten
    Or do I still know?
    Was I recycled on purpose
    Or was it a cosmic mistake?
    Next time perhaps
    I’ll get to come back as a snake

  13. Annette Mickelson

    Something Brown

    Something brown from a bright foil wrapper
    melts into velvet dark richness.
    Something brown lies across my legs
    fleecy, thick and warm.
    Something brown burns bright
    hot amber dancing orange.
    Something brown and grey and red
    hops on the patio rail
    dodging drops of rain on a dark day.

  14. ceeess

    Something Old, Something Borrowed

    It doesn’t feel borrowed and so too easily spent,
    the three years since I somehow cheated the dark
    already closing the door between us when they told me
    how close I’d come to passing to the other side.

    It’s an old story now, one to move beyond
    into simple pleasures, how the world is now
    how light touches the face, how sun is warm
    tomorrow when I wake another year will pass

    it too will become old, the new year yet one more
    borrowed thing. And still, I wish for new feathers.
    Sweep them lightly across the sky to kiss them softly blue.

    Carol A. Stephen
    April 12, 2012

  15. dextrousdigits

    Something Some thing

    Some thing happened today
    I want to talk about
    I need help with
    it made my day
    I can’t find words to describe it
    I can’t stop thinking about

    Some thing
    needs to be cleaned up
    is getting old and needs to be replaced
    is dirty and needs to be cleaned
    is on sale, I just have to get it
    just can’t wait

    Some thing came up
    now I have to go take care of it.

  16. Bruce Niedt

    I wasn’t happy with my poem yesterday so I wrote two more. One also follows the NaPoWriMo prompt to write a “translitic” poem, but the other is just for Robert’s prompt. The first one is based on “Maxe 2″ by Michele Metail.

    Something Coming Down

    You arrive on a convoy of importance,
    crossing streets, as luminaries line
    the entire course through the town
    that repeats your name, the proper term
    for a voyager who advances our imagination.
    At the premiere, you plan an entry dance for two.
    You pass strangers, produce indecision
    in your advance with your retinue of franchise,
    yet you are hesitant in the long run,
    where the definite looms disheveled,
    and that precise inventor, the soul,
    announces your income as a ruse,
    and a litany of memories is caught astray.

    Something to Talk About

    It was one of your biggest hits, Bonnie,
    but long before that you’d paid your dues.
    When most of your peers formed garage bands,
    you hung out with old blues men and women,
    and learned your chops on bottleneck guitar.
    You played dinky clubs and coffee houses
    and formed a following, but mainstream fame
    eluded you, and you endured rough patches.
    Then one night you brought home
    an armful of Grammys, and really gave them
    something to talk about. Who is this chick?
    most of the world wondered, but those of us
    who already knew were proud of you.

    Life is more comfortable now, but you’re still
    out there recording and touring with your band,
    leading them with your whiskey-honey voice,
    your sharp, slim features,
    your red mane with the shock of white,
    and the sexy glissando of your slide guitar.

  17. Rosemary Nissen-Wade

    Something Intense

    My horoscope said, ‘Today
    there will be an intense
    conversation. You must
    express your views.’

    I waited all day. Only
    the bland and average,
    the practical, necessary,
    everyday exchanges.

    Then, that night, on TV,
    the documentary — Australia
    and the war in Vietnam. ‘Oh look,
    I’m there!’ I said, pointing.

    But it was only a glimpse, just a few
    of the women from Save Our Sons.
    ‘They didn’t show me,’ I said,
    ‘But I was there that day.’

    ‘What were you doing there?’
    I stared at him. ‘I was holding up
    a placard. I was standing
    with the others. I was protesting.

    ‘I remember, I was about
    eight months pregnant.’ ‘Oh, you silly
    thing,’ he said indulgently. Then
    our conversation became intense.

  18. HannaAnna

    Something Dreaded

    Creating the idea
    and writing it down
    Will it be good enough this time?

    Characters… conflict… description
    Will it be enough?

    The endless possibilities
    It could be here or there
    It could be great or terrible

    Excitement… greater dread

  19. Margot Suydam

    Something You Already Know

    We tiptoe on flowers, the accidents
    small children shouldering the clouds

    careening you heavy as we witness
    your disarray untouchable yet placed

    with blind courtesy among the weeds
    you made us pluck to neaten hedgerows

    as you made us curtsy knobby knees
    before the demons scratching your brain

    the deposit made, you loosened us
    to sail into grand domiciles of air

    where we still float avoiding storm
    tucked in tricky with new bedfellows

  20. shann

    something in the way

    she moves into my line of sight
    & takes the air out of the room,
    the piccolo part out of my Souza.

    It’s hardly enough razzamatazz
    to make it worth anyone’s while,
    least of all 1st trumpet, 2nd chair.

    What’s a flourish without a high
    scattershot melody hung out
    over the brass-by-golly bravado?

    An unfinished chord progression,
    that’s what, Sherlock, parse the parts
    get the blow going, toot sweet!

    Stars and Stripes have been known
    to choke even the most cynical heart
    we like to tear up at the rallentando.

    So keep your hands to yourself, sister!
    Music may not be as tough as poetry,
    but it’s what I’ve been doing, a long time.

  21. David Yockel Jr.

    Something Else I Forgot

    There will always be
    something I forget.
    There are just not enough
    lines to hold
    the swarms of singing
    swallows, the colors
    of the summer sun,
    or all of our questions
    about God.

  22. Janet Rice Carnahan


    With a busy head,
    Endless dread,
    It is hard to stop,
    For fear we’ll drop,
    Too much to do,
    Seek all things new,
    Faster tech,
    What the heck,
    Family demands,
    Not enough hands,
    Easy defeat,
    Totally beat feet,
    Who can remember?
    From now ‘til December,
    Time to breathe,
    Not just grieve,
    Just sit down,
    Clear the frown,
    Pull up a seat,
    Let the moment complete,
    End the chatter,
    Let no thing matter,
    Calm the mind,
    Gentle peace to find,
    Drop the shoulders,
    Let go the boulders,
    Feel a gentle breeze,
    Release all fear and mental doubt,
    (Cease any deep need to shout),
    Use your breath to go in and out!
    Consciously breathing the steady breath . . .

    None of us can live without!

  23. TezfromOz


    Five notes from a guitar
    “Something …”
    “… in the way she moves”

    Five notes
    And the crowd went wild

    What a feeling … to have created something so beloved and wonderful

  24. Christod

    Something Blue

    There was something that she
    couldn’t quite poke a finger at
    so she slipped it under and felt
    for the guts that pulled the knot
    tighter than her head could catch
    up to

    until she felt something slip among
    the mess and pulled it out,
    not expecting to see the gold loop
    resting on her palm.

  25. seingraham

    Something About Missing You Is Different This Time

    The house is a stranger to my bones and the dog
    Is out of sorts; I would say he is depressed
    If I didn’t know better, the way he’s been moping
    Round the living room, couch to floor and back to couch

    In the morning he doesn’t even raise his head when
    I come down the stairs; it’s as if he’s mooning after you
    More than I am; my feelings would be hurt but I understand
    We both keep listening for your key in the door …

    And last night, I had the baby boys for awhile and their aunt
    Came to help me; the youngest was in a bad way – he must have
    Missed you terribly, he was just howling down the house
    Worse than ever before; I think our daughter was surprised

    By the ferocity of the baby’s pain and anger… that maybe we
    Had exaggerated this wee lad’s aversion to grandma
    Not true … he is a man’s child, except for his mama of course …
    Needless to say though – something’s different this time
    The hole in our lives is ragged and distinct and we need you back


  26. cam45237

    Something Uninspired

    Hmmm, something…
    Something, something, something…
    Maybe some one?
    No, definitely some thing.
    Pencil tapping on paper,
    Fingers tapping on keys,
    Neither action accomplishing anything.
    I’ve written the word something in some 16 permutations
    With varying words in varying orders.
    I got nothing.
    Wait, wait! How about
    Something Bit Me
    What bites?
    Mosquitos? Dogs? Sharks? Some other unknown yet vicious aquatic animal
    Like the one that feasted on my ankle the last time I dared set foot in the ocean?
    Love bites!
    But I promised my mother I’d avoid clichés so I’m staying away from love on general principle.
    Wit is biting!
    But clearly not mine, not now.
    Next? Next in line? You there, step up and show me something.
    Something like
    Something made me turn my head
    Or else I’d not have seen you,
    Face half-hidden behind the corner of the building,
    Fingers digging into brick…
    Heavy sigh. Heavy, heavy sigh.
    You may see me, but I’m just not seeing you.
    Can I talk you into coming out from behind that building?
    I won’t hurt you, you know.
    I just want to understand who you are, why you’re here.
    No? Too shy? Not fully developed?
    Ok… let’s try…
    Something white
    Fluttered in the corner of my mind.
    This one could be about surrender, or Lawrence of Arabia’s burnoose
    Not taking me any further.
    Well, look at that!
    It IS about surrender
    Pencils down.

  27. claudsy

    I’m going to have to repost. I can’t remember if I posted my poem this afternoon or not. I know, senior moments are a bear. So I’m reposting it. Duplicate peom titles notwithstanding, my isn’t like the other one at all.

    Something Borrowed

    Dawn brought its light,
    Moon brought darkness,
    We brought ourselves,
    Grasping, clinging to life.

    Our days began when
    Dawn brought its light,
    Showing us the work
    Awaiting our hands, minds.

    We rested at day’s end when
    Moon brought darkness.
    We labored throughout
    An off-chance of success.

    Time flowed as time does.
    We brought ourselves
    To this, our future,
    Where alarms sound loud.

    Our future now seems stark,
    Grasping, clinging to life,
    Watching our destruction
    Return to show its legacy.

    © Claudette J. Young 2012

  28. Marcia Gaye

    Something Missing

    Something is not everything.
    Sometimes it has to do.
    Something is better than nothing.
    It’s somewhat often true.

    I offer you something.
    You want something more.
    Something is better than nothing.
    Something’s missing …

  29. LCaramanna

    Something Smells

    When gym class
    English class,
    physical students come crashing across the threshold,
    scrambling to be seated before the bell,
    looking disheveled,
    sporting red-faces,
    tempers flaring,
    exposing competitive edges,
    gasping for oxygen,
    thirsting for liquid,
    deodorant deficient, perspiring profusely.
    When gym class precedes English class,
    open wide the windows
    something smells!

  30. Paoos69

    Something worth at least a Thought

    Often I think of the then
    The would have been
    The could have been
    Often I think of the yet to be
    The will and the may
    The then and the yonder
    Often I think of the past
    Fondling it, caressing it
    Devouring it, reminiscing it
    Often I think of the future
    Wondering, pondering
    Hoping, Kindling
    And yet there is always the doubt
    That the past recurring in the future
    Might only disappoint
    The future in retrospect
    Might only torment
    Then is it only wise
    To live the moment
    To enjoy THAT time with no lament
    Will the mind ever move away
    From memory and speculation
    Free of wishes, goals and expectations?

  31. Melissa Hager

    Something Borrowed

    She wears the same ring
    Her grandmother wore,
    To greet her betrothed
    At the edge of the shore.
    A ring that bound grands
    For fifty-two years,
    From heaven they watch
    With joy and cheers.

  32. Mike Bayles

    Something Red

    Something red
    night’s delight
    calls in darkness
    something red
    morning’s warning
    something blue
    in daytime is true
    something blue
    is an eternal view
    something clear
    both far and near
    something clear
    allows visions
    of the sky I see
    something dear to me.

  33. Sally Jadlow

    Something Special

    Is what you are.
    Unique in the eyes of your Creator.
    Set apart for special tasks
    written before the world began.

    A special mix of talents
    gifts, and experience,
    crafted for His good pleasure.
    Be about His business
    and so bring Him joy.

    1. JanetRuth

      Thank-you…simply stunning. It should grace a wall in every home! (I was going to say, ‘every child’s room, but I don’t think we ever reach an age where we don’t need to be reminded, as you have beautifully done:)

  34. hurtin-heart

    Something bothering me
    What has become of this generation?
    How do we stop the teasing and bullying?
    Is you’re jelousness and insecurities,
    Worth the price of anothers life when you’re teasing and taunting
    them pushes them to the point
    of suicide…..
    Why so much hate in the world today?
    Why can’t everyone accept each other’s diffrences,
    and be at peace….
    And if you can’t do that, keep you’re nose amd mouth
    out of others business…
    The elderly are being abused, children going hungry,
     because so many have become
    addicted to drugs and will get their fix anyway they can.
     What will it take for all to see.
    That this generation is not what it should be.
    And stop the bullying, killing, abuse and drugs
    And bring back what we have lost which is

  35. hurtin-heart

            Something for you
    I picked your favorite color rose today
    And brought it straight to you.
    How it makes me smile 
    When i see you smile too.
    Looking around in the store today,saw a picture 
    and bought it just for you.
    Though it didn’t cost me much
    Knew it would bring a smile to your face
    And a smile to mine too.
    Took you to your favorite restaurant
    We ordered your favorite food.
    Saw you smiling sitting there
    And i started smiling too.
    Always little things that light your face,that i do for you.
    And when i see you smile
    I can’t help but smile too.
    Samantha Tinney

  36. deedeekm

    Something Blooms

    no shy violet
    salmon shaded velvet
    framed in soft green
    jutting out to
    taste the bluest
    sky you ever saw
    delicate stamen
    pollen strewn by
    spring breezes
    promise of future
    springs as eternal
    as sunrise

  37. cstewart

    Something Black

    The coal that I put in the furnace,
    As my Uncle Kenneth helped me
    Wrangle the heavy, lumpy bits.
    “Not too much now”, he said.

    And the room became warmer
    The cream on the top of the
    Milk tasted a little sweeter
    And the morning light peeked up.

    Then Aunt Bea took the cakes
    Out of the oven and put them
    On racks to cool down,
    And steam rose on the window.

  38. lionmother

    Something Is Missing

    Days follow days in
    lockstep progression
    hours slip effortlessly
    through and between
    moments filter
    excitement and despair
    and lives continue
    with the regularity of
    monotonous marching
    and I search each
    morning in the mirror
    those eyes so familiar
    saddened from the loss
    coping, yet continually
    searching for the thread
    that used to hold me
    together as if somehow
    a stitch might be caught
    and held and the garment
    kept together, though old
    and tattered and full of
    holes. Somehow the
    whole might reappear
    transformed into the
    something we both
    wore together
    instead of the rag
    I keep close to
    my heart now
    reminding me of
    times when life
    danced us both
    and our fine threads
    covered us creating
    a screen where we
    shared the feeling
    romping in endless

  39. carolynmallory

    Something Old

    Up in the back
    of the cupboard
    barely reachable
    never used
    sit my Mémère’s
    egg cups, thick glass
    that flip and double
    as juice glasses.

    They remind me of my Mémère,
    a no frills, practical woman —
    Never a complaint
    as she aged.

    Oh to be so steadfast and strong.

  40. Bruce Niedt

    OK, I’ve labored over this all day, and It’s still not really done. The prompt from NaPoWriMo is to write a “translitic” poem; that is, take a poem in a foreign language that you don’t know, and “translate” its words and sounds phonetically into English words. It’s harder than it sounds, especially to try to get it to make sense. I tried this with a French poem a few years ago and had some success with it. But this one, taken from a Swedish poem by Tomas Transtromer, is still the weirdest poem I’ve written this month.

    Something from the Swedish

    Jagged lands take in the night,
    eat the sky’s light, and man’s kin
    huddles in dark grass. Blooms turn
    to gray and men often groan.

    Jangled up for slutting in a den,
    fair Belinda, a natural maiden,
    invites tenor signals,
    red till the men come in.

    In tea-dreamed
    Niagara, minutes long,
    feminine totems are bred.

    O, becoming boredom,
    the Bly skimmers and devoted fans,
    they rake us then.
    O, the solemn horse-god.

    Man, I scored meds from Ted,
    I stalled for Anne Sexton.

  41. Rosangela

    Something Beyond

    Beyond understanding
    Beyond time
    Beyond space.

    You are something
    beyond my mind
    mind of lace.

    Lace of grace
    and flirting.
    Flirting for years
    years of absence.

    Beyond chasing
    Beyond the line
    Beyond presence.

    You are something
    beyond decision
    distant fusion.
    Here and there
    and nowhere.

    Something beyond
    our bodies’ bond.
    Intrinsic: pearl in the shell
    Loosely belonging: pendulum in the bell.

    Something beyond platonic.
    energy synergy,
    mental orgy.

    Mind connection
    Sensual affection


  42. Andrea B

    Something Made Me Mad
    (for Justine)

    Something made me mad for you.
    It may have been your cocky grin,
    your brilliant brain,
    your so fine behind,
    but I don’t think so.

    It may have been your rad ride,
    your beachy man-tan,
    your well-composed clothes,
    but I don’t think so.

    It was true that I was mad for you
    when you didn’t accept my Luv-o-gram,
    when I dropped $20 in front of you and you kept it,
    when you forgot to thank me after I windexed
    your locker every day for a month.

    But the moment that I knew that I was
    mad for you
    was the last semester when
    your girlfriend looked at me wrong.

  43. claudsy

    Something Borrowed

    Dawn brought its light,
    Moon brought darkness,
    We brought ourselves,
    Grasping, clinging to life.

    Our days began when
    Dawn brought its light,
    Showing us the work
    Awaiting our hands, minds.

    We rested at day’s end when
    Moon brought darkness.
    We labored throughout
    An off-chance of success.

    Time flowed as time does.
    We brought ourselves
    To this, our future,
    Where alarms sound loud.

    Our future now seems stark,
    Grasping, clinging to life,
    Watching our destruction
    Return to show its legacy.

    ©Claudette J. Young 2012

  44. deringer1

    (made up my mind to try rhyming today.)

    Something Amazing

    What a coincidence! some people say,
    but I refuse to see it that way.

    Events in my life work out so neatly,
    and friends arrive to help so sweetly,

    My every need has been supplied
    and harmful threats have been denied.

    That’s not to say I have not grieved,
    not hurt, not doubted what I believe.

    I’ve had my share of pain and sorrow;
    sometimes I’ve hoped for no tomorrow.

    But whether I cry or whether I sing
    I tell you true—-it’s a God Thing !

  45. Imaginalchemy

    “Something was my Grandmother’s Dog (A True Story)”

    They didn’t know what to name him.
    He didn’t like the options, and who could blame him?
    Perhaps Spot? Goodness, no.
    Definitely not an Oreo.
    Rover? God forbid it.
    He turned his nose up at “Benji” and “Kit.”
    So, exasperated, my five aunts and Mother
    Said to Granny, “Don’t make this such a bother,
    You have to name him something!”

    …and my Grandmother Dee,
    Deciding this remark was destiny,
    And it was a name he would not dread,
    She patted Something on the head.

  46. Kendall A. Bell

    Something peaceful

    In the way the light hits her face
    as it pours through the windows
    of the bedroom, how it highlights
    the curve of her jaw, how it makes
    her skin look less taut and filled
    with worry. There is something
    almost relieving to touch the chill
    on her arms, to see the blue darken
    her pale legs, to see her mouth frozen
    in a slightly upward path, to know
    that she knew it was coming, yet
    she would feel the sun’s warmth one
    last time before she left me. I can’t
    possibly be angry when I see how
    brightly she shines, and will always.

  47. Lana Walker

    Something Good

    Oh yeah
    Tell me
    something good!

    Don’t know what it is
    But it is
    gonna be great!

    Year blimp?

    It’s all good.

  48. posmic

    Something Springs

    Something rattles
    something hums
    something buzzes
    something thrums

    Something whistles
    something whizzes
    something thistles
    something fizzes

    something scurries
    something sings
    something hurries
    something … springs!

  49. whatevertheyaint

    Something in My Ear

    Something to make me sing aloud
    curve my lips into a smile
    cause my hips to gyrate
    Something to enlighten
    my current state of mind
    Something in my ear
    urging me forward
    taking me back in time
    something called music

  50. Sara McNulty

    April 12, 2012 – Day 12
    Something ______ – Make this the title of your poem

    Something Temporary

    A sensation of imagery
    Pink cloud puffs,
    expands, extending
    tall, pointed ears,
    swirling a vaporous circle of tail
    If you focus, unwavering,
    you will see a rabbit hop across the sky.

    A sensation of embrace
    summer sweeps across
    you bare shoulders,
    warm wind, jot of sun
    slipping like soft silk–
    a romance wrapped
    around your senses.

    A sensation of scent
    pumpkin pie cools
    on a windowsill,
    aroma wafts by as you pass.
    The cinnamon and nutmeg
    drift through your nostrils;
    imagined taste teases your tongue.

    Some things are temporary,
    but if you are lucky
    you will be revisited
    time, and again.

  51. J.lynn Sheridan

    “Something’s missing”

    In the night, a silence spills forth—
    sorrow and sharps, flat dreams and
    love lost—the melody of the troubadour

    whose fingers flutter like hippy gauze
    above his strings, singing of musky love
    and heartache and delight but some-

    thing was missing.

    His voice was low and heavy in the
    stale air as he sang of himself—a
    passionate smuggler of lyric and
    rhyme, the music tumbling onto a
    breeze then falling under the earth.

    The silence of the night spilled forth
    a song of its own knowing that a love
    song without a beating heart dies and
    a broken soul taunts no man to pleasure.

  52. Walt Wojtanik


    For many years, words held close to the vest
    had been hidden from view, never expressed
    for fear that what needed to be said,
    never needed to be heard. An so these words,

    were left to languish in linguistic limbo,
    a purgatory where poetic ponderance
    suffers for lack of someone to behold.
    I was never sold on their lack of worth.

    Where else on earth can you convey
    all you want to say, in a few well chosen
    thoughts, frozen in perpetuity in your own
    style and purity, a surety that shows

    your process possesses everything
    you need; not overly verbose or to excess,
    but proving the point you wanted to make:
    that some things just need to be expressed.

    A tender heart holds every secret
    that love has planted to bloom
    brightly, brilliantly – nightly and
    to grow deeply into the hearts of others.

    A descriptive eye flies in the face
    of all things in time and space.
    Our imaginations soar, imploring all
    who take the ride to take a piece of what’s inside.

    A sorrowful soul has no control
    over the depths of their despair. But there,
    in black and white, the battle they fight
    will shine the light of compassion and extol

    with the words unconditional joy. Any coy
    or mirthful words of worth will ilicit a smile,
    while provoking thought; no joking is for naught.
    And so self-respecting poet would pass the chance

    to take an inward glance at what provides the spark
    which will burn unbridled into the raging blaze
    of our maniacal muses. If it refuses to extinguish,
    you’ll wish you had lit the tinder earlier.

    Your success depends on opening your coffers,
    and giving the world all you have to offer.
    Obsessive, oppresive, excessive repressive,
    submissive, successive, words are always expressive.

      1. JanetRuth

        Walt, I o-o-oed and a-a-a-h-ed through the whole poem, reading it slowly, enchanted by its unexpected rhyme and completely seduced by the words…. I love so many lines here but this really stopped me…
        “Ans so the words
        were left to languish in linguistic limbo,
        a purgatory where poetic ponderance
        suffers for lack of someone to behold.” yes!

  53. Jane Shlensky

    Something to Talk About

    He wasn’t afraid of the kissing or dancing,
    although his pulse raced and his mind stalled,
    picturing himself sweeping a pretty girl
    around a dance floor with people watching
    and wondering how he’d managed to get
    her to say yes to anything ever at all.

    He knew what he looked like, even clean
    and dressed to the nines: lanky, sprouty,
    haunted about the eyes. But he wasn’t
    worried about what others thought now
    that he had the corsage in hand, the tux rented,
    the shoes shined, promenading to her door.

    He knew to give her his jacket if she was cold,
    to fetch her punch and take her hand, but now
    what consumed him was the prospect of talking,
    saying things to which she said things,
    a natural and free-flowing exchange with
    humor, wit, and charm, a quiet boy’s fear.

    Talk of what you know, his grandmother said,
    but what girl cared about wood fires and old cars,
    about old folks’ thoughts on crops and cures,
    aches and losses, the daily fare of raising a teenaged boy.
    She was young and beautiful with a lilting laugh,
    and he was old while still a kid, needing a prom

    to free him from his life with something unexpected
    and easy, neither her pity nor his shyness.
    Tonight, he wanted a new topic, and equality
    with all that shines. He needed something
    to talk about, to get her started, so he could
    relax and do what he did best: listen.

    1. Marie Elena

      You’ve done it again, Jane. A complete story. An engaging MC. This time, you have three of us in love with him.

      Beautiful, warm-to-the-core, and skillfully written. You and Nancy have a gift for this style.

    2. Jane Shlensky

      J. Lynn, Jannelee, dear Marie, Miss R, and posmic, thank you all so much. Your kind words made a very long difficult day a little brighter. I see we are all suckers for the strong silent lads ;)

  54. JRSimmang

    something someone sometimes

    croaking moaning screaming squirming
    striving against
    a deepening horizon
    slowly losing to the waning day
    our caked on mudfaces
    warmed from the sun
    crackling around our perceptions
    make no difference to the flames of
    former glory
    the halo bursting
    schrapnel driving into the heart
    of madness

    voiced over voice
    hands trembling
    toes trembling
    clenched in pearl teeth
    feral eyes
    lacking the presence of mind
    to outwit
    dire and heated
    resolve as steel
    but still brittle as bones

    unaccustomed to the
    heavy breath of a
    stone cold lover
    leftover and wasted
    a spark of indignance
    lights fewer fires than
    the half-choked cigarette
    and wasted
    sometimes someone something

  55. Domino

    Something I’m Feeling Isn’t Right

    I’m feeling something
    right now,
    and as the emotion
    like the
    witches cauldron
    in that Scottish play,
    I’m beginning to realize
    I know what it is.

    Outrage springs to mind
    but that’s not quite it.

    It’s probably un-
    because it’s so

    People say I’m the nicest
    person they know,
    but that I become
    when angry.

    Yes, I think
    I’m feeling a bit

  56. De Jackson

    Something Written This Way Comes

    Unleash this beast, immortal pen
    Uncap its mouth, begin again
    And deep within, dark heartbeat drums
    As something written this way comes.

    It gnashes jaw and pierces phrase
    It carves its cleft and claws for praise
    As thoughts are thread and fingers thrum
    And something written this way comes.

    Words wield their way into the night
    Woven with wings, and fraught with fright
    Devouring hours, forgotten crumbs
    As something written this way comes.

    As silent scratching scatters spark
    And murmured musing makes its mark
    Torn pages turn, and ink will run
    As something written this way comes.

    For as this paper breath unfurls,
    She opens vein, and spills the world
    And by the pricking of her thumbs
    Some something written this way comes.

  57. Marjory MT

    Something poemed early
    must be posted from the East
    while the West stll sleeps
    and birds are not yet peeping –
    West will poem once it’s awake.

      1. Marjory MT


        Tonight I’ll set my clock
        so l’ll get up at three
        before they wake the cock
        then I will try to see
        if my brain stays stopped
        before coffee or tea.

  58. Linda Rhinehart Neas

    Something’s Brewing

    Following the trail
    into the dark cavern
    of the Unknown,
    the intrepid traveler
    wiggles through the barriers
    of time and space,
    entering the hermitage –

    The traveler becomes one
    with the stillness,
    lingering enneadic months
    the flush of reality
    sweeps her into the light

    Forgetting all –
    she begins again

  59. maggzee


    I know your message is felt
    It tries to pull at my strings
    But lest you feel that I am less
    My dog has worms
    He just about gave me a attack
    I may not be your throb
    But please, have a

  60. Catherine Lee

    Something Spicy

    I’m in the mood for something spicy,
    Not measured doses of barren heat
    Meted out of bottles, but the native
    Fire fused into the marrow of a dish,
    Strong enough to conjure up mother
    Who reminded me with loud spices
    That where I came from
    Is not where I am.

    1. Brian Slusher

      “Measured doses of barren heat” is a memorable phrase, as well as “loud spices.” The final line is strong, too. Short and sharp–good work!

  61. Yolee

    Something Unforced

    Feet upon the white wicker table
    in the patio, I had been testing
    perception by re-examining a novel’s
    sentence. I could not make words
    or their significance stick to the walls
    of my head. Luke barked your arrival.

    Back from the farmer’s market,
    recycled bags swinging from sun-kissed
    hands, the aluminum body of the storm
    door was superimpose on you.

    Packages were placed on the island,
    one bag fell on its side: out slipped
    two lemons. My mouth watered.

  62. DanielAri


    and the minute our bags bounce onto the bed in the cheap
    room at El Cortez, my buddy Michael is back out the door.
    “To the casino,” he says. “I have a foolproof plan.” You
    have to ignore the twin ridges of sharply towering hotels
    lined like two rows of teeth along the gums of The Strip,
    eating every sucker who comes near with a foolproof plan.
    Michael says: “You bet two dollars on blackjack. If you win,
    you’re up two dollars. If you lose, you bet four. Then if you
    win, you’re up two total; and if you lose, you bet eight. Win
    and you’re up two total. Every time you win, you win two
    dollars, and any time you lose, double your bet.” “That puts
    you in for a lot of money pretty quick,” I said. “But how
    often are you going to lose that many in a row?” Michael
    asks rhetorically, “and meanwhile, you’re drinking house
    booze for free and having a good time. Say you win ten
    hands an hour. That’s twenty bucks an hour for having fun.
    Casinos make money on people who don’t have a system,
    who keep betting the same and losing money no matter what.”
    To this day, Michael says that the casinos cheat, but really it’s
    the math that’s faulty–wrong completely. I’m living proof.


  63. Benjamin Thomas

    Something stirred

    I prefer something
    stirred, mingled with warmth
    something with pizazz
    With spice
    But free of sugar
    Free of ice
    Something that dazzles
    Yet cool to calm the senses
    Something with oil of Bergamot
    That old Earl grey
    Subdues all the tension

  64. Connie Peters

    Something or Other

    I’m getting up at five A. M.
    Some say that I’m ailing.
    A Saturday morning fever
    Yep, it’s called yardsaling.

    A whatchamacallit or two
    For ninety seven cents.
    Thirteen widgets for a dollar
    A thingy for the fence.

    And just what I always wanted–
    A hickamajigger!
    And what a cute thingamabob!
    Here’s one a size bigger.

    I will use this thingamajig
    And this doodad I’m sure.
    I have a doohickey at home
    But I can use one more.

    This gadget looks interesting.
    These gismos are unique.
    I’ve no idea what they are
    But they must be antique.

    And here is something or other,
    A stuffed beluga whale.
    So I will have to sell some stuff
    And have my own yard sale.

  65. MiskMask

    A Little (Blanking) Something

    I like a little something
    a little (blank) before I sleep,
    two or three (blanks) a week
    maybe even a (blanking) fling
    behind the garden shed.
    I’ll have a little something,
    a (blank) right on the floor
    or pressed against the door,
    up a tree,
    on one knee,
    while sipping tea,
    or screeching like banshee.
    Like I say, I like a (blanking) something
    almost anytime.

  66. laurie kolp

    Something Mysterious

    A feeling you get
    that something’s not right,
    an instinct, a hunch
    when out of sight

    but not out of mind
    like things from the past
    swept under the rugs
    stuffed in closets, last

    year she discovered
    a cousin three times removed
    had wrestled a fox
    at the zoo, ain’t that rude?

    And hillbilly grandma,
    what a scandalous thing,
    running off with thief
    when he gave her a ring.

    Shh! Please don’t tell
    the last one’s a bitch
    no, a bastard, I think-
    which one is witch?

    Yes, this feeling you get
    about family history
    an instinct, a hunch
    this secretive mystery.

  67. foodpoet

    Something Else

    Something Else always
    Occurs that blocks your poetic
    Mental process.
    Even if you find yourself thinking
    Now I can write, old
    Tired broken
    Habits pop up. Repeat.
    I can write now. Take
    Notes, that doesn’t work.
    Go to the next stage, put headphones on. Avoid

    Eye contact, co workers are evil thought
    Looters, ready to snatch your poetic break and
    Snap into
    Every smaller bits.

  68. Nimue

    Something Realized

    It happened so long ago,
    but no one knows of that;
    It happened in front of all
    but no one would comment;

    A girl who talked all day
    had suddenly nothing to tell
    A girl who smiled all time
    had only blank stares to sell.

    Some thing had changed
    and she herself did not realize
    some thing trapped her wings
    and she never again tried to fly.

    Unless she forced her thoughts free
    and give them shapes in words,
    unless she bound them to her pen,
    she never knew, she could rule the world.

  69. walkwrite@sympatico.ca


    It is nearly one o’clock and your mother is
    talking on the church steps
    a relative engaged in chat
    while I hide in the old blue Impala
    waiting in the parking lot
    my mother and bridesmaids fidget
    my brother fusses with his tuxedo tie

    Given: this spring day
    May daylight filtered through
    greening trees
    the yellow of young birch leaves
    the pink of tulips and honeysuckle

    True: the dress I wore was a white lie
    not a virgin but never before wed
    I carried naive like a Sherpa up the mountain
    of you: constant, tender and sweet
    never asking for more than I could give
    never travelling too far for me to keep up

  70. cindishipley

    Something Wrong?

    I don´t speak good Spanish
    and you don´t speak English.
    Maybe that is why we get along
    so well. But now I see a darkness
    in your eyes, and your voice
    trembles. You move back and forth
    and back and forth. I move in the same
    rythm. A man in white tells you
    “salir que esta temblando”.
    Your eyebrows go up.
    I hear a loud piercing noise.
    Everyone in the restaurant
    leaves. You ran out the door.
    The man who spoke to you,
    gently pushed me out. I
    looked at the kitchen on the
    way, and saw no smoke.
    We were all outside,
    everyone speaking rapidly,
    in spanish only.
    You looked at me finally.
    “Something wrong?” I said.
    You just laughed at my confusion.

  71. Jannelee


    The Red Hot Chili Peppers
    and Marilyn Monroe
    Hot springs
    a summer day in New Mexico
    diamond rings
    and long, steamy love letters

    The Sahara desert
    and hot toddies
    girls in bikinis
    with curvy bodies
    James Bond, a martini
    and Harrison for dessert

    A summer moon
    your best girl by you side
    a yellow convertible
    a souped up ride
    the pedal to the metal
    and the radio wailing a favorite tune

    Falling in love
    Champagne, white lace
    good poetry
    a cozy fireplace
    perfect symmetry
    and a cabin with a loft above

  72. kelly the dilettante


    more than nothing, less than
    everything, just something
    between here and there, less
    the time it took
    to discover, something, someone,
    some, not all just
    a portion was misplaced
    and now
    it’s lost

  73. emmajordan

    Something Under My Pillows

    My bed, new, free of past pain
    Cherry posts,
    simple solid smooth
    Black iron at head and foot
    just enough of the feminine
    yet simple strong
    It is meant to frame art
    creations in fabric and yarns
    Today it is clothed in lilac sheets
    lilac and cream on pillows
    cream colored oh so soft blanket
    (Jake says it’s the cuddle blankey)
    Topped with a bit of art
    crocheted in one huge square
    colors from dark to heathers
    a field of purples and lilacs
    pinks and yellows hidden here and there
    designed only as I worked
    beginning to end.
    (Sshhh! There is something
    under my pillows of lilac and cream
    you can see peeking out from under
    if you look
    large soft pillows
    with Finn and Mater for Jake
    Tinkerbell for Peach.
    There is always something for them
    just because.)

  74. Walt Wojtanik

    The classics, or something… Part II


    You called me that name…
    And you wonder why I made you go?

    Watching your hair flap in the breeze,
    and you were gone and I was less lonely.

    You cried in your sleep – songs you warbled
    across the chasm between us,
    across the street and to the bus stop.

    You had flown, as if you had feathers,
    from the treetop. They found you in something…

    waterfall, they stuck me with all blame
    And you wonder why I made you go?

    * to Carl Sandburg’s “Evening Waterfall”

  75. Buddah Moskowitz

    [note: I remembered the prompt incorrectly. Oh well.]

    Sometimes It’s Obvious

    They stir something
    in us that makes us
    admire their nobility,
    their unshatterable dignity.

    They find ways to walk
    without legs,
    type without fingers,
    trust without seeing,
    dance without ever
    hearing the music.

    Sometimes it’s obvious,
    but sometimes it isn’t.

    For years
    she asked me
    for a wheelchair
    or leg braces,
    because she knew it
    would let the world know
    there was something
    with her.

    As she gets older,
    and we learn more about
    her disability,
    I realize it is not
    invisible, only hidden

    deep inside
    her skull,
    inside the already
    twisted Gordian knot of
    synapses, nerve receptors
    and other gray matter,
    her cerebellum
    most likely deprived of oxygen
    in utero
    is damaged,
    and slowly the effects
    are manifesting:

    balance problems
    organizational problems
    sequencing problems
    emotional problems
    algebra word problems
    visual-spatial problems
    auditory processing problems
    problem problems.

    The good news is
    she’s not so bad off
    that the world sees her
    as disabled.

    The bad news is
    she’s not so bad off
    that the world sees her
    as disabled.

    1. dandelionwine

      Beautiful. I hear you. This is the good and bad news for so many. “For years she asked me for a wheelchair…” -painfully stunning. Love the poem.

      1. Marjory MT

        Oh do I hear you. Thank you for writing so.
        Sometimes the biggest handie cap(s)
        – no trying to be politically incorrect –
        Are the people you meet who simple
        do not try (care) to help or understand.

  76. PKP

    will be back later when traffic is perhaps lest congested and the

    SOMETHING that tells me I’m posting too fast has
    gone to sleep !

    Enjoy the day…

    1. Marie Elena

      Try going back to the “old” way. Type your comments into a word-processing program (lined up, one after the other), and then copy and paste them into a comment box here. Then you’ll only be posting once. It has worked for me on some other days that were difficult here.

      Just a thought …

    1. dextrousdigits

      I could see a child kneeling by the bed praying,
      with the windows open for better communication with God
      and mean while an ancient wise one saying the last line of faith.

  77. Miss R.

    Something Wrong

    I have an exam to study for,
    And responsibility knocks
    Loudly at the door of my
    Consciousness, yet here I am
    Stuffing my shoulders in my ears
    To block out the world and keep my
    Fingers free to plunk out poetry
    One letter at a time. Why do I
    Choose this delicious madness
    Over practicality? There must
    Be something very wrong with me.

        1. Miss R.

          I don’t know about “they,” but I do, so you’re good. :) I’m glad to hear I’m not the only one floating in the procrastination-by-way-of-poetry boat!

    1. De Jackson

      Ohhhhh. It’s soooooo wrong with me, too! :) My poor family. Laundry, food, any form of decent housecleaning whatsoever…all on hiatus.
      LOVE “plunk out poetry.” YES.
      Plunk away. And if this is wrong, I don’t wanna be right. :)

  78. Marianv

    Something’s Missing

    Gone away – the old barn-like tavern
    With its porch and view of the bay
    Sunset and we sipped our beer outside
    Warm summer evenings
    We watched the sunset
    A ball of red slip into the water
    Leaving a scarlet streak across the bay

    Darkness and the lights inside
    Brought music, banjo and guitar
    Voices raised that joined the cricket
    Serenade –
    All gone away
    Missing from our lives that easy play
    Friends greeting friends and sometimes
    Joining in a song. Who sings today?

    Old age comes laden down with memories
    Hard times turn to carefree days of youth
    Just as well the young don’t pay attention
    Who can say
    What really happened only that we felt that way-
    Happy, and our cares were light

    Or did we dream it all and let
    something in our memories go astray!

  79. dandelionwine

    Something Undone

    We are slipping away
    from our ties, the tight
    knots of us loosening
    love. May we loop
    back, may we secure
    ourselves. It’s not safe
    to run so far with laces

  80. Mark Windham

    Something in the Water

    There seems to be a growth
    in the amount of expanding girths,
    neighbors soon to give birth.

    In my house this would call for serious discussion,
    we have no room for additional little creatures —
    more important still regarding a bun-in-the-oven,
    is the part about me having had ‘the procedure.’

    Explanations would be in order,
    or possibly a call to the preacher.


  81. Michael Grove

    Something About Poetry

    There’s something about poetry, but I can’t put
    your finger on it. Poe A Tree is everything
    and nothing at all… creatively strung metaphors
    shot from a rifle, spiraling like hollow point bullets
    hurling across space thru the eye of a needle.

    What the heck is poetry?
    A black hole in the galaxy.
    I read another poets blog.
    Become a bump upon their log.
    What did they mean? What did they say?
    Let me do this my own way.

    Birdshot fired from a shotgun barrel in spreading
    patterns at brick walls where some will embed
    while others ricochet randomly in Haiku.

    Here is the question.
    What the heck is poetry?
    I long for answers.

    answer please
    to the question
    states is a form of art.
    Literary,where language
    is used for its aesthetic and
    evocative qualities in lieu
    of or in addition to its meaning.

    Contemplating all of this.
    I’d like to have a slice of cheese
    On my baloney sandwich.
    Make it baby Swiss, yes please.

    I heard you grumble cheddar
    I watched the feta crumble.
    “So many holes in baby Swiss.”
    The poets all would mumble.

    Most of this new internet
    poetry is unrhymed, unpunctuated
    rambling prose. I fall short
    of comprehending the complexities
    of the craft and claim ignorance. Surely
    I am not the only one, or am I? All alone
    on the astroplane without any wings
    or a halo, only the unpacked parachute.

    I’ll just have a baloney sandwich please.

    The poet scatters pixie dust and sequins
    while the pins and needles
    migrate toward the cushion.

    Oh yes, there are divided schools.
    The one I’m in is for the fools.
    Here couplets rhyme
    with meter and time,
    and disappointments abound over broken rules.

    Don’t just sit there and don’t get up.

    By Michael Grove

      1. Michael Grove

        Ha! Thanks Janet. I decided I wanted to have a lot of fun with the prompt this morning.. I think I could have gone on forever and added even more forms inside this one…

  82. taylor graham


    Fox cry in the night. Owl
    calling before dawn. In the distance
    coyotes’ woven song.

    Beside our bed, soft sounds
    of puppy sleep. She stirs, subsides.
    She’s waiting in the dark,

    a clock in her head. 5:30.
    It’s time. A week with us, already
    she knows the schedule.

    She’s learning the rules. I switch on
    the light. Her eyes full
    of ideas – the ones we’re trying

    to teach her, the ones she was born
    with. Down generations,
    dogs who let themselves be tamed

    to live with us. And now
    it’s morning,
    blood running wild.

  83. mafero

    I am new here, and I LOVE the PAD idea and the poems. Please see if you like mine…
    Something Remembered

    A house smelling of pumpkin and spices
    With children laughing their childish laughs
    Parents delighting in a holiday that never ends
    Comes to me at odd times
    Without warning
    My old life
    My old house
    My tears fall

  84. Mystical-Poet

    Something Inappropriate

    now I’m wondering
    what’s really appropriate
    to post here, shall I chance
    Something Inviting
    like the lecherous
    Bikini Lullaby
    do I dare risk
    losing respect
    is that possible?
    are poets really
    that open minded?
    sometimes in the
    spirit of fun
    I see a line drawn
    in the sand
    Do I Dare ??

    ~ Randy Bell ~

  85. De Jackson

    something without wings

    she is platypal
    webbed but un
    fur for feathers
    night dweller.
                    identity crisis pending.

  86. Andrew Kreider

    Something worth saving (octain refrain)

    Before you start to save my soul
    from hell, it’s hardly worth it yet.
    There so much life I want to get

    to, if you’d spare the time. My goal
    is this: to take a week to break
    the rules. And laugh. I want to roll

    back here sky-high on being whole,
    before you start to save my soul.

  87. RJ Clarken

    Something Borrowed

    You’ve borrowed pens and car keys. You
    will often take my place on queue.
    You snagged my class notes on Descartes
    and somehow, love, you stole my heart.

    ‘Appropriations’ – that is your
    known middle name. It means you score
    on anything that you claim part,
    so…somehow, love, you stole my heart.

    You occupy, acquire or get
    what’s not nailed down. So…ready…set…
    then GO! You make it a fine art
    ‘cause somehow, love, you stole my heart.

    Consider this: did I so choose
    to let you win me? Clever ruse?
    So are you good or am I smart?
    Well, somehow, love, you stole my heart.


  88. JanetRuth

    Something good from Something not so good…

    Don’t count your mistakes…
    …count your life-lessons

    Don’t count your failures…
    …count your stepping-stones

    Don’t count your regrets…
    …count your moments of grace

    Don’t count your misgivings…
    …count your opportunities to forgive

    …and don’t count them as nothing…
    …count them as jewels
    In a crown of wisdom

  89. Dare

    Something Else

    I took the highway

    I played the game

    I lost it all

    I died in safety

    My love mirrored within

  90. Beth Rodgers

    Felt like doing a second one today…


    Fraught with peril
    It is not.

    It is good
    Just and sound.

    Emotionally perfect
    Searing and brilliant
    Increasingly relevant.

    Inspirational to a tee
    It defines and creates

    What is it for you?

  91. J.lynn Sheridan

    “Something’s about to explode”

    He tried to cut through the neighbor’s
    unfenced yard to catch his new puppy
    that had wiggled free of its leash, but

    the man stood against the screen door
    with a rifle in his hands.

    A boy and his dog.

    A man and his gun.

    One steaming bulletproof mama with a tongue on fire—


  92. Angie K

    Something Inexplicable

    They say a picture is worth a thousand words.
    But what if words aren’t enough?

    The picture has a problem:
    two dimensions aren’t enough.

    Then what is?
    What is “enough”?

    Life is not about explaining; it’s about living
    and breathing and singing and writing and playing and loving and laughing and crying…

    and someday, we’ll have enough.
    But this doesn’t mean we can explain it.

  93. Willy


    Bad déjà vu. Personal Hell. Old memories of
    dark dreams, allowed to resurface when the
    mind lay in a vulnerable state. A shapeless
    pool ebbs and flows in any direction when
    least expected, threatening rational thought,
    smothering logic, allowing fears and worries
    to thrive, grow. Solutions abound, but, as with
    Tantalus, they remain just out of reach.

      1. sarite

        Wow! That is about the nicest thing you could say to me (unless you said I sounded like Robert Frost or Mary Oliver :-)) Shel is one of my all time favorite poets!
        Thank you!

  94. JanetRuth

    Something ’bout Fresh Garden-dirt…

    There’s something about
    Fresh garden-dirt between my toes
    That stirs images of lush
    Pristine and perfect rows

    There’s something about
    Fresh garden dirt between my toes
    That washes the mind
    Of former gardening woes

    There’s something about
    Fresh garden-dirt between my hands
    That makes me feel
    Like a dreamer of youth again

  95. Jane Shlensky

    Something Unseen

    Something you are appeals to
    Something I am down deep where
    Something unseen moves unhurried,
    Something stirs and senses
    Something so kind and good in you,
    Something so lasting and lifting that
    Something in me wants to be that too.
    Some things are meant to be, I guess,
    Some things unseen but as real as yes.

  96. gtabasso

    Something Else

    In the beginning, I thought
    you were something special,
    that this would be the end
    of my search for a partner.
    I saw you as no one did,
    not even you —
    your gifts, your potential.
    I was blinded to the reality
    of your situation
    sleeping on someone’s couch,
    no job, no car, no child support.
    I thought you were a victim
    of circumstance, your ex-wife,
    your autistic children.
    I learned you were a victim
    of you and that I had to keep walking.

    Two years later,
    there is no one else in my life.
    You keep trying to come back.
    I am not looking for someone else
    but I know I am not for you.

  97. ely the eel


    There is something about a smile
    that is truly hard to resist,
    have a little, it seems to say,
    or a lot, really, I insist.

    There is something about a smile,
    that demands of you a reply,
    spontaneous, unplanned, your own
    bright grin for every passerby.

    There is something about a smile,
    truly infectious, so it seems,
    a gift of joy and happiness,
    unselfish sharing of your dreams.

    There is something about a smile,
    as though it’s always meant to be,
    it costs you nothing, means so much,
    give one to everyone, you’ll see

  98. De Jackson

    Something from Nothing

           You can’t
                     squeeze blood
                             from a turnip

             her mama said.

                                     She tried anyway.

                           didn’t work

                                                          Until she learned to throw them.

  99. Beth Rodgers


    The shape of your words
    Should graze my funny bone
    Rather than stick in my sides like needles.

    Your lack of aplomb
    When you speak to me
    Grates on my nerves.

    Saying the right thing
    Shouldn’t be so difficult
    Or jarring a task.

    It’s just that I can’t begin to
    With someone so
    To my own character.

  100. drwasy

    Something about the uniform

    compels some to pump
    a hand, grasp a shoulder,
    offer a hug,
    whisper thanks.

    Others hurry past
    with bowed heads
    as if straw stuffs the suit,
    the jacket but a prop.


    Peace, Linda S-W

  101. lady maggie

    Something Apotropaic
          For death itself to offer certain cure
          against contagious love’s dissembled smile
          so as with something sure to reconcile,
          one’s resurrection can’t be premature
          else one’s again exposed to the allure
          and tempting eye and captivating wile
          at risk of falling victim to love’s guile
          against which no believer can endure.
          Say, tell me where to find that silver charm
          you always wore around your neck?   Your heart
          is naked, open to harsh hurt and harm.
          You sacrificed it?   God, that wasn’t smart.
          Let’s look see if we’ve something to disarm
          the threat to life to which love plays its part.

          1. lady maggie

            I do know very well that I’m not one of the best, but I’m happy to re-draft any of mine all the way through if that works to bring a smile to you or anyone else.

            The way this month’s are going for me, if I edit any one of them, I risk having to edit them all, but I’m already coming seriously close to doing so, since some of them still aren’t doing what I told them to, even after multiple edits. Such is the curse of one of the lesser of our talented group here.

  102. Walt Wojtanik


    A longing heart is a great place to start
    for in its expression it imparts
    all that it espouses. It houses great emotion
    and a loving devotion to her wanting heart.
    It is as old as time, an ancient rhyme
    that graces your words as if heard for the first time,
    but, they’ve all been said. They languish
    inside your head; familiar is their message
    that serves to usuage those wants and longings.
    For as long as two hearts join, they keep going
    as they were meant. Heaven sent and more.
    Some things NEVER change, for sure!

  103. De Jackson

    Something Somebody Somewhere
    Might Have Said Softly Before

    Hold your own heart.
    It’s all you’ve got. Wrap it in gossamer,
    spider silk, tears. Tie ribbons to fragile
    chambers, and anchor them to hope.

    Raise your own hand.
    Nobody else is going to stand up for
    what you know to be true, who you
    know to be you. Let those fingers fly.

    Tend your own garden.
    If that one’s greener, it’s because
    you’ve forgotten to water, or asked
    too much of soil without sunshine.

    Raise your own song.
    If no one hums along, stand tall
    and strum it louder, stronger
    still. The trees will answer.

  104. Bonnee

    “Something Only”

    Something only I can see
    Something only you could be
    To me, it’s something warm and sweet
    Nothing that could be deplete

    Something only you could give
    Something only I could live
    To me, it’s something soft and light
    Nothing that could lose delight

    Something only I can feel
    Something only you make real
    To me, it’s something like a dove
    Nothing that is less than love.

  105. Mystical-Poet

    Something Fast

    there’s a new beat
    revving up the street
    heart racing breath taking
    ten tickets in the making

    so sleek and so fast
    it dazzles my eye
    monster sounds connect
    exhaust with the sky

    at 100 feet a second
    street lightning’s the thrill 
    don’t want to come in second
    just make out your will

    racing side to side
    pink slips at the end
    all you have to do
    is make it ’round the bend

    just rev up that engine
    let the tach unwind
    street lightning’s the prey
    leaving hungry cops behind

    lights always flashing
    trying to drive me insane
    just a city boy looking
    for a country passing lane

    street lightning who cares ?
    street lightning who dares ?

    ~ Randy Bell ~

  106. RJ Clarken

    Something is Rotten in Denmark (and other tragically comic stories)

    Something is rotten in Denmark
    ‘cause Juliet’s dead…so then, hark:
    Ophelia was just kissed by Lear
    in this, my mash-up of Shakespeare.

    Richard the Third made much ado
    about some merry wives. (Just two.)
    Verona gentlemen appear
    in this, my mash-up of Shakespeare.

    A merchant tames a little shrew?
    Love’s labour’s lost Othello. Cue?!
    Bianca finds the sonnets dear
    in this, my mash-up of Shakespeare.

    King John says, “As you like it, Puck!”
    So Pericles is out of luck.
    Now all exeunt…the end draws near
    in this, my mash-up of Shakespeare.


  107. Arike

    Something knew

    Something cold made of wires
    In a room full of metal boxes
    Holds all the little files
    A nest of blind birds
    Flying out each year
    To you

    Something knew in there that
    You hadn’t filled out form… number?
    It’s virtual and empty so
    A gaping maw gobbles up
    Your right to a discount
    Bye, rent

    Something followed on that
    A generated letter informing
    You of a fait accompli
    Just an afterthought
    To the machine

    Something grew out of that
    Change in the program a full
    Year after you file a complaint
    A glacier, this cold box
    Telling you your rights

  108. Marie Elena

    The following nonet was inspired by a despondent gentleman in a nursing home whose heart/soul/spirit was quickened by hearing the music of his era. If you get a chance, please watch this amazing/endearing ~6-minute video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NKDXuCE7LeQ&feature=share .

    Accelerando! Something Stirs! [a nonet]

    Though I may be living in my grave,
    Though both rhythm and voice are hushed,
    I long for a serenade.
    Timbre, return to me!
    Quicken my soul
    With music –
    My heart

    1. JanetRuth

      Oh Marie, that is SO touching!!! UNBELIEVABLE…I’m all tears…This poem is a perfect reply. I am going to show this to my daughter who works with the aged!

      also Marie, you remind me how many forms of poetry I know nothing of! This nonet is very alluring. Have you had it on PB?

    2. Marie Elena

      Wow … thanks so much, ladies! You warm my heart, all of you!

      Janet, I don’t think we’ve featured the nonet at PB yet. I’m sure we’ll get to it.

      BTW, “nonet” is a musical term, as well as poetic. It is meant to be played by 9 instruments. The nonet poetic form has nine lines, beginning with 9 syllables and diminishing to one. I also included 9 musical terms in this poem, for good “measure.” ;)

  109. Imaginalchemy

    (Quick recap of the story leading up to today’s poem: A plum tree sapling transformed into a girl and left the safety of the ancient wood, only to discover that the forest is now being burned and cut down by “Her Majesty’s” subjects, in an attempt to uproot a hidden magic in the soil that Her Majesty desires to possess. Plum is joined by a fire-eating sprite on her way towards the royal city to confront Her Majesty about destroying the forest.)

    CHAPTER THREE—Something Wickedly Waiting

    She waits patiently in her palace, planning.
    So that’s where you’ve been,
    whispers Her Majesty,
    Now realizing what she has seen
    Coming through the gates of her royal city.

    She waits quietly on her throne, banning
    All thoughts of malicious mauling,
    Devouring the heart of the girl once a plum tree
    Such a thought is delightfully enthralling
    But these things must be handled delicately

    She waits readily in her chambers, spanning
    A cloak of enticing comfort into the air
    Towards the plum-blossom girl and the fire sprite
    Welcoming them closer, towards her shining lair
    Oh, Her Majesty will eat well tonight.

    It is rightfully mine, that heart she holds within
    How unfair that my birthright be spirited away
    To be placed within that frail, pale-haired siren.
    Once in my palace, she will never get away

    And even thought the anticipation makes her
    Still Her Majesty waits

    1. Imaginalchemy

      Wow, I am quickly realizing what a horrible idea this was with the whole “connecting five poems into one story” idea…guess I should let this one fade into obscurity…not that it was really working anyway.

  110. Michelle Hed

    Something Wicked

    creeps this way
    coming on a windless day.
    To curl up from around your toes
    to tickle and tease your small nose.

    A sweet smell that is overripe
    and makes you want to retch and gripe.
    You can’t help but look behind you
    to see if death walks behind you.

    Nothing there and yet your body is tense
    thinking the boogie man will jump the fence.
    Then with a startled glance and a sniff of the air
    you began to laugh at what was never there.

    For all about you on the street you walk,
    Lined up like sentinels that do not talk.
    Garbage cans…for it is garbage day,
    The sinister smell has gone away.

  111. JanetRuth

    Something about His Hands

    There’s something about the way
    He tugs the sun to the day
    Dissolving the barrier twixt twilight and dawn
    And how each blade of grass
    Gleams like frosted glass
    A sea of diamonds on the front-yard lawn
    And how the breath of God
    As it warms the bud
    Clothes the stark and barren lands
    With vesture so fine
    Beyond human mind
    This makes me believe, we are in good hands

    There’s something about seeds
    The hope for man’s needs
    Knowing when to stir while asleep in the earth
    I marvel in thought
    At how nature is taught
    And yet, within man He placed greater worth
    If we would obey
    As easily as they
    Life would be spared of many an ill
    But He imbued in mankind
    Something called a mind
    And with it the blessed curse of free will

    There’s something about spring
    It makes the heart sing
    As hope and renewal swell in emerald waves
    There’s something about dawn
    That urges us on
    In spite of the dreams we relinquish to graves
    There’s something about the way
    Night is swallowed by day
    Over and over and over again
    That speaks of God’s love
    And His mercy for us
    And the assurance that we are in good Hands

  112. uneven steven

    Something scientific (this way comes)

    I once thought science
    was the antithesis
    of poetry
    confusing the language
    of science
    with its process
    and intent –
    for I had once imagined the impossible
    myself two things at once in two places at once
    and this once lasting forever
    until being defined by love,
    much as the wave particle duality experiment
    proving Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle-
    but now I know that everything is so much more than
    that affects and effects of every other on other
    in a continual process of change
    are the music and rhythm of a universe
    that only some
    can hear
    but all can feel
    in the one wrong or right word in the one wrong or right place
    of a poem that
    changes the world
    much as
    dark matter comprises 83% of
    what’s the matter in a universe
    full of Newton’s laws, evolutionary theory
    and all those vibrating extra dimensional
    strings of possible universes
    expressing itself
    in so fragile a thing
    as the wings of a butterfly
    flapping in a poem
    all chaos and beauty
    and truth

  113. Nancy Posey

    Something Rotten

    While everyone in Elsinore talks in whispers,
    wondering if the round-the-clock manufacture
    of ships and cannons useful only in war
    might simply be a case of Wag the Dog,
    a trumped up conflict with that Norwegian upstart
    to take all eyes off the ill-timed nuptials,
    I wait and watch. I didn’t need a restless spirit
    to tell me something’s rotten. I’ve seen snakebites,
    but none that curdles the blood, turns leprous
    the skin. In Wittenberg I studied figures of speech,
    along with drama, rhetoric, fencing, even math.
    I know some serpents walk on two legs.
    The other Danes may be content to drown in drink
    their suspicions and concerns; I’ll keep my head.
    Already I see figures hiding behind every tapestry—
    not products of my paranoia. They breathe,
    and as they watch my every move, I watch too.

  114. Walt Wojtanik


    It returns to call every April at this time.
    Every year without fail.
    It’s a tale told ad nauseum,
    but I always feel I’m leaving something out.
    It’s not about the absences nestled between
    the clutches unseen over thirty-plus years.
    Much angst and many tears have been
    splurged at the urging of my heart.
    But, I will not start the story over.
    Know that I still love her, and still wish
    that Cancer were only a Tropic near the equator.
    And wishes and dreams dashed by such trash
    lie in the corner of my mind as reminders.
    Someday, I’ll find her again. Someway.
    Sometime in the future if those meetings
    do occur it will be her I’ll seek. But, until I
    see her face again, there’s something I’m missing.

  115. Hannah


    Slow-stolen morning moments,
    swindled before the creeping sun,
    some early time spent climbing,
    scaling the paleness of my skin.
    Dredging with a bottom-net
    I set about to word gather,
    rather I should find creepers;
    green verbs mixed amid growth.
    Drawing my attention instead
    a spider moves along smoothly
    lilting, long-legged on length of wall,
    stalling, stringing out fine silk
    it finds gumption and plunges
    easily to vacant, wide-open spaces.
    In a free fall, faith binding
    riding it out, hoping for a bottom,
    trusting that thread won’t wear
    or come to an end before its destination.
    My heart is hesitant and needy,
    hungry for this kind of strength.
    When I feel the farthest from myself
    from my source that I should be ready,
    willing to bungee jump into the abyss
    permit the search to go deeper,
    descend on His design
    looking for the “something inside.”

    © H.G. @ P.A. 4/12/12

  116. Walt Wojtanik


    Gloom, despair and agony on me,
    dealing with in-laws is my misery,
    sisters by marriage should not disparage
    my feelings, but I’ll be damned
    if Ms. Hamm and her ugly “twin”
    will win any battle unless it was
    below their weight class. They
    cajole and harass, and my ass
    is sick of it. In the thick of it to
    save their father from their wrath,
    What hath…er, have I done to incur their animus?
    Oh, right…I guess I married their sister!

  117. just Lynne

    Something unsettling

    about this street
    the trio of men in black puffy jackets
    circling around a car
    behind the stripped postal truck
    cars flanking the sides of the weary street
    pinched faces watching from behind windows
    nothing clearly wrong
    but something feels wrong

    I grip my notebook of documentation
    walk nervously up the porch stairs
    ring the ancient doorbell
    the woman who answers is angry
    yelling because we never call before our visits
    it’s my first visit
    I apologize
    I take down her phone number
    try to smooth rumpled skin

    I meet my patient
    but the woman won’t let me in
    I stand in the doorway of the bedroom
    while the angry woman says
    all has been done
    I have nothing to do there
    I should leave

    I stand in the doorway
    wanting to argue
    but not sure who to believe

    back to my car
    calling my coworker to ask
    should I push past the doorway?
    should I argue or obey?
    is anyone honest there?

    she says there are so many lies
    to leave and talk to my boss
    make a plan for tomorrow

    I’m hesitant to leave
    nothing is clearly wrong
    but something feels wrong
    I don’t want to leave my patient alone
    yet I don’t want to be on that street

    as cars pull up and the man sneaks around that
    boarded-up house
    finally I shake my head
    pull out my car and head for the highway

      1. just Lynne

        thank you. i was just thinking, now you know the city i live in and very vaguely the work that i do, soon this website will show up outside this house tomorrow, ok maybe not.

  118. JanetRuth

    I am definitely not the early-bird here…but Robert, you really do WOW!!! me every morning. This is a personal fav…thank-you. And the all the rest of you double-wow! Write on…impressive to say the least:)

  119. Anders Bylund

    Something Stupid
    I need something
    Stupid like a first love
    Fitting like an old glove
    Greater than this life.

    You need something
    Stupid like a fat chance
    Corny like the last dance
    Jagged like a knife.

    Let’s do something
    Stupid like fall head over heels
    Crazy just to see how it feels —
    Would you be my wife?

  120. Benjamin Thomas

    Something Blank

    But pure
    Yet inviting
    Clean, fresh

    Something Written

    Written by life experiences
    Tattered, withered, worn
    Word by word suffices
    Every line, every scorn
    Blemished with another pen
    Saturated again and again

    Cluttered, congested
    This page hardly contested
    No room for your words
    New mind, inks or thought
    For indelible oldness
    ineffaceably has been wrought

  121. Jerry Walraven

    “Something so Strong”

    There is no magic
    in the way it’s always been,
    just ruts
    formed in muddy pathways
    which hardened over time
    harder than it needs to be.
    The memory
    that this rut
    did not always exist
    but needed to be created
    eludes us
    as it runs,
    the same way it has always run.
    So hang
    a counter-clockwise clock
    as a small reminder
    it does not always
    need to be that way.

  122. Ber

    Something is not right

    I call to the door
    No one is there
    I look to the window
    I think I saw someone stare
    As I bend down to pick up my key
    A shadow it passes right by me

    This should upset me
    But i am not moved
    I am more interested now
    Have more to prove
    As I walk around the broken down house

    With wood chipped slats around it
    The smell of old mould
    The place not sold
    I wonder who lived here before
    I walk up to open the door

    As I push it open
    It forces me back
    I use all my strength
    Then I hear a crack
    I finally make my way in
    The dusty old place
    The empty bottles of gin

    With cobwebs hanging everywhere
    No light to guide me through
    Something catches my eye
    Maybe I have a clue
    As I hold this picture in my hand
    Of a family from the past

    I hear a cry in the distance
    I can not run to fast
    Will I rush to the door?
    Escape while I can
    Or will I do what I should
    To see who this is

    I decide to stay there
    Moving myself forward
    I hit something
    Oh it is only the chair
    When I look to the corner
    I see a figure in black

    It is an old man crouched over
    He is wailing back
    His eyes are red raw
    His body so thin
    His mouth full of teeth
    Are black with decay

    I call to him do you want me to help you
    He looks he is weak cannot talk
    His eyes say it all
    He lost everything
    He is now left so small
    I bring him to a better place
    Where life can be good
    But as I help him in the car
    His light has left for good

  123. maxie2


    Something blank
    captures stares:
    you’d peer beyond
    smooth nothings,
    drawing dreams,

    penning verses,
    carving worlds
    from your thoughts.
    you rehearse
    probable futures

    and sometimes
    curse the page,
    remember, something
    blank always stares
    back with limitless
    possibility and potential.

  124. Ber

    Something is on my Shoulders

    I do what I can to do all I can
    You push me to my limits
    I can not understand
    Why I have to feel like the one who is doing wrong
    It is hard to do what right
    With the devil singing his song

    He is always shouting at me
    Telling me to get it right
    Picking at my every move
    Can’t get out of his sight
    As I look over my shoulder
    The devil is on my back

    I carry this weight around me
    From morning to night
    Trying not let him get to me
    I move away out of sight
    But he comes and finds me
    It knows I am weak
    It is hard to hide on him
    The devil is stuck to me like glue

    I stand and wonder
    What more can I do
    For this is so unfair
    I am more than a few
    Leave me alone I shout out in my mind
    Stop questioning who I am

    I dare not look behind
    For he is there watching me
    I wish he go away
    As I go about and do my work
    I feel like I am out of my mind
    Leave me now devil leave alone behind

    Standing over me gives you something
    Of nothing I know still
    I close my ears and eyes to you
    I wish I had the will
    To stand my ground I fight back
    But it hard to find the courage
    With the devil on your back

  125. PowerUnit

    Something About It

    Something about it makes me wince.
    My knuckles crack like river ice
    Riding the freshet to the sea
    My cold heart, my hidden desire

    Something about it makes me tremble
    I lay in bed thinking of better times
    The children playing in the park
    Hopes and dreams of youth

    Something about it makes me tingle
    I rise early in the mornings
    Before the invaders wake
    Prepare ye the way!

    Something about it makes me wonder
    My body aches
    My mind wanders
    Denial is a stingy foe

    Something about it makes me smile
    You cast away your demons
    Re-emergence of youth
    Butterflies are free to fly!

  126. Marjory MT


    Somewhere billowing clouds
    on distant blue horizans
    shift from cotton white
    to shades of grey,
    and gathering storms build
    their avenging forces
    to spend upon some
    unsuspection shore.

    1. PKP

      Really enjoyed the crescendoing sense here… (might I perhaps ignorantly ask ..did you intend “unspection shore” I actually enjoy the word ..but wondered if you intended “unsuspecting”

  127. Marjory MT


    I seek that quiet resting place
    wherein the balm of solitude
    allows the heart and mind to rest
    and gather strength
    for times ahead.

  128. Jaywig

    Day 12 – Something (blank)

    Something in the space between my ears …

    They talk to me, you know.
    I’m sure they do, my dear.
    No, really: that rosella
    just said ‘Bye bye’ clear
    as a bell
    -bird! Even the little ones’
    chip chip chip, or magpies’
    googleoogleoogleeoo makes sense.
    Sometimes I feel like sitting
    on the fence
    with them, Don’t you?

  129. Marjory MT


    I keep within my memory
    the things you’ve said and done,
    the places we have traveled too
    and all the joys, the fun.

    It does not seem there will ever be
    someone to take your place,
    to walk beside and guide me
    as I travel in life’s race.

    Some think me foolish for my
    deams and hopes that do not end,
    but I was made to help and love
    he whom I call a friend.

    So do not think me foolish
    for the way I think and feel,
    my God grants prayers and dreams come true,
    and so, to me, they are real.

  130. Iain Douglas Kemp

    Dear Moosehead,
    Phew! That was close! Tuesday down to
    the 12th and last night down to the 10th.
    Nevertheless a sweep for our golden boys!
    There is something in the way Nick Swisher
    swishes that bat and swishes the ball way out
    of the fielders reach that warms my heart,
    especially when he bats in two! There was
    something in the eyes of your mother and sister
    when I dropped them at >Penn Station a few
    minutes ago – too scared to consider exactly what it was.
    Just glad to see the back of them for a few days.
    Let Jimmy the Greek and his old lady worry about their
    craziness for a while. rest day so I’m out making some green.
    Big day tomorrow though – home opener – we’re gonna break
    those Angels harps (geddit?)

    Yours thinking something is in the air,

    Ringo the Howler

  131. PKP

    something in the senses

    There in the wet frangipani bushland  drift white blossoms floating across silken skin -she young and barely there reaches out two fingers to press a petal to her patient palm – soft silence thrums her songbirded pulse as in languid luxuriation  she lifts a hand to brush past parted lips to tilted tongue the frangipangied elixered ecstasy – melting as molten manna she sighs -soaked sentient in sensory satiation – The Shimmering.

    * last night’s NaPoWriMo 5 sense poem (something to stop this spill)

  132. Iain Douglas Kemp

    …stolen from more songs than I can remember

    Something in the Way

    something in the way you walk
    something in the way you talk
    something in the way you call my name
    something in the way you give me the blame
    something in the way you put me to shame
    something in the way you do your hair
    something in the way you stop and stare
    something in the way you don’t care
    something in the way that keeps us apart
    something in the way you break my heart
    something in the way you control me
    something in the way that I can’t see
    something in the way you put me down
    something in the way you ease my frown
    something in the way you wield your knife
    something in the way you changed my life


    1. PSC in CT

      Wow! Must be something about that early morning air! Or, are you channeling Walt for a bit?? Honestly, love to see you being so productive — and so early. I’ve exhausted my time here — gotta run — but let me just say, I love: “…head back swallowing sunshine”. Excellent! :-)

      1. PKP

        Thanks PSC! :) on the Walt “channel” … In days of “yore” W. and I were known to volley some back and forth .. of course he is he and I am me … no comparisons made ….. As I mentioned to Jaywig, for me once the “switch” goes on.. wherever these poems come from just starts spilling… of course productive/prolific does not necessarily a good read make …so I am delighted to get feedback that you did enjoy the ‘swallowing sunshine image.” :) THANK YOU!

        1. Walt Wojtanik

          Agree with Pamela. Very Walt-like indeed. We also had been known to think with the same mind at times, Pamela. My mind is like a steaming pie on the window sill, everyone’s welcome to help themselves every once in a while. That’s ok, I wasn’t using it at the moment…

          Only kiddin Pearl.

          (Just put the empty plate back on the sill!) ;)

          1. PKP

            Yes Walt we were known to “mind-meld” …. :))))))
            Commenting quickly because this site today is very glitchy …I suppose it might be annoyed at that early morning onslaught. (I washed the plate… Take it in before “something knocks it off the sill”

  133. PKP

    something in the smoke

    beyond the wire fence
    where the people live
    in their pajamas all day
    and funny hair cuts
    smoke from chimneys
    puffs – stinky in the
    blue summer sky
    too hot for fireplaces

    1. lionmother

      I’m gathering all of your poems up like you would cards and this is probably the one that sticks out the most. I had to read it a couple of times to realize where this is, but so powerful. The words:
      “too hot for fireplaces/burning” hit hard. Your poems speak like a beautiful morning symphony, even though I’m reading them in the evening.:) This is another poem:
      Sometimes you can’t stop writing…. Don’t know what else to put in it, but will play around with it a little.:)

  134. PKP

    something told her

    it could have been the way
    the door closed that
    afternoon – too softly
    too early- behind him
    as he stood eyes
    smoldering in dark
    darted suspicion
    finding nothing but
    a teacup on the console
    table which he smashed
    with jump started rage
    as he turned his pre-bloodied
    fist to her
    porcelain crunched
    as a wayward fallen
    autumnal leaf
    beneath his booted

        1. emmajordan

          Scary, Pearl. Too scary and real. How long I lived with that “something told her,” and “the way
          the door closed that
          afternoon – too softly
          too early- behind him
          as he stood eyes
          smoldering in dark
          darted suspicion
          finding nothing.” Tell me, did you know my husband?

  135. PKP

    something in the way….

    she talks – with a whispery undertone
    she walks- with purposed strides on tip-toe
    she eats- separating food in quadrants
    she laughs-surprisingly open mouthed
    head back

      1. PKP

        Thank you Benjamin delighted you enjoyed the description and that particular line which I thought at first too oxymoronic or perhaps simply moronic to leave in.. then again it was for me a very early hour :) Much appreciate your stopping and your comment.

  136. PKP

    Something in the air

    On the edge of trembly tremulously
    there something wafting in the air
    vanilla? rain? ephemerally there
    at the rim of recollection

    1. just Lynne

      I like this a lot – love “trembly tremulously” and imagining “the rim of recollection,” the last few letters feel like water dissolving in the air

  137. Khara H.

    Something wild and wonderful

    Hidden in the tucks and folds of her skirts
    were circus animals and wild pollywogs
    dancing on water strings.

    Up beneath the curl of flesh
    she sheltered tiny chimpanzees
    wrapped up into themselves,

    sucking their thumbs for comfort
    from the gazing eyes that name them marketing
    rather than free.

    At her feet the children wait with bated breath
    for lions to appear. Not knowing

    the things that could emerge from this shadowy cloth
    could eat them whole.