2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 14

For today’s prompt, write a doomsday poem. Some of you may remember the world was supposed to end last year (actually twice last year), but that’s nothing new. Every few years there seems to be a new “end of world” prediction (anyone remember Y2K?). In fact, this year had a movie made after it in relation to the Mayan calendar (btw, my dad is one of those who actually believes in the 2012 doomsday prediction), and there’s a whole industry built around end times preparations. So why not write a poem about it?

Here’s my attempt:

“Tax Day Tanka”

They tried to warn me
(over and over) but I
wouldn’t listen, and
now, I’ll have to suck it up
and pay everything due.


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307 thoughts on “2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 14

  1. Jolanta.Stephens

    The day is here
    No amount
    Of preparation
    Can build you confidence
    No knowledge or warning
    Can cease the dropping
    Of your heart into your boots
    When you look at the day
    Circled in red ink
    The day has come
    And you can’t hide
    Parent teacher interview night.

  2. AC Leming

    The Forever War

    Do most marriages end up doomed
    to repeat parents mistakes?
    And do I want to trudge against the tide
    and change how I interact with you?
    When you won’t meet me halfway?
    Are we fated to crash and burn on the platform
    like a North Korean missile?

  3. mschied

    Jailbreak from the Inferno

    They’ve escaped!
    Those tortured souls from down below

    The wretched and the miserable
    the greedy and irascible
    those forced to push a stone uphill
    they’ve gotten out at last

    the devil is beside himself
    Hades is distraught
    Old Screwtape’s gotten rather hearty
    he’s even said he’ll throw a party

    And as for us still left on earth
    it’s rather easy to deduce
    the end of time has come, it’s here
    now that all hell has broken loose

  4. Paoos69


    Don’t they say
    It’s the human way
    To live by deadlines,
    To take action by signs?

    Things just don’t happen
    With the time clock sunken
    Everything needs a timeline
    To click, create and be sublime

    That’s why every so often
    With the timeline open
    There comes a Doomsday threat
    So you can pull up your socks and fret

    Take action and get going
    Something fruitful with their lives start doing
    Every so often it’s a boon in disguise
    For all alike, rich or poor, weathly or wise

  5. ratgirl


    Why do we revisit tragedy with tears,
    Not from pain, but of humility
    In the presence of unfathomable beauty?
    What is it in our nature that draws us
    To the striking perfection of the deadly,
    To the impossibly smooth glossy blackness
    Of the widow spider, the adrenalin bright X
    in red that nearly glows like the bioluminescence
    Of the deepest undersea monsters, the vermillion
    Song that says, “touch me, little one.”
    We forget, somehow, that loss is forever,
    An abrupt cut in the ribbon of time, the rest
    Thrown away, still wound upon the spool.

    Is it the hypnotic desire to know the end
    Of our story? Sucked into the tar like dinosaurs, or
    Snapped and swallowed in the gullet of a crocodile,
    Like the shivering Impala, gone despite all
    Inborn, instinctive caution. Is there
    A Shakespearian drama hiding in the drought?
    When the rain won’t come, we are forced
    To brave the marsh. We march, well aware
    We approach a pool of death, as much as life,
    But we’re born with an insatiable thirst
    That demands relief, a voice louder than self-
    Preservation. Compulsory or just compulsive?
    We’re driven to the river’s edge, and for that
    And that alone, the crocodile lives older than time.
    We willingly crawl into death like a second skin,
    A soft pillow at the end of the relentless daylight.

  6. Marian O'Brien Paul

    Doomsday’s Done

    As I’ve informed my readers,
    (prior to my revelations they
    were unaware they are subjects
    of the Emperor) “Doomsday”
    has already come, “like a thief
    in the night” said my son, and
    it is over. I think that means
    we are living in 1,000 years
    of peace, according to some
    predictions. Still, I must admit
    convincing me is no easy task
    (mea culpa) for the Emperor.
    “Seeing is believing,” I tell him.

  7. Arike


    Hums a mother stirring soup
    Yesterday’s potato peels alright for
    Five children in a graveyard of
    Five billion asphyxiated due to lack
    Of rainforest, abundance of salt water
    Quite exotic, the occassional purple sun
    No worries
    Just don’t ask where the meat’s from

  8. Pat Carroll Marcantel

    Shakespeare Dreamed One More Sonnet (tanka)

    My world ended last

    year when they could not bring you

    back. I heard stars fall

    from the sky and as I wept,

    Shakespeare dreamed one more sonnet.

    Pat Carroll Marcantel

  9. Caren

    Trust Me

    In the name of all that’s quite insane
    I come to you today,
    To say the planet’s final hours
    Are only days away!

    But don’t be worried, I’ve a plan
    To keep you safe and whole.
    I guarantee that you’ll be fine;
    You’re welfare is my goal.

    There’s just a little detail first
    To secure your life to be;
    Just gather up your valuables,
    And ship them all to me.

    I know you’re thinking, “What a scam!”
    But trust me, I know best!
    Do you really want to take a chance,
    And be lost with all the rest?

    Just close your eyes and sit right down,
    There’s nothing more to see
    And while you wait for your new life,
    Tahiti waits for me!

    Caren E. Salas

  10. Tanjamaltija

    The End

    Rainbow dreams dissolve into a murky mess
    Candles of new hope melt into congealed mounds of naught.
    Flames of passion stabbed to death with icicles of apathy
    And yesterday’s looks of love are today’s empty gazes.
    Hands once so warm no longer cherish
    And snatched moments of love, no longer sought.

  11. David Yockel Jr.

    Take a Number

    The end of the world would really be
    a mixed bag. Sure you wouldn’t have to
    pay back those school loans or spend
    an hour shoveling your car out of the driveway

    in the morning. No more awkward dinners
    with your in-laws or back-breaking yard
    maintenance. No more flat tires, faulty
    air-conditioners, roosters, or alimony.

    And, whether it’s fire or ice, it sure will be
    something. We could skate across the great lakes

    or picnic under a dry and radiant, red sun.
    But, when it’s finally over, that line
    at the pearly gates will be worse

    than an L.A. Department of Motor Vehicles,
    filled with a sweaty, salty congregation sitting

    in rows and rows of donated pews.

  12. foodpoet


    Doomsday in the digital age,
    Once we would come together bound by family
    Once we would come together bound by clan, land, country, now
    Monitors, bites bytes and data plans rule the world.
    Sign up, sign in, sign out.
    Digital pets can outlive us.
    All is available on-line,
    Yet in the wings, solar flares disrupt.

  13. Jaywig

    Day 14 – doomsday

    What will they think of next?
    And why? I watch the ants swarm
    and small birds fly
    like arrows into the trees’ eyes.
    Once there were dinosaurs
    giants of the forests. Upheaval,
    ice, foreign bodies did them in.
    Those birds their reincarnation.
    And will we, big-headed,
    pig-headed, sometimes
    two-headed, return, shrunken,
    stamping our feet
    (as we do) at the unfairness
    of life, at whoever makes us
    begin … again!!

  14. maxie2


    yours comes the moment
    beliefs are negotiated
    to earn a dollar

    implosions start
    with the concession
    that beauty is useless
    unless sold

    the exchange of dignity
    for jewels or fame
    or a name
    reflecting all that you are not

    will be forgot
    when all your righteous
    pretense explodes

  15. po

    desert days

    the lone yucca
    cactus greets the
    morning sun
    with the accordian
    white sand

    in the distance
    the blue sky
    goes on forever
    but it is December
    2012 and according
    to an ancient Mayan

    calendar we’re about
    to fly off the planet

  16. Melissa Hager


    It is hard to create
    doomsday images
    when it’s a gorgeous day
    in Asheville.
    Bride is gussying up
    for the show.
    Her mother is glowing
    even in her texts to me
    as they finish hair and makeup.
    I sit in a Thai restaurant
    writing this poem as
    my kids are busking
    on the corner outside.
    We are in our element.
    If the end of days is here,
    we’ll die knowing
    our last day on earth
    was a blessed one.

  17. Khara H.

    The song they sung

    We must take the children back to the woods.
    Too long we tilled this soil to loose
    our harvest from these swollen hands, these palms
    rolled smooth and warm with summer breezes.

    We got they cinnamon hearts suckled in our own bones,
    so we must take them back to the woods.

    We must dip gourd hollows deep into the water,
    drink long and memorize they faces.

    Wrap them up in burlap, honey—tuck them in
    some fresh warm buns and cheese round whiter
    than they bones. Take them out, take them out,
    take them deep into the woods—

    and let them wander where the ravens go.

    Cross the river, sweetness, cross the stream.
    Taste freedom with your toes and breathe deep.
    Take them, lord have mercy, take them,
    back down into the woods.

    For it is reaping day.

  18. ceeess

    14 line Doomsday Sonnet of Whimper and Bang

    This is the way the world ends/Not with a bang but a whimper.
    – T.S. Eliot The Hollow Men

    A whimper of hail, fire, blood, horses.
    The white. the red. the black. the pale.
    A meditational shatter of rapture, its undimmed variations.
    Carpe diem. read Nostradamus. Revelations. Mayan quarterly.
    Aquarius pours knowledge into a virtual jug. quench.
    The Age of Pisces ends. bang. Mayan wisdom. 3114 B.C.
    (The Spanish churched them into catholics & whimper)
    Hotel rooms in the Maya region? No room at the inn.

    Whimpering world_end a smash of asteroid. A perturbation of orbit and bang.
    Hadron Collider creates microscopic black holes.
    Hypothetical. strangelets. an instant swallow.
    The speeding universe inhales every 25,000 years.
    Thinking end of world? message: the world will/will not end.
    This would mean nothing. Or the Green Party could win a majority.

    Carol A. Stephen
    April 14, 2012

  19. deringer1


    Every day is doomsday
    for someone.

    the body buried in rubble
    left by a bomb

    the teenager crushed in the wreck
    of his speeding car

    the young mother told she has
    an incurable cancer

    the military wife opening her door
    to a chaplain

    and me, of course,
    the day you said goodbye.

  20. Jane Beal - sanctuarypoet.net

    “The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse”

    I came to the words, and I saw brightly
    White Horse and his victorious rider!
    I saw his yew-bow and his shining crown—
    I saw he came to conquer the whole earth.

    Our father moves through dooms of love

    I saw Red Horse and his robber-rider,
    who comes to steal all peace from the good earth.
    I saw his upraised sword, flashing and keen,
    and men slaying one another all day.

    Our father moves through dooms of love

    I saw Black Horse and his rider, a judge,
    with uplifted scales, imbalanced, in hand,
    declaring devastation to the wheat—
    high prices to the poor but wine for the rich!

    Our father moves through dooms of love

    I saw Pale Horse, and his rider’s name
    was Death. From him flowed famine, pestilence,
    death by the sword and the rage of wild beasts,
    crying out for the blood of unborn babes.

    Our father moves through dooms of love

    O Michael! Gabriel! Raphael and
    Uriel! Bring your mighty winds to blow
    from the four corners of the universe
    on our hearts in fear of the Last Judgement—

    that we might turn, and pray, and heal before
    the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

    Jane Beal

  21. tunesmiff


    It won’t matter,
    If the earth stops turning,
    It won’t matter,
    If the sun stops burning,
    It won’t matter,
    If the stars fall from the sky,
    ‘Cause my world ended when
    You said, “Good-bye.”

    It won’t matter,
    If the birds stop singing,
    It won’t matter,
    If the bells stop ringing,
    It won’t matter,
    If the rivers run dry,
    ‘Cause my world ended when
    You said, “Good-bye.”

    There are folks,
    Who won’t agree;
    But it’s plain,
    That they don’t see,
    Just how lonesome,
    I can be,
    Since you said,
    Good-bye to me.

    It won’t matter,
    If the mountains crumble,
    It won’t matter,
    If the thunder won’t rumble,
    It won’t matter,
    If the the tides run high,
    ‘Cause my world ended when
    You said, “Good-bye.”

    There are folks,
    Who won’t agree;
    But it’s plain,
    That they don’t see,
    Just how lonesome,
    I can be,
    Since you said,
    Good-bye to me.

    It won’t matter,
    If the wind stops blowing,
    It won’t matter,
    If the grass stops growing,
    It won’t matter,
    If I ask Why? Why? Why?
    ‘Cause my world ended when
    You said, “Good-bye.”

    Yeah, my world ended when you said

  22. randalljweiss

    “Sundays in Oklahoma”

    I had a sip of wine at church, but
    the Rector wouldn’t tilt the chalice enough.
    I fired up the grill in the afternoon, immediately
    craving an ice cold brew. Then I recalled
    the date–Sunday. Only 3-point on the shelves
    at the corner store. Package stores shut
    for the holy day. Whole in my day.

  23. cstewart


    The end is always the beginning.
    If we could only remember that
    Everything would be a lot easier,
    But we hold on to everything,
    Like it was all we will ever have.

    Then it is all we have.

  24. hurtin-heart

    So many predictions of the end of the world!
    Some have passed and some have yet to come.
    Many believe these predictions to come true,
    The beliefs of fools.
    I believe no one will know of his coming
    Until they hear the trumpet sounding.
    And like a thief in the night
    God’s children will take flight.
    Many in the last days will be decieved
    And their will be gnawing and gnashing of the teeth.
    Yet the prophesies in the bible must be fulfilled.
    and many know not that the antichrist may already be here.
    For they are blinded by his disquise.
    His mouth is a sword,yet words spews out like honey.
    Some even call him messiah,for he has great power.
    you must get your bible out and begin to read and pray,
    For their will be no doubt when all eyes are upon the
    messiah on doomsday.

  25. cstewart

    Portending/Pretending End of the World Poem

    Life’s burdensome
    Criteria, Some laughter,
    License, and loving,
    Worlds apart and away,
    Disburse, hello universe.

  26. Iain Douglas Kemp

    Dear Moosehead,
    Ha! 5 – 0!!! On opening day at that!
    It’s doom and gloom in the As bullpen
    and in the dugout too! Rejoice at their demise,
    amigo. Dance and sing and glory in the
    death-knell that sounds for wandering Angels.
    Harpies out-of-town & I couldn’t be less gloomy,
    less contemplating the doom of man – just
    rollin’ with the tide smiling like a Cheshire cat.
    Pick ya up at 12 – I stand the dogs and beer.

    Yours doomed to happiness and joy
    Ringo the Howler

  27. Iain Douglas Kemp

    The End is Nigh

    They worked it out
    with so much care
    and so much skill
    and carved it in stone
    to remain for all time
    or at least the time that remained…

    …The Mayan scholars didn’t account
    for a Roman General who saw time
    in a slightly different way
    Julius Caesar (for it was he)
    saw that the calendar was incorrect
    and two months were added for balance
    and then
    in a stroke of genius
    the leap year that would keep us all in check
    every fourth year

    They worked it out
    with so much care
    and so much skill
    and carved it in stone
    to remain for all time
    and predicted that
    (leap years included)
    that the world would end
    eight months and 3 days ago
    (more or less),
    on a Tuesday at about 3:15p.m…

    …the end is nigh,
    just not quite
    as nigh as we thought!


  28. gtabasso


    The end of the world has come so many times
    that she has stopped believing —
    dad’s leather strap across the ass
    until blisters filled with blood;
    virginity lost to a man who said
    she looked like she had a baby at 16
    and legs like treestumps
    because she couldn’t feel his penis;
    drunk and raped buy a guy
    who offered her a ride home;
    a fiance who moved out on St. Patty’s Day
    while she was at work
    and another with a DUI, another addicted
    to drugs, women, self-destruction,
    and so on;
    a hemoglobin count of three
    at age 32 with bone marrow biopsies,
    spinal tap, transfusions;
    house flooded from a water line break
    job lost after an accident
    that crippled her for six weeks.

    Yet, she is here. Alone.
    The last one left on earth.
    Alive and together.
    You cannot scare her anymore.

  29. Katrin

    For some, it’s the final glare
    of Last Light

    For others, it’s the day
    when Honey-Ginger lipstick colour
    is discontinued

    But today,
    it’s just a few puzzle pieces
    of last chances
    –swim before the logrolling
    championships take over the pool
    –remember it’s milk-pickup day before
    the farmer/bike mechanic takes the
    unclaimed jars back to the farm
    –kiss the kids before they spill off into
    their busy days
    –pick up opera music TODAY
    so I’m not sight-reading under the
    conductor’s nose.

    Doomsday’s a relative word, nowadays,
    with its spandex wardrobe,
    isn’t it?

  30. Margot Suydam

    May Day

    Flowers will bloom, bulge the empyrean
    blue, stitching peaceful threads in day glow glide
    as if to charm youths in tattered denim
    marching tall steps with hope to stem the tide
    of past-time war-time rack and ruin. Still calls
    for help are unheard amidst slippery
    dins of piratic planks and gunner walls,
    all power tilted, a spent battery.
    But still we scrub our faces clean, awake
    blossoms that are nothing more than hope
    parade with banners tucked at armpits gate,
    a chance spring gloves clean white as soap
    Breathe we always hold, what remains at stake
    a promise of may or may not: We wait.

  31. Michele Brenton


    There is no moment I can find
    unravelling the tangle
    following the threads
    digging through the dirt
    and mess
    and bleeding.

    No point where I could have
    seen the harm
    seen the failure
    hiding behind sunshine
    poised like a spider
    measuring each trembling
    silken event
    to determine
    when best to deal the killing blow,
    dripping venom along pathways,
    entering my soul,
    withering and blackening,
    shrivelling, ensuring
    there could be no renewal.

    As my eyes dry up and my tongue cleaves
    to my mouth
    I have no tears, no words.
    My skin cracks,
    My heart bursts
    and death is a kindness
    with soothing songs
    endless sleep
    and no more dreams.

    The spider feeds.


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