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2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 9

For today’s prompt, write a shady poem. I’ll leave the interpretation of this prompt up to you. It could be a poem that includes shadows and/or shading. It could be about a shady part of town or a shady person. Or well, something else.

Here’s my attempt:

“Shady spot”

Beneath every tree
is a shadow ready
to keep a reader and
book safe from the bright sun
on a lazy summer
day when the whole world
just wants a gentle breeze
to chase the heat away.

******

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424 thoughts on “2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 9

  1. donnellyk

    IT REMAINS TO BE SEEN

    In that grey area within that grey matter,
    where shadows loom large cast off
    the frenzied and frolicking, raucous right,
    butting against the sharp and final
    rigid boundaries of the mighty left,
    cold and logical with wet brick walls
    encased answers reside, dripping with reason, slick.
    Powerful but not profound, no tripping the light fantastic there
    no flying dreams and cheribum, no wonder the grey between,
    a vast chasm rarely crossed for though enticing and mysterious,
    damp fear presses as the left demands preciseness, stern,
    the right allows possibilities, forgiveness, welcomes questions
    In my mind’s eye, I see myself haltingly
    traveling the grey area, the shadow off the right
    trenchcoat, my collar up, tapping the walls of the left
    when I haven’t time to tarry, selling a bit of my soul
    for some logic for a left person’s demanding
    delivered, I shed the overcoat and eyes tight shut
    cross the divide back swiftly and through the vine covered gates
    I twirl in my many layered skirts to the hammock
    between the poet trees, where I will rock with sun rays
    and blue jays, and answers not quite so simple, unafraid.

  2. mschied

    Doubt

    It shadows everything

    from the casual smile
    to the friendly accolade

    it insinuates itself
    into every event

    a serpent constricting
    the hope and joy
    and wringing it dry
    a damp dishcloth
    dripping despair

    it borders the promotion
    encircles the celebration
    hangs like a dark halo
    on the precipice
    waiting for the scale to tip
    and the cards to tumble

    in the end,
    it is the only constant
    of your existence

  3. Marian O'Brien Paul

    Shady Lane Connections

    “The Naughty Lady of Shady Lane”:
    a popular song when I was a teen,
    sung by singers like The Ames Brothers,
    The McGuire Sisters, Dean Martin,
    and Dorothy Collins; a song I hummed,
    tapped my toes to, spun the record
    on my turntable, spun my feet on the floor.

    Fast forward thirty years from then,
    stop in Adana, Turkey. That’s me you see
    teaching English to Turkish students;
    freezing after 2:00 pm when the radiators
    were turned off. Across the campus
    offering accounting classes, is an American
    colleague whose wife came with him.

    Our kids becoming friends, our two families
    shared culture shock, exotic explorations
    like Nemrut Dag one chill dawn, a mountain
    tucked between the Tigris and Euphrates.
    Later, back in the USA, we went to visit them,
    a pleasant home hidden under tall trees
    halfway down a street called “Shady Lane.”

  4. taylor graham

    PEACEFUL AND PRIVATE,

    country home on 5 acres, gentle land
    with talons lifting
    from the big blue oak behind the house.
    Carpeted and tiled and, high

    in the oak, a rough stick nest.
    Master bedroom leads to patio, where
    a broad-winged shadow
    passes. Towhees disappear into rock-

    rose. Living room with vaulted ceiling
    and a view of hawk’s red eye.
    Feathered fighter-aircraft
    launches from the oak-top: she tacks,

    glides south on-hunt. One nesting
    hawk will cost 3000
    songbirds. A beaked silhouette
    stretches infant raptor wings. Shadow

    of our new neighbor.

  5. Mike Bayles

    Awning

    light softened
    shadows
    provide relief
    cool contrasts
    midst of summer
    bearing heat
    spread open and ready
    the red awning is
    ready and open spread
    summer of midst
    contrasts cool
    relief provides
    shadows
    softened light

  6. po

    Summer Shade

    Gather together picture books,
    something to eat and drink,
    and a worn E-T sheet. Follow
    the narrow road till it forks into
    two directions. Have a book
    picnic under the shade of a
    two-hundred-year oak with
    your two toddlers, age three
    and four. Wonder of words
    outdoors—ask not if they will
    remember but how could
    they forget?

  7. cajun75

    A Shady Place to Rest

    Hot summer sun
    Reflecting off the
    Cool clear water
    Of the old fishing hole

    Hand-cut cane pole
    Bobber holding my line
    Up off the bottom
    Can of worms at my side

    Feet dangling in the water
    And low-flying birds
    Try to snag a snack
    Of the jumping fish

    I snuggle back against
    The old moss laden tree
    Its outstretched branches
    Offer a respite from the summer sun

  8. cstewart

    Something Shady

    The oak tree with its branches held out like feathers,
    The man in the library looking over his paper,
    The cardboard box left under the park bench,
    And
    The feeling of being in your protected area.

  9. Marcia Gaye

    A Shady Excuse

    I say this every year
    For every April Challenge,
    “This may not be my best work
    But it’s all that I can manage.

    “No time for proper revision.
    I have responsibilities.
    Realize I’m better than this
    Cut me some slack, I beg you, please.”

    And so I huff and puff
    And wear ashes for thirty days,
    But still I check in often enough
    To see if my sloppy stuff
    Has garnered any praise.

  10. Karen H. Phillips

    Day 9
    4-9-2012

    Write a shady poem.

    “…someplace cool and green and shady…”
    John Denver

    Shelter of Shade

    Still the most soothing travel view–
    gliding between trees, leaves broad and green,
    light dappling the road ahead
    and playing into the Camry.
    That cool and green and shady place,
    a-picnic-in-the-Smokies-by-a-mountain-steam,
    where true love buds
    and familial love blossoms.

  11. Tanjamaltija

    Shady Lady

    Curtains drawn shut

    Becoming mere drapes
    Hiding the stage where I play out
    My Life in Secret after Curtain Up.

    Ought I to rearticulate that
    As “my secret life”?

    Cloak and dagger stuff.
    Assignations… or trysts…
    Blinds pulled down over the
    Blind side of my life.

    Missions worthy of a film-plot…
    Shades for a shady lady.

    Life is a stage, or so they say.
    Rephrasing…
    My life, on stage…
    My life, in stages
    Screens screening the hidden side of my life.

    And behind the thick damask curtain,
    Pretending that
    On the set of my personal theatre is a home
    With shutters shutting out intruders.

    And

    A kitchen window with cheery,
    Frilly gingham curtains.

    Lace curtains through which the
    Sun stencils patterns on the floor.

    I am an actress.

    Off-stage, too.

  12. Paoos69

    A Shady Poem

    A dungeon of a street
    Lurking shadows
    Cryptic, deep
    Lonesome figures stroll
    Aimless, listless

    Open drains stench
    Naked children lynch
    Splintered power poles
    Line the streets
    In endless perspective

    A dismal picture
    Outwardly,
    Holds an inward magic
    Assuredly
    All that glitters is not gold

    A small little hut
    Among countless others
    Smiling faces
    A spotless interior
    A dozen people in a roomlet

    One window, one door
    Filtered light through printed curtains
    Living, working, sleeping, waking
    Striving, failing, winning, losing
    Life’s agenda ascertain

  13. Iain Douglas Kemp

    Prompt: shade (PA)
    Dear Moosehead,
    Notwithstanding my missive
    of yesterday I would give a month’s
    pay to go sit in the shade of a great oak tree
    sip on a cold one and forget
    that we just went 0 for 3 down in Tampa.
    As ever I am confident that we will
    put those scrawny little birds firmly in their
    place when we hit bird town today.
    Fried Oriole, like mama used to make –
    my mama, not yours, you know neither
    neither your mother nor your sister can cook
    worth a damn. Once more unto the breech,
    dear boy! We shall overcome! And, yes, I’ll
    mix as many damned metaphors as I please
    as well as making up adjectives to sign off with.
    Pick ya up on the way to the bar – maybe your cousin
    can stand the beer today?

    Yours reclining in the shade of defeat, waiting to bask in glory

    Ringo the Howler

  14. Iain Douglas Kemp

    Shades of Grey

    nothing is ever what it seems
    it’s never that easy
    no black
    no white
    (don’t be deceived by monochrome offers)
    there is always something in between
    always shades of grey
    to blur the edges
    to obscure the truth
    to hide
    what should be presented
    at least
    in black and white
    and best of all
    in full glorious colour

    Iain

  15. carolecole66

    Summer

    No a-c at my grandparents’ farm,
    not the house, not the barn, not
    the chicken coop. The “fruit room,”
    heavy bricked and concrete floor,
    was cool enough to keep eggs
    fresh. But that was it. August
    afternoons when heat drove us
    from the house into the yard
    the still air surrounded us.
    Giant oaks and sugar maples
    shaded us. We sat and breathed
    cut grass and chickens,
    the apple tree and sweat
    the perfume blend of childhood,
    the scent of nothing much to do.

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