November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 12

For today’s prompt, I want you to write a poem that focuses on or discusses a tiny detail. It could be a tiny detail that is often overlooked, and you’d like to call attention to it. The detail could be one that if overlooked can cause good or bad things to happen.

Here’s my attempt for the day:


Not all werewolves wear shirts,
and those that do don’t always rip them,
though sometimes they do.

And the same goes for their pants,
with some wearing ’em and others not.

Of course, it’s a minor detail, but that’s why
I always kind of preferred the Wolf Man,
because he had a nice buttoned-up shirt
tucked into his pants. A gentle, though feral,
man who had a penchant for strangulation.

As the full moon peaks from behind dark clouds,
the gentleman grows hair, claws and sharp teeth–
his clenched fists open and search for a victim.


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71 thoughts on “November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 12

  1. Lynne

    Dandelion Trivia

    To coax guffaws and giggles out
    of 8-year old boys and girls
    tell them the French name for dandelion
    is pis-en-lit, wet-the-bed in English.

    When the laughter dies down,
    explain that herbalists use this
    plant as a diuretic. Young children
    in France are cautioned not to eat
    dandelion salads with their evening meal

  2. Kathy Kehrli

    XII. Shuffling a Groove in the Floor

    As he hovered between life and death,
    His heart, lungs and kidneys
    Functioning thanks only to
    Machines and pharmaceuticals,
    My own organs kicked into overdrive.
    As if mine compensating for his,
    They pounded to anxiety’s beat
    And an irresistible urge
    Drew my feet to the ICU dance floor.
    As I walked that cursed hallway—
    Down which they’d wheeled my lifeless dad—
    Back and forth, up and bottomward,
    I burned the linoleum pattern on my brain.
    Mauve and turquoise tiles
    Catty-cornering dingy cream,
    I’d come to abhor a color
    Combination I’d once yenned.
    “You’re still pacing,” he observed.
    “I’ve been pacing for three days.”
    This underfooting and my soles
    Are now best friends.

  3. Penny Henderson

    I’m getting a grip–skipping the reading–will return later for a proper perusal

    day # 12 often overlooked detail

    Red wine, fish and whole grain
    have no chance against
    a random gene
    your Grandpa dumped in the pool.

  4. Taylor Graham


    We walk on other people’s all the time,
    not imagining those folks might need them,
    after they’ve passed on. As useless
    as their shadows, you might say.

    But look at those folks in orange shirts,
    down on hands and knees, staring
    at the dirt in a vacant lot. And look across
    the fence at a homeowner who’s just called

    the police to investigate this suspicious
    behavior. The patrol car pulls up, one
    of the orange-shirts tries to explain:
    a search-and-rescue exercise, mantracking,

    following a set of scuffs in sand. Just a tiny
    clue, that might lead step-by-step
    one day to a missing hunter – a man
    who needs his footprint like a shadow.

  5. Terri Vega

    Day 12:

    Prolific mints
    sprawl out of bounds; over the rock
    border of the garden wall

    Creeping into the lawn
    growing their way
    across the backyard
    out of control

    Roots uncontained travel
    on forever. Pots of mints
    for all the needs
    offer freely their
    bounty within the compass.

  6. Tyger

    Like King Arthur

    Like King Arthur
    who gathered
    knights from all
    the great kingdoms,
    because they believed
    he could unite the land
    and bring together
    in peace
    Obama gathers knights
    and knightesses
    from all the great

  7. Juanita Snyder

    I’ve found my calling…er topic…somebody stop me! (attempt #3) –spideyLOL

    poetry is
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    poetry is slipping off your socks
    just to take a chance and see
    how the floor feels
    against you,
    in spite the risk of

  8. Juanita Snyder

    well, well….seems like I’m on a roll! –spidey

    the memory of dust
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    the funny thing about
    dust is
    no matter how many times
    you chase it from around corners,
    push it off shelves and desktops,
    or wipe it off the face of the earth,
    it has the memory of a galapagos sea tortise
    and continues to remember
    all its former residences,
    before the can of Pledge and Endust,
    feathers and dust cloths,
    mops and vacuums,
    filters and static cling,
    before dander and climate,
    the EPA and even
    the Big Bang himself
    can dare take
    full credit.

  9. Juanita Snyder

    fair showgirls
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    lovely dappled faces
    pressed together in
    gossip and concentration,
    staving off nerves
    between bites of
    carnie food
    and other no-no’s.
    bottles of nail polish &
    show sheen line shelves
    just before show time.
    long colorful ribbons
    chase pesky flies,
    becoming entangled
    about hair & shoulders,
    bouncing amid giggles
    and side glances at
    the stud just across the aisle,
    hoping to be the one
    that finally gets noticed,
    (or at least the blue ribbon)
    this time,
    my northwest equine beauty.

  10. Jolanta Laurinaitis

    Killing in the Name of Hollywood

    Camera’s flashing
    Hollywood smiles glistening
    T-shirt slogans bilboarding
    Across silicone breasts
    Of love for earth and
    Saving her life
    5% of film profits
    Going to re-plant
    Native bushland
    With new genetically modified
    Silicone plants that
    Never die and need no care

    Adderbolt leans down and whispers
    In Gaia’s ear

    "I think
    They forgot
    The tiny detail
    About the lights, camera and action
    Causing your death."

    Gaia nods wearily.

  11. Vanessa O'Dwyer


    Man – Woman
    Girl – Boy
    Married, Single,
    Widowed, Gay

    Dressed – Naked
    Black – White
    Is it wrong?
    Who can say?

    Deitistic – Atheistic
    Headscarf – Flowing hair
    If the Devil’s in the details
    Why are they lurking there?

    To fuss about the minor points
    To nitpick and to yelp
    Never dawning upon them
    To get off their ass and help.

    Vanessa O’Dwyer

  12. Rodney C. Walmer

    The Line

    He stored the jar on a shelf
    oh, so many years ago
    year after year
    gathering dust it sat there
    though he’d forgot himself

    Then one day
    there was but a minor quake
    many would say
    it was naught but a quiver
    to call it a quake was a mistake

    During the shake
    the jar developed a sliver
    though some might call it a crack
    it mattered not
    for it’s contents it began to deliver

    At first there was just an ooze
    odorless, it foamed at the edge
    he ignored it,
    thinking he had nothing to loose

    The liquid fell to the can on the floor
    burned right through
    though he never knew
    from the other side of the door

    Forgetting the acid,
    ignoring the crack
    the little he did
    time he could never have back
    all led to flames and the fire

    He suffered serious burns that night
    he rebuilt, something you have to admire
    that he learned from his insight
    that was something not even he could desire.. .

    ©Rodney C. Walmer 11/14/08 Single detail poem.

  13. Karen H. Phillips

    Gustave Corbet, French (1819-77)
    The Silent River, 1868

    A Small Thing

    No focus.
    The scene divides in half,
    a rocky bluff one side of the river,
    a tall graceful tree on the other,
    the tree shaped like a sheaf
    of cotton candy.
    Perhaps there’s no focus,
    but what the observer observes
    is the bluff,
    overtaken with greenery
    on its top, tip, and sides,
    the trees and undergrowth mingle
    until someone can’t distinguish
    one from the other.
    Overtaken, with what appears
    all the same green.
    Yet up close, myriad greens
    make up the tangle.
    A small thing,
    but nonetheless important
    in some way,
    or the artist wouldn’t have
    captured it
    forever on canvas.

  14. Mary K

    In One Second

    In one second life can forever change;
    someone becomes pregnant, falls
    downstairs, opens the door to the
    intruder, hears it’s cancer, it’s over,
    it’s too late, sees a look she was not
    meant to see, speaks words without
    thought, cannot pull them back, pulls
    the trigger, encounters black ice, skids
    can’t stop. All it takes is one second
    for life to twist down an unforeseen path
    and directions to the former path are lost.

  15. kate

    The website wouldn’t let me on last night for some reason, so here’s my poem a little late.

    A six year old wielding his power

    You wouldn’t think
    there’d be much to choose
    between one teaspoon
    and another,
    but if I give him
    the one with embossed petals
    or elegant curlicues
    on the handle
    he’ll make a fuss,
    he wants the plain one
    although it won’t change the taste
    of his yoghurt.

  16. PSC in CT

    Smiles Went Missing

    Such a sweet, bright child
    Full of color and light
    An artist from the start
    Preschool portraits
    Meticulously depicting
    Eyes with irises, pupils and lashes
    Bewhiskered pets,
    Fish with fins and gills,
    All loved ones –
    Ubiquitous smiles

    Outgrowing crayons
    You turned to tempera,
    Acrylics, watercolors and oils –
    Still stippling in
    Color and light –
    Splashing smiles

    I wander your room
    A visitor at the museum
    Seeking enlightenment
    Scrutinizing each canvas
    Struggling to discern
    Exactly when
    Smiles went

  17. Don Swearingen

    All day the sun and clouds have fought
    To dominate the sky
    The sun marched, a juggernaut
    Sweeping clouds aside to dry
    The grass and trees
    Drenched by a cloud careering
    By, rumbling as it flees
    To the East, leering
    Back with lurid flashes.
    But the sun shoulders itself ahead
    Shrugging off the thunderous crashes
    Promising to return from its Western bed.
    And as the night folds itself around me again
    I think of you. And ask the stars yet again. When?

  18. Nancy

    In Five Minutes

    One alone at the
    lunch table
    trying to look
    busy behind a book

    Two pass by, balancing
    lunch trays, their
    daily dose of chicken
    fingers and Coke.

    Three empty chairs
    sit as
    silent accusations:
    Who’d want to sit
    by you?

    Four strangers crane
    their necks, looking
    for an open spot and ask
    “Are these seats taken?

    Five words—stuck in
    her throat—finally
    escape: Feel free to
    join me.

    For the first time
    this school year,
    she won’t eat

    A second later
    she realizes, they’re
    eyeing her chair

    With third lunch
    packed to capacity,
    no one simply sits
    and reads.
    Do they?

    Back and forth she
    scans the room for one more
    chair, a peace offering,
    buying time
    in company.

    A fifth wheel, she
    finally blushes, marks
    her page, and rising,
    heads to the hallway
    to wait for the bell.

    Nancy Posey

  19. lynn rose

    You can not see me
    I am something that people take for granted most days of there lives.It is a feeling you have for a child, friend,husband or wife. You can not see me, but I am there. I can be sitting with the remote in an easy chair. I’m in a smile and a laugh, I may even be in a cup of coffee. I can make you scream and cry your head off when I have done you wrong, or I am lost. For love comes in many different forms, love of someone is the most precious of all. But when lost, you pay the cost. I am overlooked by many and just assumed by some. Make sure you share me with someone.

    I know this was suppose to be about a tiny detail that might be overlooked. I think this is something that is tiny in many lives for they just assume it will always be there.


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