November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 16

Every once in a while, I like to offer these title prompts where you fill in the blanks on a title. For instance, I want you to write a poem today with a title that is: “If It (blank), It (blank)”

So an example title might be: “If It (Hangs From the Ceiling), It (Smells Like Flowers)”

And to give you some flexibility, I’ll even let you replace the “It” words with a specific noun. So, to take my earlier example, the title could be: “If a Basket Hangs From the Ceiling, It Smells Like Flowers”

Here’s my attempt for the day:

“If the door goes unlocked, it could easily open”

she forgets to lock the front door
but doesn’t stress the details

not like anyone is waiting outside
wanting to get in


she forgets to lock the back door
the bathroom door
closes her eyes when she rinses her hair
so that she doesn’t know
when someone is there


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60 thoughts on “November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 16

  1. Lynne

    No Do-Overs

    If it’s done, it follows that
    it can be undone. Not so in
    most vital happenings. Once we
    deplete the natural resources
    on our small planet, once we
    render a species extinct,
    that is it, it is done, final, nadir.

  2. Kathy Kehrli

    XVII. If It Needs Revealing, It Will Be Forthcoming

    Living will in hand I asked
    My father’s pastor friend
    What the Bible has to say
    About measures that extend
    A life beyond which a body
    Can on its own survive.
    Scripturally speaking is it sound
    To keep someone such alive?
    A part of me stopped and wavered;
    The other knew it not mine
    The right to defy a final wish,
    To interfere with the divine
    Stratagem God had preordained,
    And still I couldn’t let go.
    Until such time I saw further decline
    Those requests they needn’t yet know.

  3. Penny Henderson

    day #16 If it’s shakey, it will fall

    The rock on a ledge
    will spur avalanche
    tipping over the edge.

    The bone shaking fever
    will fall like cold rain
    when it finally leaves her.

    Schemes built on lies
    collapse when truth
    spreads wing and flies

  4. Iris Deurmyer

    If it tastes pure it must be

    My neigbor drinks water from the tap
    Says it tastes fine to him
    When we go camping in the woods
    He drinks from where he takes a swim
    I will let him peer through my microscope
    One slide with just a drop of water
    It may cause him to drink only coffee
    Or milk or soda or gin

  5. S.E.Ingraham

    If it’s Mid-November, It must be over

    Two weddings within two weeks
    Turned out to be too much
    For one of the fathers present
    Serious as a heart-attack took on real meaning
    As the father of one of the brides
    And, as it happens, one of the grooms
    Collapsed, soon after all the festivities
    Ended,had to be rushed to the nearest
    “Tourist” hospital where-upon he was found
    To have suffered a heart attack but,
    Then began to cough up copious amounts
    Of blood! Leading to further tests which
    Resulted in an ambulance transfer to a
    Real hospital in a big city and the discovery
    Of several bleeding ulcers in addition
    To the original heart problem

    So – what began as a wonderful holiday
    Culminating in a beautiful wedding
    For one couple, one set of parents, and friends
    Ended quite differently for the second couple et al
    Who, while managing to pull off the lovely wedding part
    Did not get to enjoy the ensuing wonderful holiday
    They were tacking on the other side of their nuptials
    As they are spending that time at a hospital with the father
    And making other arrangements, trying to get back home
    Hoping and praying that everything is going to be alright

    This type of surreal action has resulted in a disruption
    Of major proportions for the subject/poet who is supposed
    To maintain a schedule and routine that is barely disrupted
    Ever – and as self-absorbed as this must seem, said subject
    Is somewhat terrified as she feels depression licking around
    The edges of her consciousness when sleep threatens
    To overwhelm her days and tears rise unbidden in her eyes
    She knows all too well, how stealthy the disorders can be
    How tricky their manoeuvres, and how easily they can settle in
    Before she realizes their intentions – just because it’s been
    The longest while since they’ve put in an appearance
    Does not mean they are gone for good – she must remember this
    She must not forget for a second that they lie
    in wait like hyenas
    Like voracious underfed hyenas, they are lurking, she knows
    She must never forget, it’s not self-absorption, she knows,
    It’s self-preservation and theirs, her loved ones
    depend on hers
    This she knows and must, at all cost, remember,
    she knows, she knows.

  6. Karen H. Phillips

    Creepy, Robert! Great, next time I’m home alone that poem will be stuck in my head.

    Claude Monet, French (1840-1926)
    The Islets at Port Villez, 1897

    If Eyesight Dims, Is It a Handicap?

    If vision blurs over time,
    how does the artist know
    what he sees and thus
    what he paints?

    Are the pastel colors and
    blurry lines purposed
    toward diagonal,
    even circular motion
    by brushstrokes fine?

    Does he mean to dance the
    trees and rushes
    across the canvas,
    whirl the mauve,

    Does he intend to
    inject the scene
    with vitality,
    even as he creates
    a sense of peace
    and joy?

  7. Monica Martin

    "If it’s decorated, it feels like home."

    A few frames on the wall,
    a vase of lilies on the table.
    The pantry is full of food,
    the cabinets hold dishes.
    The beds are made,
    the towels are folded.
    Your house is now a home.

  8. SaraV


    If it has fins, It swims
    If it has a beak, it squawks
    If it is green, it grows
    If it has wings, it flies
    If it has a tail, it lashes it
    If it has legs, it runs
    If it is very still, it catches fish
    If it has flowers, it has butterflies
    If it rains, it doesn’t care
    If I I have a bad day,
    It disappears when I watch "Its" at play

  9. Vanessa O'Dwyer


    If it was known they had rights,
    It would mean my demise.
    To keep me out of their sights
    I need to bear a disguise
    I’ll hide my weasel thoughts
    From the light of the day
    And turn their future oughts
    Into despair and decay
    For I am the hater
    But as that you’ll know me not.
    I keep the wars a going
    Defy me; I’ll see you shot
    No one should know
    The power they wield
    Nor should they know
    How it acts as a shield
    Against scoundrels as I
    Rights they should have?
    I would rather they die!
    So holding this in as much as I might
    I quietly hold back my despise
    For if it was known that they had rights,
    It would surely mean my demise.

    Vanessa O’Dwyer

  10. k weber


    i remember you
    from the mail:
    me songs
    from long

    we live
    in the same
    town, never
    seem to cross
    carts in super-
    markets or small
    talk our way
    post office

    i know you
    by envelopes
    and address
    and you
    go to the open
    mics i went
    to, only a few
    years too


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