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November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 4

Categories: November PAD Chapbook Challenge, Poetry Prompts.

I’ve heard the pleas from the Poetic Asides commonwealth asking that I post the November PAD prompts earlier in the day. I’ve been on Main Street and seen Joe Poet and Jane Poet working to put food on the table and still write a poem-a-day. I’ve visited schools, hospitals, and random fast-food restaurants and hear the same stories of “earlier prompts” in every large city and small town. From the corporate CEO to the amateur hockey mom, all poets seem to want the prompts earlier in the day.


And I agree, which is why I will make an attempt to post earlier in the day for the rest of the month. The beginning of this month was a little rough because of a database project related to WritersMarket.com, but that’s no excuse for getting the prompts out later in the day. So be prepared for earlier prompts. Be very prepared.


I am Robert Lee Brewer, and I endorse this message.


*****


Whew! I am sooooooo glad the political ads will come to a halt today. At least for a little while anyway (since the political season is now almost a year-round phenomenon). As many of you know (even if you’re living outside the U.S.), today is election day in the United States of America. Hooray for voting and having a voice! (Even if I do usually back the losing candidate.)


For today’s prompt, I want you to write a “soap box” poem on your theme. If your theme is food, have an asparagus campaign for less discrimination against veggies. If your subject is parenting, maybe make a case for having one hour or less of TV each night in favor of playing board games or doing a family activity. Regardless of your theme, today is the day you can pull out that soap box, dust it off, stand on it, and take a stance on an issue (or several issues–heck, this could turn into someone’s theme).


Here’s my attempt for the day:


“Monster Rights”


-speech delivered by The Mummy


You all know me; I’ve been around for centuries
just hanging out in my tomb. Some people come and
wake me up, and then they get mad at me when I’m
a little grumpy. I mean, have you ever been
woken after a very long sleep? You’re grumpy,
simple as that. Just ask my friend Godzilla, who
has had more than his fair share of interruptions
to long sleeps. And that’s exactly what I’m trying
to get at. We are not the problem; people are.


Dracula, you need blood to stay alive, correct?
But when, my friend, have people stopped to consider
your needs as a living, breathing, undead creature?
Never! They just try killing you like a common
mosquito, walking around with their wooden stakes,
mirrors, crosses, holy water, and attitudes.


Frankenstein’s Monster, did you ask to be created?
And who, may I ask, created you? A man! Only
to be hunted and chased around the countryside
by men, even though you, too, were once one of them.


From werewolves to witches, I’ve seen the appalling way
mankind has treated those of us who just happen
to be a little, um, different. Some of us,
like the vampires, have special needs, sure; and a few
of us, like the homicidal killers (a la
Freddy K. and the Phantom of the Opera),
indulge, perhaps, a little too much in our arts,
but I say, the time for monster oppression has
passed. The time for monster equality is now!


 

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About Robert Lee Brewer

Senior Content Editor, Writer's Digest Community.

70 Responses to November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 4

  1. Lynne says:

    Treatise from a Tree

    first I declare that i the tree
    represent many as i have been on
    this earth long enough to ingest
    much wisdom along with water
    nutrients and sunshine

    that said, who do you think you are
    you who inhabit this planet
    you think you hold the deed and
    have the right to do as you are
    wont to do but i tell you and please
    listen carefully you have no ownership
    rights you are here only at the behest
    of the forever of this planet

    as a tenant you have privileges
    which you seem to understand
    because you take every indulgence
    allowed by your unwritten lease
    what you remarkably lack is the
    wisdom to realize that you have
    grave responsibilities along with
    your rights and whether or not
    you grasp this it is a deal breaker
    your lease will become null and void

    you are close to the end of the
    days of grace you have been given
    although if it were up to me your
    contract would have expired long
    ago but i am not the big boss
    i cannot enforce but must guide
    you towards change lest all be lost

    in your vernacular shape up or ship out

  2. Kathy Kehrli says:

    IV. Let’s Just See About That

    What’s that?
    “You’re here to comfort and support him.”
    Well, thank you very much
    For illuminating that fact.
    Excuse me?
    “You’re not her to analyze or treat him.”
    Not according to this pamphlet
    Where the hospital redacts,
    “A patient and/or their FAMILY
    Has the right … to make decisions
    Involving his or her health care.
    All patients have the right to full
    Info in layman’s terms
    Of diagnosis, treatment and prognosis.”
    There!
    Don’t make me pull out my Rights & Responsibilities
    Wherein you’ll find it noted
    Quite clearly to the contrary.
    Don’t you dare!

  3. Up Front!

    Drummers, Djs, Beat Boxers unite!
    Second class citizens, we pound, spin and beat box
    in the shadow of the rappers
    twice the work without the glory of the spotlight
    to highlight the sweat on our brow.
    We produce the back beats with our vocal chords
    and fingers from the back row
    while the front row musicians
    bask in our glory up front.

    Tonight, lets unite! We’ll charge the stage.
    Tonight we will spin records
    slap drum skins and beat box with our throats
    up front!

  4. Amanda says:

    In my heart
    At the stake
    I am burning
    Free your mind
    Search your soul
    Look at me
    And see
    I am not this she-devil
    That I am portrayed to be

    I live my life
    As I see fit
    At times, I’m scared
    But who isn’t?
    I will not be afraid
    To stand up
    To defend
    What I feel is right
    Even if the cost is my life

  5. Taylor Graham says:

    A GROUND-POUNDER VENTS

    “Who in his right mind would go four-wheeling
    at the edge of Desolation before the first big storm?
    And not tell anybody where he was going?
    Provisions? not much more than a six-pack
    and a bag of chips. Survival gear? not hardly.
    What are we here for, anyway – to rescue idiots?

    “How about those rafters on the river at spring spate?
    Or the guy in sandals who climbed the summit
    for ‘a vision’ and couldn’t find his way back
    in the dark? Shoot, it was full moon that night.
    I could go on and on. Some of these folks just aren’t
    worth finding. Yeah, don’t remind me –

    “that little kid lost in a rainstorm, found
    just in time. Kind of mission that makes you feel worthwhile – getting paged at midnight, driving
    till dawn, then slipping on canyon rocks,
    following his trail. Have to admit, that
    was a good one. But I wasn’t on that search.”

  6. she says:

    Good Luck by she 11.12.08

    AmericaWasTerrorizedAndCriticized/AndClearedThe
    CitizensWhoLeaptOutWindowsWithoutFear/With
    KnowledgeThatAmericaWouldDefendTheirStolenYears/And
    ProtectItsChildrenOnAmerica’sOwnGroundZero

    Yet

    FightingOurNeighborsHasBecomeCommonPlace/And
    DefendingOurCountryHasDividedOur[human]Race/And
    ProtectingOurBordersHasSlappedInOurFaces/By
    AllowingIllegalAliensToInvadeOurGrowinglyUnconstitutionalSpace

    So to

    ThePeopleWhoWantedAQuickFixForOurCountry/To
    RegainTheSafetyThatDefinedUsAsFree/You
    ElectedTheActorWhoNowLooksAfraid/And
    IgnoredMilitaryExperienceOverBlackskinAnd"Change"

    [author's note: this is in response to all the people I've heard talking about choosing Obama simply because he is African American and America needs to stop being racist. I am NOT racist, because I DID NOT vote for Obama. I simply thought someone with actual experience (especially in the military -- where Obama has NONE) was a better choice for our country. I'm not against people who voted for Obama because they believed in his ideas.]

  7. Oh Glory Day

    Brothers of all hues and shades
    forgive your anger
    Sisters of all creeds and nations
    forget your angst
    for just one glory day
    remember what we fought for
    Let this day burn into your memories
    For together we stood
    and lifted hope and grace to the sky
    Now the hard work begins
    and we must do it hand in hand

  8. Monica Martin says:

    Our moving in is for us,
    not any of you. There’s
    no promise to marry.
    You knew this would
    happen someday – I am
    twenty-five after all.
    I know not how your
    relationship with him
    will change, at all.
    It’s not my problem.
    We are happy with
    these developments-
    let us be.

  9. PSC in CT says:

    OK, still catching up (slowly!) Here’s my PAD – DAY 4.

    Forgive and Forget

    Why do you embrace anger (that toddler of terrible tantrums)?
    For what purpose do you pamper pain (that peevish whining child)?
    For what reason do you nourish hurts so ancient and carelessly made?

    Words, wielded as weapons, can cut to the bone and
    Wounds, untreated, fester and putrefy – becoming fetid

    Harboring hurt hinders healing and
    Acidic anger ultimately devours its own vessel

    Old wounds pull and ache
    With the churning tide
    The shifts in weather
    The changing seasons

    Forgiveness is ointment, balm, salve, honey
    Forget is soothing, healing, comfort

    Grudges are weighty and
    Hearts become heavy
    From bearing their burdens too long

    When snow sits silent on the mountain
    And the river freezes still and hard
    Forget inhabits the mind
    And remember is only a place in the heart

    When fire burns low in your grate
    And only cinders remain –
    Which warm will you know?
    Embers of forgiveness or
    Ashes of remorse and regret?

  10. Carol says:

    SOAP BOX

    Why don’t they just
    follow the rhythm of light
    rise later, rest sooner,
    conserve (their) energy,
    instead of fuelling artificial light
    that burns our wings,
    heats the air,
    makes the icecaps’ candle-drip,
    accelerating the shortening of their wicks,
    as they burn,
    burn,
    burn….

  11. Ronda Eller says:

    iv. unplotted destiny

    how can you
    not love
    ethereal vision?

    fascinating creatures wait
    to visit and chatter,
    lift you
    out of yourself.

    come

    and join
    the boundless arena!

    let your feathers feel
    freedom’s aerial kiss,
    unshackle your boney being
    and explore
    beyond

    that horizontal pulsing;
    lend impulse to universal,
    unplotted destiny.
    sleep my child,

    sleep!

    ~ Ronda Eller 4nov2008

  12. SaraV says:

    Terri-yes, that’s too much.

    Honk if you love Geese

    Okay, so maybe just maybe
    We honk a little loudly
    and maybe just maybe
    We honk loudly, early
    But like a little baby’s cry
    We have a limited vocab, so why
    You insist on saying it’s a racket
    Can you sit on an egg and crack it?
    Honking is what we do best
    Heck, it’s all that we do,
    Besides paddle in ponds
    Twinkly and blue
    And flap our magnificent wings about
    So if you are walking by, or out
    Try to see that honking is not so bad
    We honk if we’re happy, hungry, sad
    We honk hello, and please don’t go
    We’re really a loveable duo
    So please accept us as we are–
    But don’t compare us to a car

  13. Terri French says:

    (I hope people realize my poems regarding victim/abuser are tongue in cheek. I am trying to get inside in brains of both parties and this is just what is coming out!

    Victims Rights!?
    I am tired of your sniveling and grandstanding–
    Whine, Whine, Whine. . .
    “He broke my arm. He blackened my eye.”
    How ’bout “She pushed my damn button.
    She tap-danced one too many times on
    my last friggin’ nerve.”
    The weaker sex my ass.
    Y’all are in cahoots–
    out to destroy God’s first creation.
    Without Adam’s rib there would have
    never been any women.
    You owe us everything,
    but all we ask for is a little peace and quiet–
    a hot meal. . .
    some lovin’ in between the sheets. . .
    Is that too much to ask?

  14. Edward Henry Potthast, American (1857-1927)
    Rocks and Sea, c. 1923

    You Call Yourself a Critic?

    Lady, what is the meaning of this scribble in your notebook?

    Ugh–the colors disgust me.
    Mustardy yellows and greens,
    the rocks appear covered with
    dirty snow.
    The sea is a beautiful mix of
    blues, lavenders, and pinks.
    The paint seems too thick and
    heavy-handed.

    What do you know of me?
    Of art?
    Perhaps I felt heavy that day.
    Maybe my dog died.
    Or my wife.
    Or I was perhaps in a foul mood,
    it being time to pay the rent,
    and paintings don’t bring a
    monthly salary.

    How many paintings have you made?
    Tried to capture the sea and sky and emotion?
    How many masterpieces have you studied
    or attempted to capture on your own canvas?
    Maybe you don’t know what you’re
    talking about.
    If you do, if I failed to connect,
    maybe I’ll be forgotten after all.

  15. PSC in CT says:

    Uh oh! In my rush to play catch up, I am still struggling with this one, so . . . I will come back here (soon, I hope!) with my Soap Box poem. But for now, it’s on to day 5!

  16. Kate Berne Miller says:

    Cyborg Lives

    Though I’m
    all for the natural:
    the animal warmth
    of bodies, sinew and bone
    and skin on skin, I don’t object
    to an artificial enhancement now
    and then, at least the titanium in my hips
    doesn’t ache like the slow burn in my ankles,
    knees, shoulders that blossoms in the season of cold
    rains and morning mists. My mother’s a veritable junkyard
    of metal scraps, the right hip replaced five years ago, two
    stents hover close to her heart, now she’s sporting a pin
    in her left elbow. I remember the woman on jury duty,
    declaring each day as she set off the metal detector,
    “two hips and a knee.” What I wonder in the
    depths of the night, when dust to dust
    seems near, is will we still be
    recyclable?

    Kate Berne Miller

  17. lynn rose says:

    Feelings
    Feelings of loniless pass through my heart.
    I am always the last when I should of be first.
    To me that is the worst.
    You never see the whole thing, just you, being.
    I want more, you want less. I am not sure what is the best.
    Feelings of loniless flood my heart.Should I let you go,
    and have a new start.

  18. Euphrates says:

    This fits better here:

    Stare
    11/06/08

    “Mommy, why are those two ladies holding hands?”
    Oh, THIS should be fun.
    What are you gonna say, Mommy?
    That we’re freaks of nature?
    An abomination in God’s sight, sinning out in the open, right in front of (gasp!) little children?
    Or that we’re deceived and out to destroy your petty family’s values?
    Or maybe we’re part of the “Homosexual Agenda” to bring down the nuclear family and “One Nation under God” while we’re at it?
    (Like either of those need any help on that score from US)
    How about this, Mommy?
    How about maybe we LOVE each other?
    Maybe God saw that I needed another miracle in my life, and gave me that miracle in her?
    How about, we understand and complete each other? In ways our – yes our – boyfriend can’t.
    Because as wonderful and loving and sexy and gentle and sexy and talented (and did I mention sexy?) as he is, he doesn’t have to bleed to be moody.
    And he doesn’t have his moods dismissed because he’s bleeding.
    And he’ll never know the bloating and the hemorrhoids and the nausea and the alien kicking you in the cervix to get back at you for having sex…
    And he’ll never know the pain of subsequently losing that child nurtured by your body,
    However much he tries to understand.
    But we do. We both do.
    And bless his heart, this is a grocery store!
    And he’s a boy!
    Trust me, Mommy, you’d rather be fielding this one than “Why is that man holding both those ladies hands?”
    Because I love them both, and I’m not afraid to show it, no matter how uncomfortable it makes you.
    How about this one, Mommy?
    How about the fact that she can do things with ten fingers and a tongue that can make my head explode?
    Yeah, they’re gonna need an exorcist to get rid of all the ectoplasmic brain-spackle when WE move out.
    And how are you going to explain that we’ve found something so wonderful, so amazing, so special together that this “We”, this threesome, is greater than the sum of its parts? Can we say trinity anyone?
    And maybe, just maybe, I love her, and want to hold her hand to show her how MUCH I love her, and I didn’t even notice you noticing?
    So what are you gonna say, Mommy?
    And as I lock gazes, she averts her eyes,
    Tugging on her child’s hand, pulling her towards the parking lot…
    “It’s not polite to stare, honey.”

  19. Don Swearingen says:

    "Expect a cool and blustery day today,"
    The weatherman has told me,
    "You can’t go out in this to play"
    Because you’ll freeze you see.
    I rail against the weather in my need
    To be doing things outside,
    Like raking all the leaves that seem to breed
    Like a rabbit with more than one bride.
    But the weatherman, bless his heart
    Tells me to stay inside and keep warm
    And not drive around the old golfing cart,
    Don’t go out there and look for harm
    To happen here or there, or anywhere
    And not get eaten by a bear.

    Okay, it’s bad, I know.

  20. Juanita Snyder says:

    spotted owl soapbox
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    oh shy little raptor of the pacific northwest,
    you’ve brought a nation to it’s knees with
    your left-wing right-to-exist ideas
    at the heart of the matter.
    ethics and morality aside,
    the mere mention of your name has incited rallies,
    lawsuits, and internal governmental civil war roulette,
    moreover, caused people to tie themselves to trees.
    communities wave yellow ribbons as symbols of their pain
    birth conga-lines of semi-trucks to the state capitol in protest,
    write poetry, sing songs, and burn effigies in your honor,
    while around the rest of the country
    extremism on both sides continue to play out –
    debates pitting brother against brother,
    industry against environmental,
    common man against gov’t officials.
    can reforestation truly replace
    diverse multi-layered canopy systems
    which have taken a millennia to evolve?
    should we trade you in for paper plates & doghouses?

    fast forward,
    the owl got protection,
    200 year old growth locked in,
    clear-cutting abandoned,
    logging curtailed, but
    still your numbers continue to decline.
    (yeah, how IS that workin’ for ya?)
    30 years is a long time to hold a grudge, my friend.
    now that old-growth protection is passe,
    they swear the real threat is parasite invaders,
    not to mention that new barrio gang
    from the east side, the barred owl.
    should we rid one endangered species to protect another?
    is the new mantra.

    spotted owl euphony,
    long considered a gauge of ecosystem health
    line your new nests with salmon, snowy plover,
    and the greenhouse effect.

    afterall, green has become the new black.

  21. Judy Roney says:

    I Hear/I Say

    How long ago did he die? Shouldn’t
    you be over this by now? Don’t cry

    he wouldn’t want you to suffer
    you have to get over this

    you talk about him too much,
    you drive everyone from you

    the only one to help you through
    this is God, turn to him

    smile, don’t act so sad all the time,
    you have to be strong for your family

    let’s get together when you are feeling
    better, give me a call

    I didn’t want to bring him up
    I didn’t want to make you sad

    My truth is I have to cry and scream
    be sad and talk as much as I need to

    when I have a choice, I will make the one to live
    more fully, when I don’t, I will grieve in my way

    be around those who will allow me to talk about
    him when I need to, who will say his name

    don’t allow words or lack of words to anger me
    know that people are doing the best they can

    This is the hardest work I will do and I have to
    take care of myself, eat right, exercise, get a check-up

    go to a therapist. accept any act of kindness that
    comes my way with grace and thankfulness.

    I won’t let anyone make me feel I’m not doing my
    best, I have my own yard stick, I make the rules

    stop the mind racing with a word..Stop!, grasp and
    hold on to those moments that don’t include his death

    those moments have grown to days and for now I will
    honor him and this process so I can become whole again.

  22. Rodney C. Walmer says:

     Follow Your Heart

    Hey, read a poem today
    it’s good for the heart
    it might easily take your mind away
    so, why not start
    just read a new poem today

    Oh, some are sad,
    some are joyous
    some are just bad
    while others annoy us
    but, you’ll never know
    not until you’ve had
    that warm and fuzzy glow

    Certainly shorter then a book
    you can read one during a break
    while you clean, or while you cook
    just what you need
    a nice poem to cure that heartache

    Price is not an issue
    since many can be found for free
    just a single tissue
    and a poetry reader you will be

    So, when you make that choice
    or stop and ask yourself what to read
    listen to that little voice
    then just proceed
    to the nearest poets site
    Poetic Asides for me
    do what your heart says is right
    then read every poem you see. . .
    ©Rodney C. Walmer 11/5/08 Campaign for poetry prompt

  23. Iris Deurmyer says:

    Oh mankind where do you get off treating me with such contempt?
    You abuse, misuse, mismanage, and waste me
    Your dependence on me is not noted
    And you do not plan for my future
    What are your intentions on my behalf
    Do you not discern how precious I am?

  24. A.C. Leming says:

    S.E.T.I.

    Carl Sagon had it right
    with his “billions and billions”
    and the PBS series I never
    actually watched explaining
    our history and time.

    How can we be the only
    intellegent life in the universe?
    If you can call us that with
    all our wars and senseless
    death and pigheaded

    stupidity. We have our
    space in the universe, our
    tiny blue ball we slowly
    poison with hatred and
    chemical spills.

    If we foul our own nest
    what life out there will
    trust us? If we ever climb
    out of this gravity well,
    burning fuel to find

    the next star in the quest
    to grab the next bit of real
    estate for our next life, the
    next world, the next wide
    open space ripe for plunder.

  25. Kateri Woody says:

    You can only see what is in front of your face,
    a glaring sign, neon lights blaring through
    the thick malaise of ignorance, unable to interpret -
    to glean information from the stimulation that
    surrounds you and envelops you, forcing your blind
    eye to see nothing but yourself.

    Oh, you’re so petty to think that no one else
    actually exists in a distinct corporeal form, at least
    not enough to impugn on your precious space;
    I am nothing to you until I stomp on your toes
    and even then I am but a nuisance, a fly
    that buzzes in your ear – but what you don’t know
    is that I will lay my eggs in your ear
    and will look on delightedly to see my larvae
    eat through your disused gray matter.

    How people can walk through life so oblivious
    to the fact that their head is so far
    up their own ass that they can see what they had
    for Christmas dinner in ’79, is so far
    beyond me that I just have to sit back and watch
    the chaos that ensues when I throw a little
    kink into their methodically planned monotony,
    and gain some glee from your stupidity.

  26. Bruce Niedt says:

    I had a hard time coming up with a "soapbox" poem because I felt I’d just written one of a sort with the John Lennon monologue I did the other day. But I finally came up with something else to fit my theme:

    Banging on the Drums

    Listen,
    I like music as much as the next guy,
    maybe more, but you’ve got to turn it down.

    You, Mr. Urban Cool,
    in that low rider idling behind me at the light:
    your subwoofer is rattling my dashboard.
    Just because it’s bottom-heavy
    doesn’t make it any less hazardous,
    that visceral assault of bass and drums
    is attacking your ears too.

    And College Girl,
    next to me on the train:
    if I can hear almost every note
    of that rock song bleeding through
    the ear buds of your iPod,
    I can only imagine the decibels
    hammering your ear canals.

    Take it from me,
    who sat through one too many
    booming rock concerts, and had my share
    of personal music blasting from a Walkman.
    I have a permanent soundtrack now,
    a high-pitched ringing I can’t turn off.

    Even musicians aren’t immune –
    maybe poor old Beethoven
    had too many symphonies behind him –
    he couldn’t even hear his Ninth.
    And Pete Townshend of the Who –
    too many years in front of the stacks.

    So ease it back –
    stop all the banging on your drums,
    and the other parts of your ear.
    If you want to be old enough to complain
    about your own kids’ music,
    you have to be able to hear it first.

  27. kate says:

    Not really from the prompt, computer was down at work today, wrote this at lunchtime and hoped it would kind of fit!

    My Style

    Such fine hair still
    and cradle-cap
    on a six year old.
    I brush her hair back
    try to give the illusion
    of volume.
    She takes the brush from me,
    "I’ll style it,"
    straight and flat
    across her forehead
    and down the sides
    brushed until silken gold
    two hair clips front
    and side
    a blonde version
    of the asian girls
    in her class.
    She knows who she is
    and how she wants to look,
    beautiful.

  28. Rachel- thanks for the comment.
    I really like yours, too.

    Laurie K.

  29. Jolanta Laurinaitis says:

    Ok I’m not sure what the elipses are, but I’m using the ) sign to show my indenting :)

    The Post

    It is no longer enough
    To talk
    It is no longer enough
    To moan
    It is no longer enough
    To wait
    It is no longer enough
    To be blind

    No longer will I ferry her pieces back to her maker

    The time has come
    To breathe
    The time has come
    To move
    The time has come
    To try
    The time has come
    To make the change

    No longer will I hover over and watch her slow death

    We must unite
    To save her
    We must unite
    To live with her
    We must unite
    To be at peace with her
    We must unite
    To restore her beauty

    No longer will I be the devil’s
    )))))))))))))))))))))))))))darning needle, taking her away

    No more emissions
    No more dumping
    No more sawing
    No more killing

    Together
    We can reverse
    The damage
    Together
    We can have
    A clean earth
    Together
    We can love
    Our mother
    Together
    We can save
    Her spirit

    ))))))))))))))Adderbolt shakes her wings
    ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))And steps down from her post.

  30. Connie says:

    Thanks a lot, Rachel, I liked yours too. So many great ones here today. And Robert I enjoyed your intro too.

  31. Shann Palmer says:

    Change

    Call it recession,
    depression, regression,
    a malaise wraps
    around her heart,

    squeezing ambition
    into flat refusals,
    until she sits silent
    in vicarious celebration.

    The earth moves,
    she sighs, changes channels,
    hoping for nothing more
    than to be where she is

    without hope of reinvention,
    she waxes unrepentant.

  32. Victoria Hendricks says:

    Open Up

    Fenced in, boxed up. packaged,
    enclosed, encased, guarded,
    insular, encapsulated, closed.
    Time to crack caution’s shell,
    Blow tired conceptions all to hell..
    Throw windows wide. Feel wind.
    Open up. Let fear out. Let hope in.
    Begin. Begin. Begin. Begin. Begin.

  33. VS Bryant says:

    Spread the Love

    I stand before you with only three words to say,
    Spread the Love
    Love was here since the dawn of time and she will still be standing long after everyone is gone
    Stop hating love, stop judging love, why do you keep trying her so wrong
    She has given her all to you each and every day
    She has moved mountains, she has shook the earth, she has never left your side
    Vote for Love

  34. Sheryl Kay Oder says:

    Originally I said my theme was my scattershot life. It seems that a better theme of my poems so far is shifting focus and attention. Therefore today’s poem about an election day SNAFU is a soap box lecture to Cook County to pay attenion to me.

    Robert, I loved your introduction today. How it made me laugh!

    Pay Attention, Cook County

    Today my main attention
    was on voting. Simple, I thought.
    Bring in my own marked-up ballot,
    touch the computer screen
    and voila: it’s over.

    Except:
    when the election judge put
    the paper in the voting machine.
    She did not pay close attention
    so my vote was originally voided.

    Hey, computer.
    Just because the paper
    did not click into place
    you did not pay attention
    to my vote. Why?

    So I voted again
    and this time it worked.
    Now that I have your attention–
    our son has moved to Tennessee.
    we keep trying to tell you.

  35. jared david says:

    In Defense of Subsequent Emotions

    On behalf of the accused,
    I issue a statement stating,
    Their innocence of crimes
    To humanity, et cetera,
    And offer the following
    Relevant emotions present,
    As evidence opposing the claim.
    Please all me to demonstrate.

    As pertaining to: harm, caused
    To the party bringing suit,
    (That’s you), in the matter of
    Malicious infliction of emotion,
    With the intent to render, for
    Reasons unknown, the afflicted
    Persons, incapacitated with
    Mental strife, and thereby
    Rob them of their life.

    Present today, to face their
    Charges, and defend, with
    All means and ends, their
    Right to proceed with their
    Duties, as listed previously,
    But in brief, to provide an
    Outlet, a relief, to the injured
    Persons present, of their
    quote, “unusual cruelty,”
    By the one truly guilty.

    Yes, only one is to blame
    For all wrongs done, and
    Now, as promised, the defense—
    May I present, the accused.
    Please, allow me to resume.
    Your questions will be
    Addressed very soon.

    This innocent soul, is
    Quite Distressed. And like
    The rest, Nervous, and under
    An awful lot of Pressure,
    To act contrary to their
    Nature, creating Anxiety
    And Panic, amongst the
    wrongfully accused.

    And This poor soul Worries,
    that the hurry you are in,
    to resolve this case, affects
    your judgment, and in
    Place of the judicial
    Process, an error, influenced
    By your need to find justice.
    Please, stay in your seat.

    Justice will be provided,
    Via exhibit ‘A’ which,
    I believe, reveals the truth.
    Please unwrap your gift.
    May I finally, without
    Further ado, present,
    To you the offended,
    The Offender. Yes, in
    The mirror. Surprised?
    Confused? Allow me
    To make things clearer.

    No, this is not a joke,
    I implore you, take a
    Second look, there is
    More to see in the depths
    Of the mirror…find it yet?
    The culprit is Fear, hiding
    Within you, absconding
    From view, emerging only
    Under the guise of the
    Accused; the lies end here.

    Now I ask a favor of you,
    Take your time when you
    Decide—the fate of these
    Poor Symptoms, already
    The Victims of mistaken
    Identity, hangs, or not,
    On your decision today,
    but they are not Afraid,
    for they can only be
    Themselves, so think
    About that for a while,
    Before you put your
    Emotions on trial.
    The defense rests.

  36. Nancy Posey says:

    Composite

    I am more than my DNA,
    my O positive blood, and
    my XX chromosomes. I am
    Sputnik, one small step, one
    giant leap, and the Challenger.
    I’m Hound Dog, Pearly Shells,
    In-a-Gadda-Da-vida, and
    Hard Day’s Night. I was
    vaccinated against polio
    and smallpox, survived measles,
    mumps, and chicken pox; I am
    heir to JFK, Wallace, Watergate,
    and Patty Hearst. After cutting
    my teeth on Alice and Jerry,
    I was nurtured by E. B. White,
    L. Frank Baum, Louisa Mae
    Alcott, and Carolyn Keene
    before moving on to Flannery,
    Miss Eudora, and the elusive
    Nelle Harper Lee. And it goes
    without saying that while man
    shall not live by bread alone,
    I’ve had my fair share of
    hushpuppies, hot buttered
    biscuits and cornbread, washed
    down by cold buttermilk.

    Who might I be had I been
    fed on tea and crumpets or
    lox and bagels, Mitch Miller,
    Lawrence Welk, or Bach,
    believing Neil Armstrong
    had gone no farther than
    Arizona? If I had filled
    my brains with Zane Grey,
    Good Housekeeping, or
    Danielle Steel? I might
    not be this particular me.

    Nancy Posey

  37. Earl Parsons says:

    Here’s day 4 for LL&L:

    If Not For Me

    Many, many years ago
    Your ancestors fell to their knees
    To ask Me for guidance
    And protection
    And I gave it to them

    They listened
    And followed My instructions

    They grew
    They multiplied
    They prospered
    They became the envy of the world

    People from all the earth
    Flocked to your shores
    In search of freedom
    And a chance to live
    The American Dream

    And then something happened
    You became complacent
    You became selfish
    You became self-righteous
    And you forgot about Me

    But I never forgot about you
    And I never stopped loving you

    If not for Me
    You would be nothing
    Without Me
    You will become nothing

    I’m right here
    If you want to talk

  38. Earl Parsons says:

    Here’s the day 4 for SS:

    I Be Brainiac

    So you think you’ve seen and done it all
    I’ll be the judge of that
    Actually, I am the judge of that
    Since I have access to everything
    You’ve ever said, seen or done
    Hidden in the cobwebs of your brain
    Disguised as wrinkles of grey matter
    Your past is embedded
    For me to do with what I may
    For I am your brainiac
    Your window to the past
    Reviver of unexpected thoughts
    Unlocked whenever I wish
    Thrown out for you to ponder
    Sometimes whole scenes
    Sometimes just snapshots
    For you to decipher
    If you can
    This is so much fun
    Being in control as I am
    Are you ready for the ride
    Let’s have some fun
    Hang on
    I’ve got the control
    I be brainiac

  39. Mary K says:

    Soapbox

    We are on the cusp between the past and future
    I watch television as wins and losses are projected
    and I wonder how they know who will win a state
    when only one percent of the votes have been tallied.

    Everyone thinks her candidate has the answer
    It will be a late night, I am sure, as I watch somberly,
    hope people look at issues not only party,
    hope people know George Bush doesn’t speak for all.

    I believe many people are following a Pied Piper
    someone who speaks well and inspires hordes
    but I do hope that his words have substance,
    that he will accomplish what he states he will.

    This may not sound like much of a soapbox
    but it is all I can muster tonight as I stand looking
    back at the past and ahead toward future
    tired of the word ‘change,’ I fear tomorrow.

  40. patti williams says:

    This is not my post … I want time to create something worthy – this is just an interim link until I have time to think.

    Moosehead and Ringo, everything will work out in the end, I just know it … despite your cousin.

    Day #4: Soap Box?

    Survival
    Is hard for sure
    With the clouds
    All black around,
    The winds
    Making it hard
    To stand,
    The rain
    Making it hard
    To tell
    When I am
    Crying
    Or is it just the wetness from
    The storm again?

  41. A Call to Arms

    Brother, are all men
    created equal?

    No, you reply, my neighbor
    is but five feet tall,
    while I myself am a full
    foot taller. We are not
    of equal size.

    Then, brother, I ask,
    are you and your neighbor
    equal in ability?

    No, you reply, for he
    is a fine sailor, while I
    myself get sick at the mere
    sight of the sea.

    Then where, brother, I ask,
    might you be equal?

    I know not, you reply, for we are
    surely not equal in estate. My neighbor
    is far richer than I.

    Ah, brother, you and your neighbor
    are equal before the law.

    But, you reply, we are not equal,
    nor are we treated equally with
    our brothers in England.

    Yes, I reply, they have taxed us
    unjustly. Join with me,
    brothers, and throw off the yolk
    of the English and let us be free,

    let us all be free.

  42. To Be Loved

    "Why can’t you be more like your sister?"
    yelled her father, his anger rising within,
    as she cowered and bowed her head lower,
    too scared to speak of her sin.

    "You get involved with these filthy men
    who only want one thing,
    then you let them use you over and over again
    before you even get an engagement ring."

    The tears came down her soft cheeks
    as she cried her eyes out.
    She felt lower than a snake’s belly
    under the dirt- too scared to shout.

    From within, a voice way down
    was crying and dying to say,
    "I just want to be loved
    and not yelled at that way!"

    But she sat on the couch and took every word,
    as her father belittled her more,
    scorned and shamed from another lost love
    and feeling like nothing more than a whore.

    Laurie K.

  43. Peggy Goetz says:

    Thank you Robert for considering the earlier posting of the prompts. I have little time tonight on this election night or many nights actually. I like to kind of stew with a challenge for at least a few hours before getting it down. I am not very happy with these I have done on the wing. But I did try to get on my soapbox.

    Stop and Close the Door

    I say out there, stop and look at now,
    close that door, sit down
    enjoy what you have, the day
    the hour, dig into the depths
    of this moment, it’s layers of richness
    the breadth of its reach
    there is more in this instant of time
    than you can ever use up,
    ever see, hear, be. Don’t be so
    fast to move on, skimming
    the surface missing the deep
    purple sea of possibilities.
    Stop, don’t change until you
    know what you have. Lets
    keep things the same so we
    can all find the treasures we
    hold. I say, out there, don’t change.

    Nov. 4, 2008

  44. k weber says:

    which ghost

    talks to you
    tonight

    writes
    your words

    buries you
    under love

    and leaves
    of paper

    i remember
    when you woke up

    in the middle
    of nowhere: bruised

    broken glasses
    and bronchitis

    your year of ten
    thousand poems

    and now
    you are haunting

    New York City
    on loan from Ohio

    borrowed
    by Pennsylvania

    what didn’t you
    find here

    and what was in
    front of you

    all along

  45. satia says:

    Okay. I struggled with this one more than the others. Not sure. Maybe I’m burnt out from writing over 4500 words for nano. Maybe I’m thinking too much. In any event, soapbox made me think spoken word so I tried to write a rough draft for what would be a spoken word piece.

    Because You Asked For It

    I dare you. Go ahead.
    Ask me one more time
    How I’m doing.
    I’m fine. Fine I tell you.
    As fine as any other
    With nerves dead in her head
    Learning to listen to her feet
    Ignoring the lies that fly,
    That tilt her world and swirl,
    And falling becomes the norm,
    Bracing herself for the floor
    That flies upward, as she falls downward.
    That’s me. Falling forever on her face and ass
    And fine, I tell you.

    I’m fine. Thanks for asking.
    Can we talk about something
    Anything else? Or even nothing?
    Because nothing is wrong.
    I have the proof, the inconclusive tests,
    The viral explanation and I’m as fine
    As any other with a chronic condition
    Incurable and durable, unable to balance.
    See here? The MRI, times three,
    Thrice declares me fine.
    The CT scan, the xray, the blood.
    The drawings of me, interiorly,
    All fine. So fine, I could have children.
    Couldn’t pick one up for fear of dropping it
    But the doctors say there’s nothing wrong,
    The tests all say I’m fine, perfectly fine.

    This bruise? It’s just another sign
    Of how very fine I am. It could’ve been worse.
    I only fell once. Did I tell you about the time
    I poured hot water on my hand, making a cup of tea
    Or almost stabbed myself while slicing veggies?
    See? I’m fine. The tests they gave me say so.
    No need to worry and who needs a cure
    When the tests all say nothing’s wrong?

    And if nothing’s wrong then surely I’m fine.
    There can’t be any other answer so go ahead
    Ask me how I am. I’m fine. Fine I tell you.
    Thanks for asking. Can we talk about something,
    Anything else, besides how I’m doing?

  46. Jane penland hoover says:

    Robert,
    Your note about the prompt and all this about earlier made me smile – always a delight – your humor.

    Waiting

    draped
    against hospital walls,
    white brick expanse,
    wisteria blossoms hang,
    purple profusion –
    – suspended shadows –
    my man hemmed in
    beyond

  47. Terri Vega says:

    In the Kitchen

    Lose the salt and pepper folks
    really people give it up and
    let yourselves go wild with
    the exotic sensation of herbal
    flavor

    Feel the rich deep aroma
    that penetrates into your
    most perceptive of senses
    breath in the fresh pleasure of
    rosemary, marjoram and thyme

    Create a new masterpiece of
    culinary decadence that calls to
    lustful souls throughout the
    known world. Give in. Release
    yourself

    Shower meats and fruits
    vegetables and breads with
    something more than the black and white
    of yesterday. Breakout of the rut
    explore your hidden desire
    for good food.

  48. Sara McNulty says:

    RUST

    Okay all you naysayers of
    my name and what it
    stands for. I am proud
    to be Rust. You might think
    of me as corrosive, hard
    to remove, a sign of decay,
    but hey–I’m here to say–
    rust never sleeps; rust is
    the beginning of a potato;
    rust is the better part of
    crust; rust is the color
    of the season of Autumn.
    So the next time you get
    ready to disparage me,
    think of my high points
    and give me your vote.
    Remember, Rust rules!

  49. Iain D. Kemp says:

    Lots of excellent poems so far today. Robert – thanks for listening to our pleas. Nice one!

    Iain

  50. S.E.Ingraham says:

    Certification

    Having a piece of paper, signed by someone illustrious
    Is often quite a coup, an accomplishment of note
    The result of hard-fought, years of study and work
    And countless dollars spent, to round a person
    Make them whole, a credit to humanity and all
    The world revels in this success as if to take credit
    In some way for providing the life experience, the base
    Of which is the stage on which all of the rest begins

    However, there is a more sinister piece of paper
    Signed by individuals every bit as illustrious as those
    Cited in the example afore-mentioned, but this coup
    Is not an accomplishment of note, in fact, this paper
    This being certified, is to be avoided at all costs
    And I’m here to tell you that if you should ever find
    Yourself being involuntarily committed to any fine
    Mental institution on the say-so of two learned medics
    Unless you consider the deed a fair one, you must -
    You must, fight like hell, as calmly and as rationally as is
    Possible, for a person, facing a situation such as this
    A situation wherein, acting crazier is certainly the response
    Anticipated and probably the action that landed you
    In the situation in the first place, but, unless you want
    To carry that burdensome piece of paper with you
    FOREVER, and I do mean as in always, as in,
    to the end of your days,
    Like some loathsome passport, to the halls of Bedlam
    And worse; the first time it is presented to you as
    The only option, you have to advocate for yourself
    And advocate vociferously, in no uncertain terms
    That this is not alright with you, that you will not go quietly.

    Having some experience, both first hand and now, as an
    Advocate for others,I know, if you can, draw as much publicity
    To your cause as possible – doctors are terrified of bad
    Press and will be inclined to tread a little more carefully
    And progress a little more slowly, if you invite the media
    To record what is happening to you; again, you must gather
    Every scintilla of courage and reason you possess to do this
    Most difficult of tasks at a time when you are most likely
    Wanting to do anything but, however, if you just give up,
    The resulting incarceration will have you feeling even worse
    If you can imagine such a horror – can you? – yes I thought so

    So – fellow lunatics – join with me now and promise on your
    Very lives – no matter what – you will not go gentle into the
    Wards of the crazy people, you will not consent to being locked
    Up against your will for an indeterminate length of time,
    Unless – and this is a huge unless – unless you are convinced
    It is in your best interest – I am not
    totally against certification,
    Let me make myself clear – there is a time when some poor folks
    Do not know what is the best course of treatment for them and
    Then, then there are doctors and family or friends
    that consult with the patient
    And each other, and in good conscience, hopefully, the best
    Course is followed – this is never a great outcome,
    but sometimes,
    It is the only outcome available;
    I do accept that, when all others
    Have been investigated and exhausted, but never as an early
    Option and, in my opinion, it is used too early all too often
    Remember, being crazy doesn’t make you stupid or retarded,
    So stay smart, advocate for yourself and/or
    surround yourself with people you trust
    who will help you do this; don’t get stuck with
    That piece of paper, thinking it will
    be easy to expunge, it’s not.

  51. Iain D. Kemp says:

    …AND HERE’S THE SECOND…

    Dear Moosehead,

    Now you know what it is I have to
    say. It’s the same damn thing I’m always
    getting into you about. Family values are one
    thing but your family ain’t worth a damn.
    Its not that I don’t care its just that they make it
    too hard too care. So hear it is, here’s the
    pitch, here’s the play at the plate. You can
    keep the Jets and the Nicks, and most of all
    you can keep those goodfonuffin’ Mets.
    What I am talking about is come good times
    or bad, come hell or high water I will be a
    New York Yankees fan ’til the day I die.
    They are the only thing that matters
    (them and a damn good Chill-dog!)
    So I guess I’ll see ya around seven…

    Yours howlin’ loud’n’proud

    Ringo the Howler

  52. Iain D. Kemp says:

    Here’s the first one…

    Cats Poetry & Death #7

    I’ve read poems of love and broken hearts
    Poems of food; of cakes and tarts
    I’ve seen verse or prose on subjects that pain
    Like illness, abuse, time and again
    I’ve seen poems that send prayers up to God
    That honour and fear his iron rod
    Poems that sing of a national pride
    Brothers and sister side by side
    Poems I’ve heard speak of comic book heroics
    And the lessons learnt from famous poets
    But through poetic themes used by one and all
    I’ve seen a trend to which I call
    Attention please! Hark! Listen clearly
    To the trio that I love dearly
    When by meter or stanza you’re confused
    When you cannot find the Muse
    Do as I do and use each poetic breath
    To speak of Cats, Poetry and Death

    Iain

  53. I did the soapbox prompt, but I think that will have to come later in the series.

    Neal’s Overdrawn Account

    Neal, thin down to his hair, pays bills
    every day. No one knows where the money
    goes. Small denominations wrapped
    in rubber bands, sealed in an envelope
    and stamped. Every hello is a withdrawal.
    He walks each place he needs to be
    and notices eyes watching: he nods,
    holds up a hand, says hi. Ca-ching.
    People have said they can almost hear
    the register working, and wonder how
    Neal can possibly stay afloat financially.
    He practices yoga every night, hums
    to drown out the sound of coin flowing.
    This is his response, a struck pose.

  54. Rachel says:

    Wow Connie.. Hooray! Makes me want to cheer… best one yet.

  55. Rachel says:

    When Christians Cry

    Why can’t Christians be depressed?
    We have emotions like the rest.
    In fact, it’s God who made us thus,
    to think and feel and smile and fuss.

    And don’t blame God and say He’s bad
    because I’m broken, lost and sad.
    He made us perfect in those days.
    It’s SIN that butchers all His ways.

    Earthquakes, bombs, why war and death?
    This SIN disease that marks our breath.
    It makes me sick until I cry,
    I’m drowning God! I want to die!

    But don’t you scoff. I know He hears.
    The only One to wipe my tears.
    All of you just me despise.
    You ooze disdain with haughty eyes.

    And some of you take "pity" on
    this poor "Christian" who sighs so long.
    Forget the knowledge you must share.
    I need a hug, some simple care.

    Don’t tell me not to be depressed!
    Forgive my God, who knows what’s best.
    I may be cured, or I may die,
    but God sheds tears when Christians cry.

  56. [posting these drafts has been a lesson in letting go...]

    Riding the tides

    Look, this is more than a campaign
    slogan, more than underwear,
    more than the oil in your car.
    The resistance is deeper
    than anti-wrinkle cream,
    more certain than face-lifts.
    Life is not a stationary object
    and when you cling so tightly, afraid
    to let go then you can’t reach
    out and hold the flower, beautiful
    even as its pale petals fall.

  57. Callan says:

    Anti-Winter

    I am so sick of the cold, so tired
    of the five-month death sentence of winter,
    of how the seasons tease us and expire
    before it seems they’ve begun. The splinters
    of summer – sixty degrees in November -
    still sink into us, so I hereby protest
    the awful weather that starts in December
    and refuses to let up ’til April, at best.
    I want no more of these sad, shortened days,
    and once there’s a way to keep winter at bay,
    I will find another to make summer stay -
    no longer will that beauty slip away.

    But all ideals aside, though, I believe
    the only way to do this is to leave…

  58. Paul W.Hankins says:

    "Rite"

    Two hands held aloft
    summon other hands to clasp;
    mine are clammy
    and cold,
    and this is what I have
    to offer the mourner
    next to me:
    five fingers and a palm
    that has never been scarred.

    And so it is with sacrament,
    its demand for silence resulting,
    in the baited breath
    held back to a sob,
    rocking the shoulders
    that attempt to pull the person
    up and out of the parlor,
    that becomes a hiccup
    of the very soul –
    the body rebels against
    the catharsis chained,
    restrained in propriety
    everything that is sacrament
    eventually leaks
    tears.

  59. Steve LaVoie says:

    At first I wasn’t sure how I was going to do this prompt, but now this has actually turned out to be my favorite so far, but that could just be because it stars my favorite animal.

    Desmodus Rotundus

    Why can’t a vampire bat like me be an
    Astronaut, or a guitar player, or
    Maybe even a Senator?
    Is it because I might have rabies?
    Or maybe because my face has
    Been deemed scary by the media?
    Is my face why I can’t get any girls?
    No matter, even if some girl looked past
    The scary parts to see the sad and crying
    Eyes, what girl in her right mind
    Would stumble in a dark and wet cave,
    Or be able to hang upside down by her feet?
    Think about that next time you don’t
    Have a date on a Friday night.
    So how do you treat me?
    You always make me evil and monstrous!
    And even then, you portray me as a pushover,
    I don’t even get to be the big evil mastermind!
    How is that fair?
    I don’t recall drinking a movie producer’s blood.
    And besides even if I for some reason did,
    I am just trying to survive,
    Just like you.
    No wonder I need to hug myself every night.

  60. Connie says:

    A Missing Link of Communication

    Even when Paul the Apostle
    preached the gospel
    talking on and on into the night,
    a man named Eutychus
    fell asleep and out of a window
    and died.
    But Paul didn’t judge or criticize;
    instead, he raised Eutychus from the dead.
    I believe Paul would have been open
    to more exciting methods of communication.
    He utilized writing and singing and probably dancing,
    but there’s one form I believe he would have used
    if he had known about it.
    Dominoes
    Did I say dominoes?
    Yes, I said dominoes.
    Have you ever watched people watch dominoes topple?
    The excitement
    The anticipation
    The cheers befitting
    the message of the free gift
    of salvation in Christ Jesus.
    And as you watch you feel their relief and joy
    when the toppling goes smoothly
    and their story is told through
    color and movement and pictures
    in millions of pieces of plastic.
    Dominoes:
    Draws the crowds
    Unites and excites hearts
    Develops team work and camaraderie
    Teaches focus, patience and discipline.
    Preachers, teachers,and Sunday school workers,
    for an effective form of communication
    to express vital truths—
    Choose dominoes!

  61. Lori says:

    Where Were You

    Where were you when
    Your kid had a temp of 103
    Or was drinking so much he ran in to a tree.

    Where were you when
    The bystander pulled him out of the pool
    Cuz no one told him swimming alone wasn’t cool

    Where were you when
    he told her it would be all right
    And we treated her bruises in the ER that night.

    Now you’re here
    Blaming us for calling for them
    To be taken them away
    Well, too bad, parents, it’s a little too late.

  62. Vanessa O'Dwyer says:

    In Us You Trust

    I promise you’re incapable
    I promise you’re just stressed
    Now if you’ll just sign this dotted line
    And get yourself undressed.
    We’ll get you in a moment
    We’ll catch you unawares
    Don’t worry ’bout that girl over there
    Because she always sits and stares.
    You see, we’ve hopped her up on dope
    And tackled her great sin
    By numbing the effects of life on her
    And the condition that she’s in.
    Now just calm down,
    And don’t you worry
    This whole darn mess
    Will pass in a hurry.
    You won’t feel a thing I am sure.
    Dang unfortunate that there’s no cure.
    So just take this pill and wash it down
    To erase from your face that awful frown.
    Because I promise you’ll be better here
    And that there’s nothing lurking which you need fear.
    And we promise we’re protecting you
    From the things you hold so dear.

    Vanessa O’Dwyer

  63. AnnNoE says:

    Lanterne for Day 4 – at least I’m consistent is not "on prompt"

    Dust
    returns
    to dust, once
    more becomes the
    earth.

  64. RJay Slais says:

    Your comments cracked me up today Robert. Thanks for doing this PAD challenge, providing your inspiration, and the fun. I actually submitted (revised versions of) my first 3 days poems to a market today, a fast responding one. I am pleased with the creative jag flow, thanks again for providing this.
    I wrote today’s poem on day 2 but then after the prompt, wrote a new one for day 2, but it fits nicely into today’s prompt and my theme for my chap. I am enjoying reading the fine work here everyone! Write on!!
    ———————–

    Responsibility

    Frustrated, I bitch to myself
    knowing I will get no answers back,
    why the economy has slipped,

    all the good jobs heading south,
    how come the kids must bicker
    seemingly at the worst of times,

    when the damn war will end,
    too many good people dying
    for oil or who knows what,

    as I stare out the window
    at two pair of Yellow Finches
    on the feeder. One male seems to be

    in control, he never eats much,
    too busy working the stoops
    pushing the others out of the way.

    They will stay here at my place
    through the entire cold season,
    no need to migrate down.

    Their daily fight at my feeder
    for a bellyful of birdseed;
    another set of mouths to fill.

  65. Rachel Green says:

    Lament of the Haunted House

    I’ve trod the halls of threadbare carpets
    walked the stairs of splintered wood;
    tapped my way across the kitchen quarries
    nowhere here has brought me good.

    I can see some people walking (have they come to stay?)
    I can hear some people talking (I can guess what they will say)
    I can smell the fires burning (will the house be warm at last?)
    I can feel my stomach churning (will the open up the past?)

    So many years I’ve lived alone here
    without a soul to offer speech –
    just the folk who crowd the parlour
    ones where colour turns to bleach.

    I can see a man unpacking (why so many books?)
    I can touch the wire racking (who could ever drink the wine?)
    I can hear a lady crying (has she really lost her looks?)
    I can feel a child dying (She’s the image of the daughter mine)

    Perhaps the day has come in dust in twilight
    in time to open doors a long way back
    letting out the guilt of ages
    bringing in the hope I lack.

  66. Michelle H. says:

    Oops, 5th line, third stanza – that should be "are" green…
    typing too fast…

  67. Michelle H. says:

    “Song to Earth”
    (Sung to the tune “Jingle Bells”)

    Running through the streets
    With garbage bags in hand
    Picking up the trash
    Recycle all those cans
    Making streets so clean
    What fun it is to keep Earth clean
    Every day and night!

    Oh, keep earth clean, keep earth clean
    Keep her clean all year
    Oh, what fun it is to play
    In clean lakes and rivers
    Keep earth clean, keep earth clean
    Keep her clean all year
    Oh, what fun it is to save
    Earth for future kids

    Today we get to vote
    We let our voice be heard
    And soon we all can save
    Earth and all her glory
    The trees and grass our green
    We need to keep them clean
    We want our children to have
    A healthy living planet

    Oh, keep earth clean, keep earth clean
    Keep her clean all year
    Oh, what fun it is to swim
    In clear, clean waters blue
    Keep earth clean, keep earth clean
    Keep her clean all year
    Oh, what fun it is to breath
    Air that’s clean and clear

  68. Heather says:

    Lesson #4: Worry

    She’s spectacular,
    Better than any of us,
    (Except she’s freaked out)
    We should give her space
    She’s got it covered,
    She’s on the case

    You can talk until you’re blue
    In the face
    Explain yourself
    Over and again,
    You’ll have wasted
    Your breath
    (She’s not listening)
    In the end

    She’s spectacular,
    Better than any of us,
    (Except she’s in the middle of a panic attack)
    We should give her space
    Let her run
    Her mental race
    Against reason,
    The past,
    Things out of her control

    She’s got it covered
    (Except she’s falling apart)
    Everything’s cool
    She is working hard
    For us all
    We would be fools
    To enter her world
    Of endless,
    Gut-wrenching
    Worry

    Lesson #4: Why Worry?

  69. Robert, I’m new to posting on your site but have to say that I am laughing so hard at your post… much needed during a "pins & needles" kind of day. Thank you.

    My own soapbox to be posted soon…

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