2012 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 22

Happy Thanksgiving! I’m always so thankful for these challenges, and the community that’s formed around this blog. I hope everyone, whether you live in the States or abroad, has a moment to reflect on something for which they’re thankful not just today but every day.

Speaking of thankful, I’m thankful for today’s prompt from Brenda Bishop Blakely.

Here’s Brenda’s prompt: Write a paradise poem. What is your idea of paradise? Is it a person, place, or thing? Maybe it is an idea which changes like weather changes. Is it simple or complex? It can be what ever you want it to be. Create your own paradise! Perhaps it is even paradise lost.

Robert’s attempt at a Paradise Poem:


A pen, some paper, and a dirt trail,
your hand in mine without a map
or time to be “back,” just an afternoon
to explore and witness and whatever
else might come naturally to us.


Thank you, Brenda, for the wonderful prompt! Click here to learn more about Brenda.

For those who prefer sharing poems on the WD Forum, click here.


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98 thoughts on “2012 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 22

  1. Karen H. Phillips

    Day 22
    Prompt: Write a paradise poem.


    To eat as much 85%-cacao dark chocolate as I want
    and not gain an ounce?

    To bask on the beach all day without a smidge of sunscreen?

    To walk these hills and not pant or swear or have aching joints afterward?

    To spend hours together as a family, and not one argument break out?

    To hear that all the wars ended, all the famine disappeared, all the people
    had the medicine and treatment and healing they needed?

    To wake up in a perfect place, with perfect people, where no tears fall,
    no cries are heard, only laughter?

    Paradise won’t come to earth, but Jesus did,
    and Paradise is where He lives.
    I’m signed up.
    Are you?

  2. JRSimmang


    Perhaps the trouble is never having
    been in paradise.
    I would say a stately manor, filled with
    turkish delight,
    sounds rather nice.
    A faraway beach complete
    with cabana umbrellas in the drinks
    sounds like the perfect end to a perfect weekend.
    A snow-tipped mountain in the middle of mountains
    could do just the thing to calm my nerves.
    But, that is here.
    That is the world.
    Isn’t paradise an escape?
    If I sit alone in my manor with all my things
    am I still not sitting alone with too many rooms
    to even fill?
    If I sit with my toes touching the Atlantic
    do the toes on the riot line no longer exist?
    If I am on top of the mountain
    is my view of the rising ozone not clearer?
    Paradise does not exist here.
    Paradise cannot exist here.
    Pardise has found a way to constantly elude.
    It is a dream in between the eyelids of a restless night.
    It cannot be touched,
    it cannot be held.
    It is without ever being.

  3. foodpoet

    Paradise, when is paradise not
    A heaven,
    Right around the corner take
    A Rest with paradise spring wines
    Dine in lonely paradise Utah.
    In Alaska rest
    Sprawl and cast a line into
    Evening snow echoes.

  4. julie e.


    in my egocentric paradise
    (where “one size fits all” actually does fit me)
    streets are not to be paved in gold,
    silver being much more flattering to my skin tones.
    I am thin and fit yet I eat chocolate truffles
    I enjoy exercise and actually go running
    on purpose, not because the dog got out,
    my house is always drop-in ready, as in,
    “Who’s that at the door? The Queen?
    Why of course, come in for tea
    and scones I made fresh only this morning!”
    my family thanks me daily for
    shopping/cooking/cleaning/wisdom/love/encouragement/humor under pressure…
    Oh wait.
    I think I’ve wandered out of paradise
    downstairs into fantasy….

  5. Miss R.


    So accustomed to struggle as we are,
    Can our paradise be a place of peace?
    We strive for just that, to be sure,
    But when war and strive actually cease,
    Will we find joy in passionless harmony?
    How long will it be until we get bored?
    Will we enjoy a world of soft delights,
    Or long to end it and cut the cord?
    Is humanity made for paradise?
    I suppose we’ll have to wait and see
    As we pray for the transformation
    That prepares us for eternity.

  6. janmoram


    You are shroud in paper light
    shuffle the suns,
    kings first.

    Murmur summer prayers

    for a few cubes of ice,
    cool white sheets.

    You play with love,
    anoint gods
    buckle lovers
    to one another

    ankle to ankle,
    wrist to wrist

  7. Nancy Posey


    In four days, the kitchen will be clear
    of all reminders of the meal, left-
    overs eaten or tossed, turkey platter
    back on the topmost shelf.

    We’ll be free to saunter barefoot
    through the living room, even
    in the dark, unafraid of stumbling
    over Legos or tiny metal planes.

    No one will be beckoning us
    upstairs when we’re down or
    downstairs when we’re up. No one
    will be calling to us at all–

    Except by phone to ask if we found
    the missing shoe (No.) or Barbie’s
    Palomino (Yes. Under our bed)
    and when we ‘re heading that way.

    For now, though we never say it
    aloud, this is paradise: No reason
    not to sit right down in the floor
    for sticky kisses and Monopoly.

  8. madcapmaggie

    Nov 22:write a paradise poem


    The turkey has learned to dress itself,
    and jumps right into the oven.
    It figures out when to knock on the door
    and exits, all without shovin’.

    The dishes form an orderly line
    on the counter to the left of the sink,
    then soaped up and washed, they climb on out,
    dry out and stack quick as a wink.

    Guests, who arrive exactly on time,
    bring flowers or pie for dessert.
    They fight over who will help us clean up.
    No one is surly or curt.

    We all enjoy a walk round the block,
    remark on the beautiful weather.
    And if your holiday’s ever like this,
    well, knock me down with a feather.

    Margaret Fieland

  9. Sara McNulty

    Poetic Asides November Challenge – Day 22
    Write a paradise poem

    Eden Beach

    On pink pristine sands,
    nacreous under amber moon,
    ocean bedded down,
    water still in sleep,
    we recline on blanket
    of fleece, fragrant with scent
    of jasmine, joyous in solitude,
    ardor arousing flames
    that shoot and spark
    from flesh soaked
    in secretions
    of synchronized

  10. RJ Clarken

    Paradise Lost – A Reunion

    “In this fool’s paradise, he drank delight.” ~George Crabbe

    In paradise, we drink delight
    and toast ourselves, which is our right.
    Friends’ poetry, we each recite
    as it gets later in the night.

    A feast that’s fit for king and knight
    is what is served. We reunite.
    Strange boundless stories come to light
    as it gets later in the night.

    Another round. Both red and white
    are poured in paradise. We’re tight,
    but not enough to be contrite
    as it gets later in the night.

    “Those were the days,” I say, “Despite
    the mess we’ve made.” (Guess words can bite.)
    From there we all get less polite
    as it gets later in the night.