The April PAD (Poem-A-Day) Challenge is designed to help poets do one thing and one thing only: Write more poems! The process of revision may go on for weeks, months, and years later, but this challenge is all about getting that first draft. Please poem along with us–either in the comments below or silently at home.
For today’s prompt, write a comparison poem. The poem could compare one person with another, or it could compare one thing against itself. Or it could take a comparable direction.
Here’s my attempt at a comparison poem:
“twilight”
one heart break can’t be compared to the next
the same as phone calls are different than texts
one crushes the soul, another relieves
one dashes all hope, another believes
one heart break can happen on just one night
another, over years, fades like twilight
*****
Writing poetry is exciting, but the hard work of poeming is working through the revision process. The best way to work through this process is to workshop the poems with other poets, and that can be done with the Writer’s Digest 6-week course, Advanced Poetry Writing.
*****
Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer
*****
Quick note on commenting: Please always save a copy on your computer. There have been moments in the past in which comments have disappeared, and I don’t want anyone to lose their work. Heck, I’ve lost some of my work here in the past, and it’s not a great feeling. That said, commenting here is a lot of fun, especially in April. If you’re completely new to the site, you’ll be asked to register (don’t worry, it’s free), and your comments might not appear initially until I manually accept them. However, after that initial phase, your comments should appear without my help.
Want some more poeming fun? Check out these previous Poetic Asides posts:
Graphic Organizer
Circles intersect
Image concrete
Differences opposite
Contrasts clear
Similarities center
Space without words
Venn Diagram clarifies
What I already knew
Nothing compares
With you
Lorraine Caramanna
Why cannot you be
Like your little brother
Happy and smiling?
Diamante
Angel
Powerful Prophetic
Worshipping Blessing Delivering
Protector Warrior Possessor Manipulator
Cursing Insinuating Condemning
Ruthless Deceitful
Demon
SECOND THOUGHTS
In the meadow’s unrepentant green
dared grow such weeds for beggar’s
seasonings: mustard, radish, anise.
Three miniature blossoms the exact
shade between pink and sunset,
delicate as a girl’s bracelet charm.
Another pile of gravel by the road.
Fear versus Hope
One cripples, other tickles,
Your Life, and Dreams.
One hushes, the other pushes,
Your Voice, and You.
One bickers, while other flickers,
Your View, and Stance.
He Asked Them To Give
of their loaves and fishes—
the miracle was not in multiplication
but that people did.
SNOW IN THE SHADOWS
Snow in the shadows,
Jonquils in the sun;
Too cold for bare toes;
Snow in the shadows
Soon enough, though, everybody knows,
One day over, a new one begun.
Snow in the shadows,
Jonquils in the sun.
Germany
wanted “change”.
A man came along,
from out of the woodwork,
and promised it to them.
They got “change” alright,
freedoms taken away,
along with their dignity,
and even their lives-
a hell on earth.
America wants “change”.
HE comes along,
from out of nowhere really,
on the sidelines quietly watching,
another promise of “change” and other free stuff.
My parents taught me not to take candy from strangers,
to work hard for what you need or want, not expecting it to be given for free…
The comparison stops here.
I will not allow history to repeat itself.
Human
We aren’t possible:
skin and bones
sinew and tendon
a four chambered
miracle thumping
us to animation.
A million, a trillion
electrical anomalies
tells us the color
of the sky, a flower,
a tear sliding down
the palest small face.
It tells us of love.
We come apart
so easily,
with bombs and bullets
or a drink too many.
With words.
We can be unraveled
until we are nothing but
the parts of our sum.
Bones, skin, sinew, tendon
an empty four chambered pump.
Unseeing eyes that quickly
forgets our favorite color.
We are not possible.
And yet
we are.
Yellow Girl
They sit in neat rows,
each pair of light eyes
painted on by the deft
hand of a factory framed
in perfect halos of gold hair.
I am the other, without
a fabricated piece of me
to cherish because the me’s
on the shelf don’t look like me.
I was made of darker things,
made rare by living
close to the light.
a year ago
you picked up your guitar
fingered the frets
magic emanated
sweet, sad songs
and your sweet, sad
voice trembled
now, you pick up
glass, plastic shards,
odd metals and blades
and your sweet, sad
voice trembles
A famous actor said
“I am now old,
Though in my head
I am still a boy.”
I feel that,
at fifty three.
When people say
“You dont seem that old,”
I tell them
Its just my immaturity
that makes me seem
younger.
Funny
but true.
I know more now,
am,
I hope,
wiser,
less likely
to judge,
less
self-absorbed.
Yet
like a computer
become self-aware
I’m locked in
at about eighteen
or so.
Will that ever change?