2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 13

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:


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


Workshop Your Poetry!

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.


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Want some more poeming fun? Check out these previous Poetic Asides posts:

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199 thoughts on “2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 13

  1. LCaramanna

    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

  2. taylor graham


    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.

  3. tunesmiff


    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.

  4. bookworm0341

    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.

  5. Deri


    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.

  6. Catherine Lee

    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.

  7. drwasy

    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

  8. EbenAt

    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

    but true.

    I know more now,
    I hope,
    less likely
    to judge,

    like a computer
    become self-aware
    I’m locked in
    at about eighteen
    or so.

    Will that ever change?


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