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    2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 18

    Categories: Poetry Challenge 2013, Poetry Prompts, Robert Lee Brewer's Poetic Asides Blog, What's New.

    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, take the phrase “I Am (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: “I Am Superman,” “I Am Wonder Woman,” “I Am Out of Nickels,” “I Am Running Low on Patience,” and so on.

    Here’s my attempt:

    “I am the laundry basket”

    you left at the laundromat
    unattended, empty, and vulnerable
    to the late night thugs who tossed me around

    and ultimately broke me.


    Workshop Your Poetry!

    Writing poetry is exciting, but the revision process can be too, especially when you’re revising with a group of dedicated poets and an experienced mentor. As luck would have it, that can be accomplished with the Writer’s Digest online 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:

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    About Robert Lee Brewer

    Senior Content Editor, Writer's Digest Community.

    248 Responses to 2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 18

    1. cstewart says:

      I Am

      I am taking the time to write this poem,
      So that I can learn all about myself,
      And how to put that into writing.
      Though it may not sound like me,
      Or feel like me to you as you read,
      It is the essence of myself in letters.

    2. LCaramanna says:

      I Am Dancing With Daffodils

      Daffodils dressed in yellow finery
      gathering in my garden and
      dancing the East Coast Swing.
      The wind chimes’ whimsical tune swooning me,
      enthusiasm consuming me.
      Suddenly, I am dancing with daffodils.

      Lorraine Caramanna

    3. PKP says:

      I Am – the one waiting in the wings

      I am
      The one
      You never
      Since your promise
      In the sweet
      Whispers of
      Darkness that
      You surely would
      For me

    4. Nadienne says:

      “I Am Not Purple Hair; Nobody Is,”

      she said, pulling the denim of her jeans taut to decrease wrinkling. I don’t know how her long, long painted nails didn’t crack. Her hands didn’t look suited to anything practical like folding clothes at a laundromat. Why she lingered, folding in this public place, I wondered. Perhaps for company. Perhaps for the audience. Perhaps to escape screaming kids, a video-game-playing (not-so-) significant other. She laid her eyeliner on thick. My hands shook as I carefully pushed quarters through the dryer’s slot.

    5. Yolee says:

      i am Grateful

      my parents’ spirits dwell
      in the hearth of their bodies.
      i can run to and walk from
      their heart’s embrace.

      i wear their hold like
      a supernatural fragrance,
      and engage it to improve
      the posture of life.

    6. EbenAt says:

      I have no form
      no content
      no being
      without input

      Cobain roared
      ‘Here we are now,
      entertain us;’
      I’m ready.

      Fill me.
      Bring me

      I am
      a blank page
      for Rorschach.

    7. Linda Voit says:

      I am Fifty, and That’s Just Fine

      Seven years ago near Hyde Park
      Grandma in her early 90’s leans
      on my arm as Londoners
      outpace us and says wistfully
      Oh, to be in my seventies again!
      Seven words, and my aging
      paradigm shifts for good.

    8. I Am a Dreamer

      Watch your words, and watch your steps
      Hold that spite!
      Shove that nay out of sight.
      I thrive on you, your words and actions.
      I feast on promises, on tomorrow, on Hope.
      A strong Faith, can, a mountain move,
      A potent Will, will all barriers remove

    9. Glory says:

      I Am the Dream

      I am the dream, I am the one
      haunts every dark night hour
      until comes the dawn, the beams of the sun
      to drive out this dream -
      no never.

    10. vsbryant1 says:

      I am

      I am the keeper of all that is called home
      I am the master chef
      I am the doctor
      I am the cleaner
      I am the one who wipes the tears
      I am the keeper of all that is called home
      I am the mother
      I am the wife
      I am the friend
      I am the fighter
      I am the one who carries the heavy load
      I am the keeper of all that is called home
      …and I won’t have it any other way

    11. Margot Suydam says:

      I’m still here trotting downstairs
      to meet your breakfast of blood

      sausage and eggs well scrambled
      your newspaper is already folded

      back to reveal yesterday’s stormy
      sky, the debacle we watched spin

      until we escaped to fling savage
      on a nearby church swing to sail

      beyond what we could undertand
      no doubt, you’re sadder than I’m.

    12. I Am

      taller than I pictured
      and sudden as the spearmint
      growing wild at the edge
      of this careful garden.
      I am strolling up to the door
      of my next life,
      the third date with myself,
      I’ve charmed myself
      as best I can,
      smiled as I wove my story
      kept my baggage
      mismatched and colorful.
      I’ve tilted my head and studied
      my future over candlelit dinners
      trying to picture us together
      as I describe to myself
      the shape of dreams I’ve gathered
      herding them back each time they wander
      shutting them in the yard till now,
      the third date,
      the one where I go all the way.

    13. Jezzie says:

      I am never satisfied

      I am never satisfied, so it seems.
      A part-time job I wanted in my dreams.
      But now I’m out working full time again
      I seem to have a problem with my brain.

      At last a job I found, I felt inspired.
      I am much too youthful to be retired
      but seemingly too old to work full time,
      and have no time to write poems that rhyme.

      My muse has obviously gone away,
      and I was not so sharp at work today.
      I have no time left now for having fun,
      my energy seems to be on the run.

      My choice now is of boring retirement,
      or of having exhausting employment.
      Why can’t there be a happy medium,
      and why can’t I just go to work part-time?

    14. Marjory MT says:


      There is a “Welcome Home” feeling is this place hundreds of miles from home. A corner table illuminated by the lowering rays of sun. Fresh hot pita, savory humus served with chilled Chardonnay sipped as we anticipate the first bite of lamb. Gentle fragrances slip through the air, tantalizing the senses. Muted voices, soft music, the candles glow as the sun slips from view. Warmth and beauty surround us sparking the recall of other interment moments, times and places. Dinner arrives, hands reach out, the unforgettable flavor is savored with closed eyes. Then a shared smile and nod, “It is a wonderful as remembered.” The lamb, pilaf, salad and potatoes finished, sedated we order coffee to linger over and stay the evening’s ending.

      A soft “Birthday Greetings,” a
      festive sparkle sets
      atop plate of Greek delight

    15. Deri says:

      I Am Nothing

      but skin and bones,
      animated clay.
      I am the sum of
      my parts.
      The result of
      years fighting
      for my life.

      I am a woman
      in love and
      in hate with
      this broken world.
      I am a mother
      I am a struggle.

      I work,
      I learn,
      I teach.
      I have held
      new life in
      my hands.
      I have held hands
      as I watched
      life leave.
      I have weeped,
      and I have

      I have wished
      it better.
      I have wished
      it all away.
      I have come
      to no answers,
      other than
      I am nothing
      with you.

    16. omavi says:

      I am wind

      I am neither north or south nor
      Do I come from the east or west
      I move neither wave nor leave
      All I am is a force of nature never seen
      Felt from 360 degrees of completion
      But no one sees me coming and
      They think they hear me leave
      I am breathe and life
      But with or without me everything
      Still strives and lives
      I am just a dream that you thought
      You felt as you entered your dreams

    17. Amy says:

      I Am the Autumn

      I am the autumn
      blowing in with melancholy wind
      setting fire to the placid green

      I am the change
      easing the dense summer heat and
      shrouding old bones with piercing chill

      I am the hunger
      insatiable thirst for color’s richness
      leaving only desiccation in my wake

      I am the autumn
      whirling dervish of tenacity
      and transient by nature

    18. I Am

      But a speck
      on the surface of earth.
      I am created for a purpose;
      a mission.

      I discover that mission
      as I walk out each day,
      obedient to my Maker,
      I listen to His voice,
      read His instructions,
      and do His bidding.

      Important work for a speck.

    19. I Am the Kitchen Window

      She stood here, hands red from washing,
      like her eyes from crying secret tears.
      She stood here, looking beyond my panes
      into a world that fueled her desires and dreams.
      She stood here, until the day she didn’t -
      the day she walked through the pain into the sunlight.

    20. Lindy says:

      I am Okay

      and kicking
      and fighting my way
      to stay
      at the top of this hole
      in my soul
      swallowing whole
      what peace I have left.
      Every new day
      slips away
      as my grasp
      on vitality fades.

      I am okay.

      Curses in snow,
      I don’t want to know
      what you hold
      five minutes too old
      or too new.
      What to do?
      Out of the blue:
      skies calling,
      stars following,
      the caterwauling
      of spring’s journey home
      to my heart.

      It’s an art.

    21. catlover says:

      I am a mother
      not a father
      I am a sister
      not a brother
      I am an aunt
      not an uncle
      I am a niece
      not a nephew
      I am a granddaughter
      not a grandson
      I am a daughter
      not a son

      I am a woman!

    22. Tracy Davidson says:

      I Am Musically Challenged

      Tone-deaf, entrusted only
      with the triangle,
      I stand at the back,
      half-hidden by the curtain,
      waiting for the nod
      that never comes.

    23. Tracy Davidson says:

      I Am Free

      I am no longer
      a slave, a doormat for him
      to walk all over…
      I celebrate my freedom –
      my divorce papers are through

    24. vickiejohnstone says:

      I am

      I am
      As the day finds me
      Wandering through
      Beneath the sun’s rays
      Beyond the lines
      Of grey buildings

      I am
      In the spaces between
      Where things crawl
      The skin twitches
      Eyes open wide
      In the morning fresh

      I am
      As the birds fly high
      So the clouds chase
      Ever turning moments
      Find me
      Waiting here

      I am
      Where the ocean roars
      And the wind howls
      As night falls
      A curved moon rises
      So I go to sleep

    25. profal29 says:


      I am in lockdown
      1 suspect killed
      there is a massive
      search for the other
      schools closed
      business’ closed
      cities closed
      mass transit
      locked down

    26. mlcastejon says:

      I am my own voice

      Maybe a whisper
      breaking through the dark silence
      Poetry in bloom

    27. I am sure
      of one thing
      and when I am
      with you
      I can never remember
      what it was,
      if somehow you managed
      to take it
      and who I can possibly be
      without ever knowing
      what it was
      or if I ever really
      had it
      in the first place

    28. lyttleton says:


      She speaks in silkless rhythms, cold and true
      never a kind or good word spoke aloud
      But her eyelids open for me, and I
      Sit up and listen like a shy student

      In every book, on every shelf, she lives
      and breathes for the sudden denouement of
      heroes who fight alone, against the world
      because, she says, “No one ever wins life.”

      I nod, I know, because I can’t deny
      that loving is another way to lose
      and in her brief novella I’m just one
      more minor plot thread that she’ll unravel

      Yet, hear, in her presence, my heart beating
      ba dum, ba dum, ba dum, ba dum, ba dum

    29. Alpha1 says:

      I Am a Remnant

      tail end of a comet
      generation revolutionizin
      the way the world thought
      about itself
      turnin everything inside out
      upside down under
      the microscope examinin
      declarin all things
      needed to change


      I am more
      than a dark
      loveliness that
      hides between
      thick grown
      womanly thighs

      I am more
      than a disposable
      plaything that
      fulfills all your
      secret little
      pubescent fantasies

      I am more than
      a played out
      stereotype that’s
      perpetuated in
      every rapper’s
      uninspired lyrics

      I am inspiration,
      secret stereoscopic
      fantasies that
      grow thick
      with love and
      groan for more.

    31. bclay says:

      I am late to this April’s Pad, which gives me an idea….

      I am late to the show….

      not just any show, but yours love,
      after weeks of helping with the lines,
      preparing you for the kiss at the end of
      Act 1 – biting the after-taste of a love story
      off my lips, how could i dare watch you act it
      out with another- will you see my intermission’s
      entrance as public admittance of my jealous heart?

    32. De Jackson says:

      I Am Of
      (with affection for George Ella Lyon’s “Where I’m From”)

      Ohioan blood,
      soaked deep in
      words like pritnear
      and clumb as past tense
      for climb.

      ocean and salt
      and silt and sand,
      the places where
      water woos the land
      and treasures tremble
      in hungry hands.

      rain songs and
      moon shadows
      and loose-laced
      trees against
      star-stung sky.

      betrayal and renewal
      and all the –als
      in between,
      how and why
      and astounding grace
      and second chances
      and mulled-over mulligans
      and daily do-overs
      and a dozen different
      ways to mean
      and thank you
      for forgiven flaws.

      gratitude and longing
      in equal measure,
      dipped in hope
      and simple pleasures
      and sometimes decked
      out in pure stunned joy.

      parchment and pages,
      indigo ink
      and chalk and paint
      and sapphire smudge,
      muse that won’t budge
      and sacred scars
      etched deep,
      still healing.

      stealing moments
      and feeling lost,
      harried hapless heart
      and phrases tossed
      to rebel breeze.

      , and through, and
      under and after and with

                     restless toes,
                          itchy inky fingers,
                     longing to begin.


    33. Sharon says:

      I Am New

      I wake up new
      happy to be alive
      and be me.

      With my ups
      and my downs,
      my smiles
      and my frowns;
      it matters not
      whether I’m
      rich or poor,
      I’m blessed
      each day
      to be new.

      Leaving behind
      yesterday’s goofs
      I’ll start over,
      today I am new.

    34. tonijoell says:

      I am Unwelcome

      on your doorstep
      in polite conversation
      at your dinner table
      in your proper church
      among your friends
      in your daughter’s bed
      in her home
      on her wedding invitation
      in your family
      as your daughter-in-law
      as your grandson’s other mother
      as an intrusion into your right-wing world
      here, anywhere,
      with you.

    35. LouiseBilborough says:

      i am so much more
      than you think i am
      than i thought i was

      you don’t see me clearly
      you never have

      your words stacked up
      like bricks on my head
      pushing me
      into the dirt

      i believed i was weak
      and small
      and meant nothing
      to anyone

      and then she came
      and said
      yes you can
      and lent me her wings

      and she cheered
      and smiled
      as i pushed over
      that stack of bricks

      i recycled them
      and built myself
      a pedestal
      and i climbed on top
      and stood tall

    36. THEGingerSass says:

      “I Am Tired…”

      I am tired…
      of falling behind in writing prompts
      of writing papers for professors
      of creating 42-pages lesson plans for hypothetical dream classes
      of working in a field that no longer makes me happy
      of apply to new jobs that won’t call me back
      of writing to Ellen DeGeneres on our birthday
      of being too poor to go to the grocery store
      of having too much wealth in my life to complain
      of being the friend that everyone depends on
      of worrying about not being good enough
      of Beanie Baby unicorns falling off my disco ball on the armoir at 12:47am
      of needing to clean an apartment I have to pack up
      of forgetting to buy basic necessities for grad school like tylenol and printer paper
      of shaving to shave my legs every time I want to wear a dress or a skirt
      of wondering where I’ll be 365 days from now
      of questioning if my writing will ever get me anywhere
      of undergrads keeping me up at night with their noise in the hallway
      of starting the dishwasher and finding a dirty coffeemug 32 minutes later
      of relying on caffeine to keep my body at a barely functioning state

      I am tired.

    37. Dini says:

      I Am Not

      “I am not
      moving to Texas,”
      I said.
      Seventeen years later
      I said,
      “It’s been a nice ride.”

    38. dextrousdigits says:

      I am a recliner
      when you sit in my warm cozy lap
      and lean your head back
      you begin to sink down into the supporting cushion
      I am here to hold you.

      Your muscles will start to unlock
      and you will find yourself melting.
      As your neck rests,
      your arms will follow
      as if the tension were dripping,
      dripping onto the floor.
      Next, your chest relaxes,
      your breathing begins to get slower and slower
      your belly leisurely rises and falls
      with your unhurried deep breaths

      You begin to feel a profound calmness.
      All the stress and busy-ness is put behind you.
      as you let go and simply
      focus on how good you feel
      you and me together.
      I am here to embrace you in my safe lap and arms

    39. It took me all day to come up with something. Sometimes the simpler prompts are harder if you need something to really goose your muse. NaPoWriMo’s prompt was simply to write a poem that begins and ends with the same word. For some reason I thought of palindromes, though this is a “palindrome-word” poem and a Fibonacci to boot.

      I Am Busy

      too stressed out,
      working on errands,
      tiring chores, honey-do lists,
      spinning plates, juggling balls, throwing out garbage – no
      time to write, Fibonacci in palindromes. In Fibonacci poems, write to time,
      no garbage out. Throwing balls, juggling plates, spinning
      lists, honey-do chores, tiring
      errands, on-working,
      out-stressed, too

    40. I Am Sitting in the Sun

      I am sitting in the sun
      on our front veranda
      just where you liked to sit,
      in a chair almost identical
      to the one you always used.
      (That one, I finally noticed,
      had had its day — ironic.)

      I have added a small table
      between the pot plant and the chair.
      Yes, that potplant’s still hanging on.
      What does it mean when a jade bush,
      placed at the door for luck,
      lasts frailly for decades
      yet fails to thrive?

      I am seeing parallels, of course,
      with you in your last years,
      before you died. I am looking back
      at the ways that, even then,
      you enjoyed your life.
      Eventually you wouldn’t sit
      too long out here in the sun.

      Even our winter sun gets hot,
      and the damn chair
      had become uncomfortable.
      Why did you never say?
      I would have changed it for you.
      But you seldom complained,
      I realise only now. You were amazing!

      I am cherishing
      the ordinary things of life,
      as you did, knowing
      these are our blessings, these
      are the things that matter:
      our fine, unearned delights.
      I am sitting in the sun.

      • carolecole66 says:

        Love the images, the contrasts, the quiet rhythm. The pot plant threw me off though. I thought the speaker was growing marijuana at first. I always heard it as “potted plant.”

    41. happys says:

      I am at a loss…

      I am at a loss
      Heart seems like jake frost
      Still possible to defrost?

      Once hurt, twice shy
      Mind keeps asking why
      When can I again see a blue sky?

      I am at a loss
      But keeping my fingers crossed
      To find my way back into love at minimal cost

    42. I Am Enamored of Purple

      Scent of lavender swaying
      in fields complements calm
      color of fuzzy heads rising.

      Royalty in velvet robe
      of purple majesty
      like mountain tops in twilight.

      Glittering grape crystal, fortune-
      teller’s spinning ball of cryptic knowledge
      in another sense.

      Poetic Asides
      April Challenge – Day 18
      I Am _____

    43. ValerieO says:


      I am
      A patient demeanor
      Open doors to chance
      Sound sleep
      Thrift stores
      Love & laughter
      A long train ride
      Sunrise & sunset
      Flowers without reason
      Full moon and stary skies
      Home cooked meals
      Multiple talents
      Intellectual conversations
      Toni Morrison, Sandra Cisneros,
      Maya Angelou, Ellen Hopkins, Edgar Allan Poe,
      Oscar Wilde, Saul Williams, Mos Def
      Vacations in NYC
      Cousins who check on me
      and send well wishes in text
      Release through tears

    44. shethra77 says:


      I am the optimist
      the one who each spring
      pokes seeds into soil.

      I am the gardener
      who weeds, picks and chooses:
      “You live, you live… not you! Die like a dog!”

      I am the peruser
      of every weather report
      released in the growing season.

      I am the water bearer…
      no hose, only buckets , and a
      tiny pot for ladling.

      I am the lucky one
      who sometimes sees a plant
      which was planned for.

    45. I AM A COW

      Its me,
      the milk bearer.

      Listen, let me give you
      a tip….

    46. I AM EMPTY

      This muse is running on E.
      There seems to be nothing left
      for poetry.

    47. ewdupler says:

      Life’s Most Rewarding Job

      I am an example
      I am a protector
      I am the rule-maker
      I am the one that grounded you
      I am a shoulder to cry on
      I am a hand to hold
      I am wisdom you’ll ignore
      I am your bank
      I am the one you ask when Mom says “no”
      I am stupid until you hit about 25
      I am the one who will always be
      Your Dad

    48. Perhaps I Am One

      One who might recognize him.
      One whose heart gasps with each image shown.
      Perhaps his girlfriend,
      His sister,
      His mother, father, neighbor or friend.
      One who shudders at the possibility that he may be
      The one.
      One who needs the courage,
      The valor,
      The depth of heart
      To do the right thing …
      To report my suspicion,
      To turn him in,
      To stomach what his future (if he has one) may look like.

      (To those of you who may recognize one of the suspects in the Boston bombings – my prayers for your strength to do the right thing.)

    49. BDP says:

      “I Am Shop Vac Girl”

      My friend’s basement’s full of puddles.
      I’m squishing tennies through them,
      young again, so that’s why
      when vacuuming the water I hunt
      for worms, just as when splashing through
      rain as a kid, the more thunder

      the better. Searching for what might come
      through cracks, I’ve mapped each
      liquid road across the floor, I’ve circled
      back with screaming suction
      to catch renegade seepage
      in escape. And slowly gain dry
      ground, so relax my guard, begin

      to consider other
      breakages, the tulip through soil,
      peep of dawn’s first bird, snap
      retreat of lightning,
      today’s headlines, Boston bombing,
      fertilizer plant on fire in Texas.

      I drain the Shop Vac once,
      twice, multiple times,
      an act the opposite of insanity,
      refill it—always the same motion—to reach
      the bottom of a problem.
      I expect this result.

      As my reward—and this is my only
      tangible find—I bend to pick up a Liberty dime.

    50. Angie5804 says:

      I Am Overwhelmed

      I’m so very tired
      running on empty
      can’t be what I want to be
      can’t do what I want to do
      can’t quite be what I should
      not doing all I could

      So, bring me coffee
      bring me clouds
      fill me up
      pour the words into me
      prop my feet up
      and I’ll pray
      tomorrow’s a new day

    51. carolecole66 says:

      I am a cup of coffee–

      brewed, half stewed,
      potent, aromatic, hot.
      I can wake you up,
      sit you up, make you
      pace all night.
      Smooth as sugar,
      heavy as cream,
      I can burn you,
      make you yearn for one
      quick sip. I can seduce you,
      entice you to spend your last dime.
      Or I can drop you like a stone
      into a stream of ice.

    52. RobHalpin says:

      I am a Jelly Doughnut

      When giving
      speeches in foreign
      ask locals
      to help make sure you don’t claim
      you’re ein berliner.

    53. kali.kristine says:

      I am an egg.
      Small, round, and naive.

      I am a caterpillar.
      Long, wormlike, and angsty.

      They say I will be a butterfly one day,
      A beautiful one,
      As powerful as a monarch.

      I think I’ll be a caterpillar forever.

    54. PoM says:

      I am sinner
      with a wicked heart
      Live in darkness
      it’s not my fault
      I’ve searched for the light
      tried to fight darkness
      all of my life
      tried to practice the virtue’s
      my parents they taught
      do not always triumph
      at times I faulter
      I stumble get lost
      But still I push forward
      To that little speck
      A glimmering dim light
      Somewhere far off
      Shining within
      the deep deep dark

    55. Julieann says:

      I Am Invincible

      I leap tall buildings
      in a single bound
      I dive to the ocean’s floor
      to see what can be found

      I rescue fair maidens
      and princesses alike
      Fire breathing dragons
      don’t even put up a fight

      I whittle large scary monsters
      down to a manageable size
      As for villains and crooks
      they tell me no lies

      I am invincible
      I stand tall and fight
      ‘til Mama calls me in for supper
      and it’s time to say good-night

    56. Arash says:

      I Am the Contortionist

      by Arash

      I am the dirt
      On the jagged wheel
      That runs over
      The infant
      On the elevated bed
      Suckling on the machine.
      I am the ice crystal
      In the morning calm
      For only a second
      The skin
      Of the Tsar Bomb.
      I am the long legs
      That cross
      In blind alleys
      Behind stuffed cemeteries.
      I am the swaying hips
      Of the African sunset
      That reaches into you
      Across the ocean
      Where bags of bones float.
      I am the contortionist behind
      The ruby curtains
      Surrounded by
      Empty ivory seats
      Needing to entertain
      Fellow Wounded vets.

    57. Larry says:

      “I am the voice you hear in your dreams”
      The voice that tells you to not to quit
      I am the whisper from you
      The whisper that says you can
      I am the shout from your lips
      The shout that says I did.

    58. I AM THE POEM

      you’ve been carrying around
      in your pocket all day to show someone,
      to maybe even read out loud. This is
      Poem in Your Pocket Day, after
      all. You put me in your back jeans pocket
      this morning because, on first acquaintance,
      I caught your eye, I seemed to mean
      something worth saying. Do you remember
      what it was? You’ve been sitting on me
      all day, giving me wrinkles.
      Soon I will speak myself out loud so all
      in the room can hear. You will be
      very embarrassed, to have sentences,
      rhythm and rhyme emanating
      from where you sit. But I
      will be simply myself
      the poem.

    59. “I am the dress”

      she said,
      after laying the dress neatly on the floor,
      laying on top of it and not moving.

      “I am the door”, she said
      as a car drove by on the street
      and she froze and melted against the door
      not moving until the car was out of sight.

      I am the mother
      who tried not to laugh
      as her young daughter periodically
      became inanimate objects.

      I am the smile
      lighting up your face
      as you remember.

    60. lionmother says:

      juliee: Thank you!!

      profal29: We have all had to pray too much!!!

    61. julie e. says:

      Some serious silliness on a Spring day.


      I’ve quit the sniff-
      ling and the wheez-
      ing but there’s some-
      thing quite displeas-
      ing when I take
      my medication
      my thoughts take
      on a beat.
      Always rhyth-
      mic sometimes dra-
      ma sometimes more
      like blunt-force trau-
      ma and it’s just the
      strangest thing when
      my thoughts take
      on a beat Oh my
      thoughts keep up
      the beat even when
      I’m counting sheep
      I can’t be sure what’s
      my allergies are
      such a curse but
      they’re keeping up
      the beat (I can’t
      seem to stop
      the beat!)

    62. julie e. says:

      Weird confession: allergy medications put a rhythm in my head. One year my thoughts were all rhymey, this year they’ve sounded a bit more like musical theatre. But this one sounds like the marking of time to me, in the same vein as my CLOCK one below.


      soft light
      brother’s birthday
      bird song
      stretch and yawn
      that’s today—
      a year ago
      you went away
      and didn’t
      wake up

    63. Domino says:

      Who am I?

      I am
      the voice in your head
      that tells you to run.

      I am
      the whisper in the dark
      that makes you look over your shoulder.

      I am
      the moonless night
      that gives shape to your nightmares.


      I am also
      the idea that wakes you
      and makes you write down that new poem.

      and I am
      the adrenaline surge
      when you’ve gotten that scene just right.

      and I am
      that moment you get chills
      because someone else loves your work.

      I am your imagination.

      If you never let me go,
      I will take you to
      every time
      every place
      you can imagine.

      Diana Terrill Clark

    64. julie e. says:

      (i’m curious, tell me if you can hear it)

      I AM A CLOCK

      I am a clock
      in search of a doodad
      that has come off
      in search of a home
      to let me chime
      and once again
      to mark the time
      as it passes.
      I am a clock
      and that’s my job
      and I miss it
      that and my
      I’m in

    65. Raina Masters says:

      I am the junk mail on the kitchen table

      Sitting here unmoved, an afterthought.
      I sit at a forty five degree angle
      and slowly collect the dust that floats
      through the air. Even the gnats make a
      point to ignore me. I am unwanted, ignored.
      Your hand touches only to move me aside,
      to find your keys, your cell phone.
      Every day, I hope that your hands will
      brush my edges, will open me slowly and
      your eyes will consume every inch of me.

    66. Jane Shlensky says:

      I am Sneezing

      I’m weary of pollen.
      It’s making me sullen,
      for sneezes so sudden
      give me such brain freeze.

      I know plants must spread it;
      I give them the credit
      for gardens of veggies
      and blossoms and trees.

      Still I’m fond of breathing;
      I won’t be bequeathing
      my gasping and wheezing.
      I’m down on my knees.

      I’ll use medication
      and ponder creation,
      accept pollination
      as healthy—then sneeze.

    67. Rhae says:

      ‘I am tired’

      I am tired of the media
      always on a mission to blame

      I am tired of politics
      regardless of a vote, people still choose ignorance

      I am tired of people
      making excuses and never being accountable

      I am tired of discrimination
      I’m disliked but I choose to respect your You

      I am tired of negativity
      yes I believe in a Utopia

      I am tired of repetition
      not of this poem but lack of worldly change,

      yes, I am tired.


    68. drwasy says:

      I am full

      of apple cake
      wrapped in a white
      paper napkin

      It tasted good to me
      It tasted good
      to me. It tasted
      good to me

      The apple chunks
      smelled like leaves falling
      raisins full of summer
      set my teeth to ache

      The cake filled me
      the hollow space
      under my heart.
      It tasted good to me

    69. Melanie says:


      I am but dust, a tiny speck
      And yet He speaks to me
      I marvel at such sweeping grace
      And ask “How can this be?”

      The One who takes the stars and flings
      Them wide for all to see
      Creation balanced on His palm
      Yet still He cares for me

      Worthless, yet He keeps me as
      The apple of His eye
      Reaches down to lift me up
      And carry me on high

    70. DeniseBush says:

      I am Unfinished.

      Half-combed hair,
      the spot that was missed,
      the footprint in the cement,
      the never-ending to-do list.

      A beautifully bound blank book.
      Gold trim pages filled with bright white bland Nothing.
      The blinding emptiness disorients the reader.
      Guessing the rest, they find the message meant;
      the one that they needed to see and wanted me to be.
      I am the . . .

    71. Jane Shlensky says:

      I Am Alive Again

      I am a plant called Lazarus
      sprung greening from a single root,
      when all the rest of me was dead,
      a skeleton of broken twigs.

      I try to tell these gardeners
      who cannot wait for leaf and bloom
      that vegetation has its hour
      like any other living thing.

      I’ve seen them jerk a plant from earth
      when it’s putting down feeder roots,
      ignorant of the food we need
      to give them what they think they want.

      I’ve rested for three seasons now;
      perhaps they mourned me and forgot,
      but now I send a tendril up,
      and they’ rename me Lazarus.

      I don’t know who Lazarus was—
      perhaps a grand experiment,
      for there is wonder in their eyes
      as they mulch me and wait for more.

    72. dextrousdigits says:

      I am a Diamond
      each facet when held to the light
      reveals sparkling prisms
      yet their are places the light doesn’t reach
      that are dark and very hidden.

    73. mschied says:

      I am more than I seem

      Those who see me pass me by
      a bland exterior
      surface poxmarked with
      and sadness
      exhaustion rippling
      in tense waves
      across a pale visage

      this concrete facade
      conceals hidden depths
      of bubbling fire
      neurons sparking
      a pinwheeled explosion
      mystery colliding with humor
      fortitude cascading into pools of vulnerability
      swirling like painted oils
      in an ever-present broth
      of knowing which
      no one acknowledges

      those perceptive few get a glimpse
      are able to pull the dangling threads
      snagged from life’s rich tapestry
      by those who care

      the rest will never know what they missed

    74. profal29 says:

      the intensity of the challenge
      of which, I love challenges
      take me back and put me on a horse
      hand me my lance and let me ride

      the joust is on and I am ready
      off we go, me and my steed
      heading as close as the divider
      will allow, slapping my visor down
      as i aim for my challengers chest

      across my body goes my lance
      my shield rises up to block
      his advances, kicking and faster
      until our horses are at full gallop

      our lances meet and slide up each others
      shields raise to block their onslaught
      I lean into the dividing line, shield high
      and make contact with his body

      a loud crash occurs but as I look back
      we both are seated steed high and ready
      I am a fool but I can do this all day…
      and then I woke up

    75. deringer1 says:

      I AM FREE (shadorma)

      I am free,
      and though my body
      tries to chain
      me in cells
      of pain and grief, still
      I make my escape.

      Yes, I will
      break the bars with faith
      in God’s love.
      I am free.
      No pain can hold my spirit,
      though I struggle here.

    76. foodpoet says:

      I am an empty
      Passport full of dreams that
      Never departs

    77. Brian Slusher says:


      about the child. Sure, every kid
      has an imaginary friend, but
      she has an imaginary

      boss. She goes to work daily
      in the pretend chocolate factory,
      clocks in and I’d understand if

      she were in Research, gobbling
      samples or Advertising, making
      delicious posters, but she toils in

      Accounting, a little ledger on
      her pink desk. Sometimes I pass
      her room and hear a sigh escape,

      I look in and ask “Want to go
      for ice cream?” and she looks tired,
      puts down her sparkly pencil

      and says, “Wish I could, but
      I have to crunch these numbers
      Or the boss’ll kill me!”

    78. JRSimmang says:

      I am a seed

      I can’t remember when
      or where I heard it,
      but a friend,
      and I know them,
      but they told me I was a seed.

      From which tree I fell, I
      cannot tell.
      From which flower I
      was carried,
      I cannot say.
      From which grass that blows
      in the breeze and browns
      in the winter,
      I cannot truly respond.

      I wish I knew, though.
      I wish I knew that I were inborn of some
      greater purpose.
      And perhaps I can serve some greater purpose still.

      They say that I am planted,
      and when I am planted, I stew.
      I stew until the moment
      that I become an itch.
      I become an itch that can’t be scratched.
      Then, I stir.
      I stir the soil around me
      causing ripples in the earthen flesh.
      People who are good enough
      can see this. They can feel
      the tiny convulsions underneath the surface.

      They tell me that I’m fragile right now.
      That if I were not grasped I would halt. I would never bear fruit.

      Fruit. That is my purpose is it not?
      Then again, I don’t know whether I
      should provide shade to allow
      my offspring the natural cultivation,
      if I should flower and be admired,
      or give of my meat and flesh
      to sustain generation after generation.

      Eventually, I will become too large for the soft ground to hold.
      And the, after I persist for hundreds of years, I will be struck to the death,
      to rest upon my torn core and bleed out, tempered and soiled.

      But, I am a seed, this much I know.
      I do but sit and grow.

    79. alana sherman says:

      I am thinking of you this cool, breezy night.
      Stars beyond number glitter bright
      on water’s luminescent
      skin. Sea and sky engulf
      us with their grandeur .
      In this cove wind
      makes rigging
      hum, turns

      into a
      soft thrum on the shore.
      I dreamed you
      —your face close
      as the stars—You were laughing,
      we all were laughing.


    80. identity says:

      I Am

      I am the warmth in your heart
      As you hold a child, kiss a lover,
      Feel the sun break through
      The mist of a lonely night;
      I am the joy in your triumphs,
      The ambition in your goals,
      The pain in your broken bones,
      Your broken heart, your broken life;
      I am the reason you can say
      I am.

    81. lionmother says:

      I am Tired

      I am tired of seeing carnage
      on my TV screen
      the blood staining cement
      and people maimed by

      I am tired of seeing
      innocents destroyed by
      maniacal acts
      done by people who
      somehow have turned
      so angry at the world
      around them they must
      obliterate it any way
      they can

      I am tired of seeing
      memorials to good people
      who were in the right place
      at the wrong time
      whose lives were destroyed
      in a single instant by a bullet
      or an explosion

      I am tired of hearing
      about the strength
      of each group to fight
      the horror around them
      and I wish never to see
      pictures of white coated
      doctors and scrub nurses
      holding onto hurting bodies
      in hopes of giving them
      back their old lives

      I am tired of seeing
      children killed and young
      girls who had the hope
      of their youth in their eyes
      mowed down like so much

      I am tired of watching TV
      glued as if moving would
      keep me from knowing
      another truth about a
      senseless act

      I am tired of mourning
      the lives cut short
      and seeing the horror
      in the eyes of their
      loved ones

      I am tired of people
      who must thwart any
      effort to stop this
      violence by gunfire
      and I am tired
      of politics driving our safety

      I am tired of weeping
      for the lost ones
      and for grieving for
      people who only
      wanted to pursue
      their own happiness.

    82. wrestling words
      tumbling & grappling
      vexing they vie
      for attention
      their merits pro-
      seeking nomination
      twisted & entwined
      defying my gumption
      denying intention
      seceded allies they
      conspire against me
      unruly tenacious
      & tantrum-throwing
      these are my naughty


    83. I am on Empty

      I am on empty
      With no gas station in sight
      I wish that was one
      Just off to the right
      But no, it’s a carwash
      So I’ll stop there right now
      And I’ll contemplate
      While I rub with this towel

      I am without cell phone
      It’s leant to a friend
      I like to be someone
      On one can depend
      But now I’m high and dry
      Just like my car
      Now I’m wishing
      I had OnStar

      I am walking
      It’s good for my health
      And that is much better
      Than magnificent wealth
      I spy a payphone
      But oh my gosh
      I spent all my quarters
      At the carwash

      I am enjoying the scenery
      As I trudge a long
      But when I return
      My car is now gone
      I flag down a policeman
      He found my car
      Since it was on empty
      It didn’t get very far

      I am supposed to get married
      At quarter till four
      But now that it’s seven
      My chances are poor
      Now that I made it
      My bride is in tears
      I hope she’ll forgive me
      But it may take years

      I am now married
      And will be awhile
      Since for better or worse
      She said with a smile
      Whoever stole my car
      Must have been mean
      But now for my honeymoon
      At last it is clean

    84. I AM READY

      Right around the corner
      Lies the unknown
      But I’m ready for it.

      It sticks in my mind
      Keeping me on my toes
      But I’m ready for it.

      Preparations abound
      And anticipation jets sky high
      But I’m ready for it.

      Several weeks to go
      I eagerly await what’s to come
      And I’m ready for it.

    85. I Am Sight:

      light-slash – night
      as if
      a fault
      held up
      his hand
      to separate
      the plunging black
      provide us

      too bright
      to exit space

      black night comes
      pouring back – blinding

    86. P.A. Beyer says:

      Godspeed fleet ones

      there’s no equipment to protect
      no referee whistles
      no penalties
      for holds
      or travels
      or fan interference
      or dropped balls
      (as seen from a couch)
      there’s only
      the shirt on your back
      a pair of shorts and
      shoes with double knotted laces
      with your distances
      in yards
      and ks
      and meters
      and miles
      with your paces
      and splits
      and PRs
      on flats
      and hills
      and lanes
      and trails
      where the only sound
      you’ll eventually hear
      is your heartbeat
      and your breath
      It may not happen at the start
      or even the middle
      but at some point
      give in
      the truth
      “ I
      and at that point
      are truly free

      • P.A. Beyer says:

        I penned this one after Monday’s tragic events, trying to capture the spirit of a runner as opposed to the sadness of the day. I know it doesn’t exactly follow today’s instructions but I’m ok with taking literary liberties.

    87. pmwanken says:

      I AM Loved
      (a piku)

      HE paid the
      on my behalf.

    88. Misky says:

      I Am Gagging

      I am gagging
      for a cup of tea,
      my feet are lagging
      behind my knees,
      my eyes are nagging
      for a kip o’sleep,
      my tongue is wagging
      like a wilted leek,
      my lips would beg
      if they could speak,
      please, I’m gagging
      for a cup of tea!

    89. vxl says:

      I am Bic

      The father and the bird.
      The hand of Bernini
      guiding each
      The food we eat.

      Words were frantic
      on our first date -
      nerves mortising
      our stories.
      The effect
      was shortened distance.

      Squeezing away the spaces.

      The heroic couple.
      Nobody rhymes alone.
      Born of wood
      and kerning,
      nature, the hand of Bernini,
      forged us
      into symmetry
      as he holds every
      atom in check.

      Squeezing away spaces.

      when we hug
      I imagine one
      body subsuming
      the other. Unity.
      Prosperina’s meaty
      thigh sinking into
      a tight grasp. I have to remind
      myself we are stone. Not blood

      Squeezed from the spaces.

    90. missjoyce says:

      I Am ___

      I Am Not Guilty

      She gets home late
      tired from a long day
      places car keys
      on the wooden tray.

      She checks the phone
      and sits herself down
      wondering if
      the word has spread town.

      Just a long beep
      no new message there
      sighing she stood
      headed up the stairs.

      She finds her bed
      alone, empty, cold
      its been so long
      since her soul was sold.

      Haunted by truth
      she repeats softly,
      holding herself:
      “I am not guilty.”

    91. PressOn says:


      I offer words and sometimes crutches
      to writers blocked by clinging clutches
      of screens and papers leering blank
      when creativity’s in the tank;

      that’s when I offer singing rhymes
      for chimes and climes and mimes and dimes.
      And for my service? Some abuse it
      and many say, “I never use it.”

    92. IrisD says:

      I am Autumn (a Harrisham)

      Pecking in mass of fallen leaves
      Geese eat berries the cedars shed
      Eagles floating on evening breeze
      Share the gray skies overhead
      Dusk descends as lone deer flees
      Kiss of sun on horizon turns red

    93. What Am I?

      I work well with others
      I enjoy harmony
      And I work well alone
      You’re familiar with me
      I must be well cared for
      Your ear is my friend
      Be careful, I’m fragile
      If I break, it’s the end
      There are millions of me
      All over the world
      When I’m new I’m wound up
      In a circular curl
      So many have touched me
      Some love me for life
      To some I’m more precious
      Than a husband or wife
      One last clue I’ll give you
      By letter I’m named
      Now thank you for playing
      The “What Am I” game

    94. I am so much more
      More than can be realized
      Just by what you see

    95. I Am Willing

      Years spent running
      Living by my own rules
      Doing my thing
      All in vain

      Years wasted
      Running in place
      Spinning in the mud
      Of worldly pleasures

      All the while looking
      For something
      Anything that would
      Quench my thirst
      Fulfill my desires
      Bring me happiness
      Make it all worthwhile

      But it never came
      Happiness eluded me
      Satisfaction never once
      Developed in my life

      I remained empty
      A life unfulfilled
      A rear view so fraught
      With disappointment

      I fell to my knees
      Crying in despair
      Calling out for guidance
      Seeking release from
      The emptiness of failure

      Then He reappeared
      Returning from a past
      I thought long gone

      He spoke softly to me
      As He touched my soul
      Flooding me with love
      Calming my restlessness
      Driving out my despair
      Lifting me up
      Just as He had
      The first time we met
      So long, long ago

      But this time was different
      This time I was ready
      Ready to walk with Him
      Accept His plan for my life
      Ready to tell Him
      With confidence that
      I am willing

      Years spent running
      Living by my own rules
      Doing my thing
      All in vain

    96. I am

      the voice you hear in your dreams,
      the warm body edging up close
      long after you’ve fallen asleep

      the melody you sometimes hear
      as you drive along in your car,
      the lyrics you can’t quite forget

      the scrap of a note by your chair
      in a wisp of a pencil scrawl
      you recognize as surely as your own

      numerator to your denominator,
      systolic to your diastolic;
      you supply the metaphor

      the lingering fragrance in your air,
      more sunshine than flowers,
      more me because I have you

    97. RJ Clarken says:

      I am a Fan

      “I’m also a fan of ridiculously coloured and patterned socks.” ~Daniel Radcliffe

      I am a fan of baseball and
      I like to watch an artist draw.
      A Broadway show? I am in awe.
      Don’t even ask: my favorite band

      is what’s now playing. Ain’t it grand?
      I’m into books by G.B. Shaw.
      I like to watch an artist draw.
      I am a fan of baseball and

      I just adore stuff made by hand.
      From patterned socks I won’t withdraw
      (‘though it’s a guideline, not a law.)
      Most things (by me) are wholly fanned.
      I am a fan of baseball and…


    98. RJ Clarken says:

      I am Thinking of Imaginary Numbers

      “Think of Adam and Eve like an imaginary number, like the square root of minus one: you can never see any concrete proof that it exists, but if you include it in your equations, you can calculate all manner of things that couldn’t be imagined without it.” ~Philip Pullman

      Imagination! Think of it!
      Just beyond the ordinary
      lives a vast depositary
      that’s full of spirit, full of wit

      with math and science (just a bit.)
      a virtual commissary
      just beyond the ordinary.
      Imagination! Think of it!

      I go there often, I admit.
      Little ‘i’ is clever. Very.
      Flying monkey. Tiny fairy.
      Magic reigns by some strange quiddit.
      Imagination! Think of it!


    99. priyajane says:

      I never say a word
      Just, unveil your snagging blinds
      I never wave a smile
      Just aglow, your tender shine
      I never rant and rave
      Just light a spark, that makes you bind
      I never take your hand
      Just, some heartbeats skip your chime
      I never change my dress
      Just some neurons, you combine
      I never show my face
      Just a haunting, you define
      And all those ‘Never’ manifests
      Still, keep playing in your mind—

    100. PressOn says:

      I AM A B-17

      Rumbling, rumbling, rumbling, rumbling,

      my waking radial engines thrash the air
      and pull my fuselage. My mass at last
      accelerates across the tarmac, past
      the tower; I climb aloft with tight despair.

      Trembling, trembling, trembling, trembling,

      the crew and I together share the fright
      of yet another mission. Twenty-four
      have come and gone, and now we face one more:
      a final pass through hell; a final flight.

      Like thunder, thunder, thunder, thunder,

      the flak flings bursts throughout the whole
      formation, sending fellow men and planes
      to earth before their time. Then weaving skeins
      turn back for home; my motors rasp and roll:

      “Endure, endure, endure, endure.”

    101. I Am Switching Things Up

      Lately, I’ve been up and down.
      Sometimes I’m wired, yet have no outlet
      (So to speak).
      I’m currently dim,
      As though I have no power.
      Time to shed a little light on the subject.
      I’m switching things up.
      Don’t tamper with me.

    102. nimcatch says:

      || I am a Poet ||

      I want to be a poet,
      but I don’t know the rhymes.
      I thought for lasting hours,
      the ink got dried at times.

      I went to the jungle,
      in hope of finding themes.
      But run back with heart in mouth,
      seeing beasts beyond wildest dreams!!

      I tried to portray the one,
      whom I loved the most.
      But only to discover later,
      that “Love’s Labour Literally Lost”!!

      I ventured into dark night,
      to ponder the music that seep.
      Woke up the next morning,
      after slipping into deep sleep.

      I have been to the beach,
      to get inspired from the ocean.
      But tsunamis haunted my mind,
      and now I take precaution.

      I plagiarised a few odes,
      to make way in a contest.
      But could escape the poet’s rage,
      only after a year’s protest.

      I just now came to know,
      this is not a science of rocket.
      By the time one reads this,
      I would have become a POET!! ;)


    103. I am not “that girl”, no
      Not me. I’m chaotic to
      core and eclectic
      in everything. The
      enigma of
      conundrum, I’m
      full of weird forms
      of expected
      randomness, of
      actions and words
      to shock and
      Stormy disposition
      behind a sunny
      smile; a
      turbulent soul and
      tormented thoughts
      haunting a mouth
      that always is
      laughing. Go
      ahead. Try.
      Unravel me and
      find hidden prize!


    104. Ashley says:

      Here’s one i wrote recently, hope you like it :))

      Here’s what I’ve been wondering
      We’ve brutally killed
      the heaven within
      managed to externalize it
      in the form of religions

      what can a person do
      when even the whispers
      belong to the Satan
      and there’s no sound
      from the heaven within

      So anxious, So afraid
      Why you throwing this peace away
      a capitalist subjectivity
      constantly compared
      for the little gains
      in this competition,
      all seems as is fair

      Why so complacent?
      Stand up, we gotta change this!
      HOPE is the only key to those lost grounds
      Please, don’t go on and trade THIS.

      Yes, believe me now
      Our heaven within
      it can be found
      So, what are we all waiting for?
      Lets begin..
      with a graceful fall

      Be The Change
      Lets call for a WAR!
      It belongs to us
      bereft of ownership
      it still belongs to me
      it exists within everybody

      from within its the same
      in this hidden place
      we’re all one
      no discrimination, no disgrace
      so lets get together
      gather here and embrace
      the truth about human race

      Its upto you now
      to make the call
      to be brave, and
      take the fall, of grace
      This world can be a much better place


    105. tunesmiff says:

      I AM WHAT I AM
      A lover of spinach and babies
      Non-commital to my anexoric girl-friend
      Ready to fight any overweight bully
      Patient with friends who promise to gladly pay me Tuesday
      A dedicated pipe smoker
      Proud tattooed sailor
      Strong to the finish

    106. Home, I’m told, is
      “where the heart
      is”, but a life full of
      many loves scattered
      far and wide has
      littered little heart
      fragments and crumbs
      which form many paths
      that may be followed
      in reverse to many a
      place that once felt like


    107. I AM TIRED

      Slowly slithering
      out of bed.

      I’m late
      but hate to
      raise my head.

      Again for
      another wilting day.
      But here goes nothing.

    108. Following Robert’s lead –

      “I am the Cream”

      White and silky,
      I pick up hints
      of golden sunshine
      as I cascade down
      into freshly brewed coffee,
      muddying the waters
      adding just a taste
      of luxury.

    109. burrhead says:


      I am atomized
      Vapors and mist
      I am paint

    110. Never2L8 says:

      I am a locked box (a bit battered and grey)

      Very few know (or are curious enough to ask)
      my combination (it is easier to live superficially)
      and even they (don’t visit often)
      don’t have the key (I haven’t offered it)
      to the little case (my deepest heart)
      in the very back (quivering in the dark)

    111. I am not doing that!

      No way!
      not under any circumstances
      not even if you plead and beg
      not with your crying and wailing
      not under duress or
      on a guilt trip
      not for all the tea in China
      not in a month of Sundays
      not ever, never!
      not with a gun to my head
      not if my life depended on it
      there is absolutely no way
      that I will do it
      to cut to the chase
      get to the nub
      stop beating around the bush
      and wrap up my argument in a nice neat package
      so to speak
      to coin a phrase
      I am not
      doing that
      I am not!

      How much did you say?
      Oh, well, that’s different.


    112. Dear Moosehead,
      I am impressed! That was a
      brave and inspiring performance last night.
      Come from behind and win in style! I like it!
      I am confident that once the Top Flight
      are back in the side we will romp through
      the season to post-season victory and WS28!
      I am sure you must agree but the fact that you
      refuse to move outta Mets-Ville and have inflicted
      yer harpies on me, leaves me with doubts over
      the sincerity of yer friendship. Oh, yeah and…
      C’mon, would ya? Tell me what yer job is! I’m sure
      it’s illegal or immoral (even worse than your cousin’s
      hobby of dating entire sports teams!) and plus you
      have way more green than me & I work my sorry butt off
      everyday toting my yellow up and down the island!
      Anyhoo… last one at home for a week…let’s close the series
      with a shut-out! Pick me up at 6 and bring yer bill-fold!

      Yours being certain of so much and yet lost in confusion
      like a gridlock in the mid-town tunnel,

      Ringo the Howler

    113. “I am the voice of reason”

      I often try to help you, but
      emotions get in the way
      If you’d just listen to me
      I’d make sure you were okay

      Sometimes the little things
      are what tear us apart
      It’s okay to speak your mind
      but just try to be smart

      You can look with your heart
      but listen with your mind
      Whenever you need me
      I’m never hard to find

      Sometimes you won’t listen
      to what I have to say
      just don’t give me a reason
      and I will go away

      Wayne Murphy 4/18/13

    114. I am

      fair haired wonder
      -ing -(o)us
      green eyed ponder
      -ing -(o)us
      a man
      you(r) (d)ream

    115. bxpoetlover says:

      I am

      how many more bombs
      severed limbs
      school shootings
      and vote them

    116. PowerUnit says:

      I am sorry it didn’t work out
      The knots in your hair say more than your silence
      I remember when I ran away from home
      But of course, you don’t want to hear about that
      I can see it in your eyes
      Have yourself a warm bath, and I’ll make you something to eat
      You’re bed is already made

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