2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 19

Whew! We’re nearly 3 weeks into this challenge. Let’s keep the poems flowing.

For today’s prompt, write a burn poem. I actually wrote a poem titled “burn” earlier in this month’s challenge, so I’m going to have to think a little on this to avoid repeating what I’ve already written. However, burn can represent many things–from getting burned by a bad deal (or a friend) to feeling the burn when working out to physically burning from fires.

Here’s my attempt:

“sunburn”

she doesn’t do tanning beds
she don’t rest beneath the sun
for her the moon is bright enough
to have a little fun

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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.

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

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212 thoughts on “2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 19

  1. williama

    Link Building, Social Media Marketing, Online Reputation Management, Web Design and Development. The company also offers a number of other services to help businesses grow their online presence. Warren Sulmasy

  2. cstewart

    Chattanooga

    Way up high, the night was black.
    On top of the Smokies,
    We saw a house burning,
    In the mountains above Chattanooga
    Raging orange, a farm house of some size,
    But very far and back from the main road.
    It would be hard to reach.
    The fire truck was climbing,
    But it would not be fast enough.

  3. Nadienne

    [another sci-fi poem]

    Thleven Shorn, First Minister of Gyvies

    honored with a statue cast in bronze—
    tall man stooped to hold a palmful of seeds
    to the little green-skinned girl.
    In the histories of your people, it is said
    he tempered kindness with kindness.
    Our history books tell the same stories:
    crispy, crackling kindness.

  4. vsbryant1

    Burn

    The burning thoughts of forever, ends the tragedy when called love
    The fires of what use to be call passion stops, slows, goes out without a word.
    Burn, burning, burned
    Pieces of scorched pages flies through the sky
    I fly high, even though my words blend with the light
    Burning, burned, burn pages, I am the words, I am the night

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