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2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 23

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.

Today is a Two-for-Tuesday prompt. In fact, this is one I include with every challenge. Here are your options:

  • Write a love poem.
  • Write an anti-love poem.

Here’s my attempt:

“love poem”

more today than ever before i feel
i love you spreading through me
as a disease infects a body

without worry or thought of consequences
for hours i stare at paper
trying to draw your face your hands

i want to paste them on billboards
distribute them in fliers
graffiti the entire city with your name

i want to say i love you & lay quiet
in bed listening to cars pass outside
too busy to bother us

more today than i ever before i feel
the impulse & the need
& the overwhelming want

on this gentle morning
love is a squirrel
& i am a hawk


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About Robert Lee Brewer

Senior Content Editor, Writer's Digest Community.

206 Responses to 2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 23

  1. stepstep says:


    Won’t discuss nor compromise
    Sated to shut everyone out
    Of the realm to where fate may leave
    Void, null, empty, possibly alone.

    No matter the situation
    It is inevitable to all parties
    To suffer without restitution
    Love no longer resides here.


  2. vsbryant1 says:

    Love Is

    Love is a four-letter word
    Love is a state of mind
    Love is dancing in the wind
    Love is holding hands
    Love is kissing and hugs

    Love is your smile
    Love is your strength
    Love is your devotion
    Love is your commitment

    Love is everything that is you and I and our family
    Love is simple moments together
    Love is board games and bubbles
    Love is every moment spent

  3. Anti Love (of laziness)

    Arise, Awake, the Sun’s shining bright
    With all its might, it pleads, be a sprite
    For the world, and for your sake too
    Don’t give in to lethargy, oh no, that is not what you are meant to do!
    So stand up, and run, and listen and talk,
    Ride you o! the waves, till you flock
    With like-minded souls, who know not laziness
    With open hearts, who aim to spread happiness

  4. lionmother says:


    Give me that
    feeling when
    all you want to
    do is smile
    wide as a moon
    and dance around
    the room like a loon
    Where emotions burst
    forth spewing like errant
    fireworks helter skelter
    all happiness and all
    glitter and
    I want to wrap my
    arms around all
    human beings to
    show them how happy
    I am

    So intense is this feeling
    it brings tears when I
    think of my loved one
    joy and passion mix
    together when I dwell
    on his arms around mine
    and never letting go.

    Anti – love

    Is this the same person
    who years before swore
    his allegiance to me?
    Whose arms opened
    wide providing a safe
    haven for my weary head
    and I rested there content
    in that space carving a
    niche for myself where
    I could return when needed

    Is this the same person who
    tenderly held me and kissed
    me with passion fueled by
    his fire to consume me
    and I trembled with the
    same fire slipping effortlessly
    as our bodies fit together
    a roar only we could hear
    and wanting you all the time
    was the only way we felt

    That person has withered
    and been replaced by a half-man
    who has forgotten the joy and
    the passion
    who no longer feels the ache
    we once had for each other
    and now has locked his heart
    in a freezer.

  5. mlcastejon says:

    My love poem

    In too deep with you
    never before so complete
    Always on your side

  6. Michelle Hed says:

    One Petal at a Time
    (She loves me, she loves me not…)

    My muse and I were on a roll
    we wrote humorous, we wrote droll.
    But then my muse disappeared.
    She left so long, I could have grown a beard.

    The words wouldn’t come,
    not even a crumb…
    hell, I even tried sucking my thumb -
    didn’t take long to realized that was dumb.

    I pondered life,
    I pondered strife,
    I took a hike,
    I even talked to Mike (he’s vile).

    I was dry, like a dried up prune
    found myself staring at the moon
    and that’s when I saw her, my laughing muse
    ending my pondering of taking up booze.

    We’re back together, two peas in a pod
    and even though our relationship is flawed,
    I wouldn’t discard her for another muse
    for I quite like her poetic views.

  7. Deri says:

    Trigger Effect

    He taps the wheel
    to the tune
    on the car radio
    turned up
    much too loud
    to drown out
    the nagging ticking
    that is coming
    from somewhere
    he can’t think about.
    The stop lights
    frustrate him
    slowing him down
    as the ticking
    grows louder
    until, as he turns
    into the parking lot
    of a seedy motel
    on the side of town
    she never goes,
    he realizes the ticking
    means he has
    only minutes
    to diffuse the bomb.

  8. Yolee says:

    Ordinary People

    “Love took my breath and held it in the ether
    until it saw the whites of my eyes like flags
    surrendering to its essence.”

    I fold the page of the day and wonder
    If you made arrangements to get the garage
    door looked at, and if the mortgage co. budged
    at all. Sometimes we pretend as if losses
    don’t matter, as if we press hard enough into
    faith we won’t feel the numbness that follows
    the sting. As if the soul outweighs the body,
    people like us, the ordinary kind, fall hard
    on the ground like the leaf pushed by the wind.
    We bond with pain. But at some nearly round
    point, love springs from the mud of thought,
    finds a gate in the heart and runs in like a bulletin
    to the silent waves of a story we co-wrote many
    years ago when love was a teenager.

  9. Linda Voit says:

    Marriage Problems Are Not Viral

    But, as you let me know our friends
    are having a hard time, I find comfort
    in your differentiating
    how we disagree and let it go
    how our money is together
    because we are. I can push aside
    the fact there is no immunization
    if you just keep saying we and us.

  10. bahmed22 says:

    Now I turn my back on you,
    Now I take revenge,
    Now my love has turned to hatred,
    No more can I pretend

    I will take you down,
    Before I self-destruct
    Now is my time,
    Now is my day,
    I will take you down to hell,

    Endure the burning, the pain,
    And enjoy,
    Eternity will be your only friend,
    The pain and the misery,
    There will be no end
    Enjoy !!!

    Now I am what I never was,
    Now I am what I always wanted to be,
    I am the devil and I am taking you down,
    To the deepest circles of hell,

    Now you will know the pain that you never knew,
    Rot in there forever,
    And enjoy
    Eternity will be your only friend
    The pain and the misery,
    There will be no end,
    Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy!
    Burn! Burn! Burn!

    I am the devil,
    I am the demon,
    I am the nightmare,
    I am the evil,
    I have traded all my feelings,
    For the one I need the most,
    I am full of hatred now,
    And would love to see you roast,
    In the deepest circles of hell
    Eternity will be your only friend,
    The pain, the misery,
    There will be no end,
    Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy!

    I am the one,
    Who will stand with you till the end,
    I am the one,
    Who will relish your pain till the end,
    I am the one,
    Who will revel in your misery till the end,

    I am here to help you,
    Go through all the agony,
    Suffer all the pain,
    That you once give me,
    With scorn and disdain

    Burn in the deepest circles of hell,
    Eternity will be your only friend,
    The pain, the misery,
    There will be no end,
    Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy!

  11. THEGingerSass says:

    I swore off “soul mates”
    because that’s a load of crap.
    But then she found me.

  12. profal29 says:

    is very special
    it takes me to the highest ground
    and lets me go without falling
    she soothes me

  13. Margot Suydam says:

    Triolet to Love

    Love it can tear your insides up
    one’s always cracked and never clean
    curdled milk, burnt soup fills your cup
    Love it can tear your insides up
    stained with leftover red this cup
    took back kindness, replaced with mean
    Love it can tear your insides up
    one’s always cracked and never clean.

  14. foodpoet says:

    Words are poison intoxication
    A willing addiction
    A love affair with no ending
    No divorce no separation

    A willing addiction
    We are bound by words
    No divorce no settlement
    Entrapped in verse

    We are bound by words
    Pens our shackles
    Entrapped by verse
    Lured by poetry

    Lured by poetry
    A love affair with no ending
    Pens our shackles
    Words are poisonous intoxication

  15. EbenAt says:

    Diptych: Love and Not

    Back when, an Ex said
    “Would you rather be happy
    or comfortable?”
    Like there was
    no in between.

    Not sure when
    I got the clue,
    but it’s far better
    to need decades
    to figure it out,
    than to never have gotten there
    at all.

    Thank you.

    Ah, all the things
    love’s not;


    Them southern rockers
    said it just right.
    Hold on loosely.


    Your daughter has painted a moon
    above the house – the same
    house she’s painted every day
    since he left, a gray house with deep
    blue shutters. Your house.
    Sometimes she blobs dark clouds
    across the sun, or splatters
    charcoal-gray like rain. But today
    it’s a moon. A silver sliver-
    moon that landed on the roof
    and sits perched there – no,
    it’s drilling in, splitting the roof
    in two. Your daughter
    says it’s such a small house,
    and it’s a Spring moon. Tomorrow
    it will be fuller, and crack
    the house open like an egg. It will
    make room for more than two
    inside. Sometimes you hate
    the wishes your daughter paints.

  17. Tracy Davidson says:

    Is This Love?

    that nervous flutter
    I feel inside whenever
    you enter the room…
    or is it dread, not knowing
    what kind of mood you’ll be in

    will that loving man
    I once knew walk through the door
    with a smile and kiss
    or will the other man come,
    the grim-faced one who hurts me

    you say you love me
    but what kind of love is this
    where one lives in fear
    and the other deals it out
    with his fists and feet and belt

    this is not the love
    I read about as a child
    in fairy stories
    nor is it the kind of love
    my mother and father shared

    why can’t you love me
    that way, like you used to do –
    tender and loving –
    before the drinking began
    before the beatings began

    if I found the strength
    to leave you would you follow
    beg me to come back
    would it make you change your ways…
    I pack up my bags and hope

  18. foodpoet says:

    Loving Hating Words

    love for words is fickle
    the muse is often mute
    to my please leaving me in a poetic pickle

    words, glorious words are the root
    of my poetic woes
    they come out all too cute

    not hammer strong blows
    undermining readers minds
    and away into oblivion words and verse goes

  19. bxpoetlover says:

    A love poem

    The word of the day was
    to embrace your sexy

    since I strive not be cliche
    I started with my toes
    hugged each one while I
    applied a splash of brassy red polish
    blew air on them to dry
    dabbed a drop of sandalwood behind each knee
    slid each slender leg into sheer hose
    shimmied into my jade green dress
    slid a bracelet around each wrist
    a necklace around my neck
    two hoop earrings into each ear
    and fluffed my hair into a halo.
    Ready for the night

  20. drwasy says:


    These fickle summer days
    pass, inconsequential and
    wan as gruel, the same
    but not the same.

    Each day a delicate rose
    plucked with deliberate care:

    He loves me
    He loves me not.

    The air swelters,
    thrums cicada song,
    low in the morning
    burning at night.

    At the hoarfrost, the song melts.
    The garden yellows
    and petals wither:

    I love him
    I love him naught

    Cicadas burrow deep
    their husks cleave to tree trunks.

  21. omavi says:

    “My Elixir”

    Words can never really describe
    But this is something i must try to do
    Because of the worth of you
    I must make do with these feeble vowels
    To explain myself to you

    So many things can be said but
    Tongue gets tied so quickly
    Throat parched like a desert
    Only strange sounds escape
    This from just thinking of you

    Hands involuntarily tremble
    A pain so deep, so over-powering
    I know only your soothing kiss
    Can heal this battered wraith
    My soul becomes
    Without you

  22. julie e. says:


    I never liked roses (too pompous)
    till I understood how much they’re like us.
    Some slender and lean
    like a beauty queen
    Others rounded and spreading (the rest of us.)

  23. julie e. says:


    unconditional divine
    puzzling surprising freeing
    this heart of mine

  24. julie e. says:


    I remain amazed
    without me even trying
    You chose to love me

  25. P.A. Beyer says:

    Who’s a Good Boy

    I thought my life was practice – a forty year rehearsal
    For a performance more grandeur and sweet
    By the time I figure out I’ve started life’s reversal
    The network cancels all the good ol’ repeats

    So I sing karaoke, to lighten up my mood
    A song meant to inspire – a ballad of heartbreak and heat
    Though the crowd clears the room when they hear my first tune
    I carry on without missing a beat

    The fire in my drunken eyes, still burns deep into the night
    They may not be an everlasting furnace, but they can warm a seat
    So this Friday night, I lay down by your side, my paws up in plain sight
    And what I want, like all good dogs, is a belly rub, a bone and a treat

  26. Your Hands Speak Love

    Your hands speak love
    In words not made of sounds
    But heard with heart, not ears,
    where love abounds

    They nimbly pluck
    My heart’s eternal strings
    evoking songs as sweet
    as warblers sing

    Work roughened hands
    Create, they toil and wear;
    Then capably enfold,
    Caress, and care;

    And capture this,
    My longing and design:
    My hands with yours shall
    Ever be entwined.

  27. Alpha1 says:

    Suicide Note

    By the time you
    read this I
    oughta be dead
    I just shot a
    bullet right through
    my head
    in case you should wonder
    why i chose to die
    I wrote this note
    to tell you why
    I never imagined
    us comin to an end
    after all this time
    after all we’ve been
    to each other
    not us not never
    I thought this love
    would last forever
    So I hope you understand
    my pledge
    if I have to live
    without your love
    I’d rather be dead

  28. Sara McNulty says:

    Small Points Of Love

    My yard has awakened
    as Snow White’s eyes
    after a soft sweet kiss.

    Overnight, azaleas popped pink,
    white heads of candy tuft spread
    out to catch a warmer sun.

    For over a year, a wooden
    birdhouse has hung untenanted
    from thick maple branch.

    A rustling of tail feathers caught
    my ear. Eyes tracked sound
    to a black and white striped bird,

    poking her head in and out
    of her newly decorated home,
    and I smiled, swelling with love.


    No More (A fibonacci)

    Love sucks,
    I get burned.
    No longer trusting
    men’s pretense, I love hating love.

    Poetic Asides
    April Challenge – Day 23
    Write a love/anti-love poem

    • PressOn says:

      These are interesting: the former takes a bit of time to swell; the latter is short and to the point. Fits the two sentiments, I think. These are good; thanks for sharing.

  29. Jane Shlensky says:

    Sorry I’m tardy to this party, especially today. Too busy to talk of love ;) Maybe a haiku or two will serve until tomorrow.

    All I Know

    When everyone else
    said goodbyes, only you mourned,
    said please, stay–don’t go.

    Of course, it came too
    late to change my course, but I
    remember your face.

  30. carolecole66 says:

    If Not Love, Then What?

    Some days the words don’t speak to me. The language
    almost obscene, a hulking black rock on my tongue,
    like the rocks in the garden where I tried to grow
    corn and strawberries, where I tried to live
    the natural life pretending the dirt was a dark rich
    earth. The sentences won’t twist themselves
    into a rope of meaning any more than the house
    I tried to reclaim would straighten its spine,
    uncurl its shingles, and shelter me. It would not promise
    eternal love though I was bewitched. I pledged my life.
    But adjectives fail me. I think enchantment.
    I think music. I scrubbed the floor, painted
    flaking walls, planted the garden patch and breathed
    cut grass. But verbs are murderous, not acts of love.
    I wrestle the words, choke the ramshackle beast
    and force it to submit.

  31. missjoyce says:

    Prompt: Two-for-Tuesday
    A love/anti-love poem.

    Love consumes you.
    It wraps itself around
    every inch of your skin until
    your every action
    is moved
    by love.

    Love consumes you.
    It leaks itself through
    every coil of your mind until
    your every thought
    is created
    by love.

    Love consumes you.
    It builds itself around
    every corner of your eyes until
    your every sight
    is painted
    by love.

    Love consumes you.
    It makes its way to
    every bud in your tongue until
    your every taste
    is seasoned
    by love.

    Love consumes you.
    It sweeps itself through
    every expansion of your lungs until
    your every breath
    is taken
    by love.

  32. De Jackson says:

    Mirror, Mirror

    On the wall
    or off,
    she hates them,
    has never loved
    this skin, these trembled
    bones. Sticks and stones
    pale and fall, when worst
    of all, that shined slate
    doesn’t slant just right.

    She’s weary of the fight
    and the warpaint
    and the cold restraint
    of wild
    and free.

    She wonders
    what the others
    knowing only
    a world without
    would be fairest
    of them


  33. Angie5804 says:

    Whew! Finally finished! Worked on this in snatches all day in between my 3 part-time jobs, carefully jotting words at red lights and such. I like sestinas!

    So many words articulate love,
    in whispers as the breeze is gentle.
    They come in shades of blue,
    quickening the beat of hearts,
    throwing back the curtain of morning,
    singing the ageless song.

    On, listen closely to the jubilant song,
    rising through the fog on notes of love,
    dancing on the sunbeams of the morning,
    flowing as the breeze, this melody gentle.
    In harmony, it wraps the lover’s heart;
    a symphony, soft and blue.

    A tender touch, feathery blue,
    caresses like a moonbeam song,
    smoothing the covers of the heart,
    soothing the fevered brow of love.
    It wipes away tears, ever gentle,
    until the early light of morning.

    Each day brings joy in the morning.
    Transformed into a beryl blue,
    longsuffering remains so sweet and gentle.
    Wrapped in a warm, quilted song,
    a pure bleached, cotton love,
    is gingerly woven by a faithful heart.

    A strange thing sometimes, the heart.
    What’s old becomes new each morning.
    Time is an honest friend of love,
    like clouds in skies of brilliant blue.
    Hours and minutes are the song.
    Age is a hand still finely gentle.

    It is found in the springtime gentle.
    It can mend the broken heart,
    in lullaby and choir song.
    Lifted up as wings of the morning,
    It breaks forth out of the blue,
    this wondrous thing called love.

    Oh, to wake in the gentle blush of morning,
    to feel the heart and see the glorious blue;
    this would be a song of everlasting love.

  34. Bruce Niedt says:

    NaPoWriMo’s prompt today is to wrote a triolet. Another good fit with Robert’s:


    We’ve kept this up for forty years;
    we must be doing something, right?
    We’ve breezed through laughter, slogged through tears,
    and kept it up for forty years.
    Another lap, we pass to cheers,
    we’ve run the race, we’ve fought the fight
    and kept it up. For forty years,
    we must be doing something right.

  35. tunesmiff says:

    He gave them a choice,
    and let them decide to do
    what their hearts desir’d

  36. smelling fresh cut grass
    speaking in front of a class
    mint chocolate chip ice cream
    creating a public scene
    telling funny jokes
    the smell of cigarette smoke

    quiet places
    intimate embraces
    putting smiles on faces
    failed marriages
    hearing about miscarriages
    remarks that are disparaging

    music on vinyl
    no’s that are final
    hitting SNOOZE
    watching the news
    sleeping late on Sundays
    waking up on Mondays

    loving squeezes
    walks on beaches
    cool ocean breezes
    adults that whine
    heights of great design
    snakes of any kind

    classic movies
    daytime tv
    Pandora radio
    talk radio
    reading books
    snobbish looks

    beautiful eyes
    pretty smile
    great personality
    deceitful lies
    snotty style
    better-than-you mentality

    drinking coffee
    people that are bossy
    eating fried chicken
    being nausea stricken
    running, when I’m finished
    running, while I’m still in it

    writing poetry
    creating a story
    a friend’s loyalty
    house that’s a mess
    job-induced stress
    feeling depressed

    hopeless romance
    one night stands
    playful flirting
    feelings hurting
    women in high heels
    my fetishes revealed
    (oh my… TMI?)

    seeing an attractive woman, by herself, standing in line

    not having the guts to ask her if she’d like to go out sometime

  37. BDP says:

    “Thumbs Down”

    Three weeks away, you’ve shaved your beard,
    a stranger to me at the airport
    and when we wake this morning. Weird:
    three weeks away, you’ve shaved. Your beard
    filled out your Berlin face. But sheared?
    Too smooth. I like an honest consort.
    Three weeks away, you’ve shaved your beard,
    a stranger, to me, at the airport.

    B Peters

  38. Arash says:

    I guess this poem can be both love and anti-love at the same time, I don’t know.

    Timing Belt

    by Arash

    morgue me woman wine love
    well I sort of
    need to start from the timing belt snapped
    sheer floral lace trimmed hiphugger black underwear
    cause of death pending investigation
    was her father
    heart disease she cried to guilty stranger
    with bandaged head sitting on the lower steps
    in the disconnected man in me
    a whole bottle of Oeil de perdrix
    with carrot salad and chicken hold
    the chicken she said
    and threw up
    in the middle of sex at the funeral
    she wore a hat with a snow-white veil
    that came down to her lips
    and whispered MAYBE from the distance
    as she got into a different car that’s what
    I told myself anyways limping there with a cheap
    new timing belt knee deep
    in the shadow of the lovely church.

  39. Genevieve Fitzgerald says:

    love / anti-love

    Love does not always
    Look familiar
    Or human

    I lovingly take
    My shears to
    The hedge

    Perhaps it’s with love
    You refuse me
    An answer

    But I cannot
    React like
    A hedge

  40. ValerieO says:


    Without question
    It feels right
    A rainbow after thunderstorm
    Love encapsulates
    Immeasurable emotions that bring
    Encourages smiles despite troubles
    In life
    The best gift to another
    It’s constant

  41. Julieann says:

    God’s Love

    Doctor’s prognosis
    A child I would not bear

    Devastation, lots of prayer
    Blessing from above
    A precious gem is mine

    Years pass, more prayers
    A miracle of Biblical proportions
    A true pearl God has bestowed

    A perfect pair, boy and girl,

    Doctor’s wrong
    God’s love never fails

  42. PoM says:

    A love poem draft

    He showed his love by going to the Cross
    But somehow the message was twisted and lost
    It was not about washing away sins of the lost
    He rose to show no matter the cost
    The truly faithful will not be cast off
    To the outer darkness forever lost

    An anti love

    There is blackness and darkness in every heart
    With pride and arrogance it oozes out
    With evil they attempt to cast evil out
    Someday soon they will all find out
    Just how wicked they were without a doubt

  43. ewdupler says:

    I Love You, Son

    My love for you was born before
              You ever saw the light,
    And to this day you can be sure,
              Our bond formed at first sight.

    On one September, sunny day,
              So many years ago,
    You crept into my heart to stay,
              The son I’d come to know.

    And through the years you grew so fast,
              I raised you best I knew.
    You know, my growl, it didn’t last,
              Besides, you made it through.

    You’ve reached the point, you are a man.
              Of you, I am so proud.
    And though you’re leaving I still can,
              Hug you – for I’m allowed

  44. A Love Poem

    I might write a love poem of sorts to either or both of my cats -
    except that so often, in so many ways, I’ve already done that.

    I might write one about chocolate, surely my grandest passion.
    But rhapsodising on food? Scoffing it’s more my fashion.

    The love of books and reading – that might make more sense.
    But the poem would be far too long and the number of books immense.

    What of my passion for poetry? Appropriate subject for verse.
    Poetry’s the love of my life! That says it all, but how terse.

    So I’ll just have to come back to you yet again, my lovely man
    and keeping writing love poems to you as long as ever I can!

    This, then, is a love poem to Andrew, although he’s no longer alive.
    I know that wherever he is, he’s wishing for me to thrive.

    Let’s call his new home by an old name, let’s say he’s in Heaven Above,
    a feisty, funny angel who can read this expression of love.

    I miss you, you silly bugger! Why did you go and get dead?
    I wish you were here beside me, in the marriage bed.

    Many will tell me you are, but it’s hard to cuddle a ghost.
    At my time of life it’s not sex but cuddles I miss the most.

    For cuddles I have the cats, for sensual pleasure chocolate.
    With the reading and writing, of course, I escape or sublimate.

    So I’m doing just fine without you and I almost never cry.
    You don’t have to worry about me…. Love you till I die

    (This is also intended as an anti-love poem, in that it is deliberately not romantic.)

  45. tonijoell says:

    Love Song for Sunrise

    Even in this perpetual darkness
    I remember a long ago sometime
    when I turned my face to the sky and
    the pink-orange fire of dawn
    still came for me.

  46. De Jackson says:

    Tryin’ to Throw Your Arms Around It

    Anyone can slay a dragon…but try waking up every morning
    and loving the world all over again.
    – Brian Andreas

    I hate you.
    – E.E. Cummings

    It’s easy
    to adore the ocean
    and the forest and the gentle
    sifting sand and the subtle
    shifting sway of amber wave.

    Simple, perhaps
    to ignore
    the darkness.

    to look pure
    evil in the face
    and grasp grace
    with all you have
    left, find a place where
    forgiveness can breathe.

    In lieu of grieve
    or stone
    cold groan,
    we stand
    and try our true,
    forever making poems
    in the lap of death.


  47. pmwanken says:

    ~ untitled ~

    is not forgetting;
    rather, it’s moving forward
    in a manner that demonstrates

    P. Wanken

  48. Sally Jadlow says:

    Love Poem

    For nine months
    I carried you,
    fed you,
    prayed for you.

    Now you’re here.
    I touch your tiny fingers,
    kiss your toes,
    stroke your silky hair.

    What a wonder little one,
    a precious gift
    from God’s Almighty hand.


    Sometimes it takes
    a big explosion to remember
    together we’re whole

  50. WayneLMurphy says:

    Before we met I always had a sense that there was something more out there
    I wandered around for years, but I was incomplete until I found you
    Now, everyday is new, a new chance to love you, to live another day by your side

    If we have a disagreement or maybe we don’t see eye to eye, it hurts me inside
    But one thing always remains constant, my unconditional love for you
    I trust you and respect you, my love for you continues to grow with each passing day

    If there are times when I may have done something wrong, or you just feel down
    I want you to always know that I am right here for you to lean on
    I am your man and I will do everything I can to always keep you happy, safe, and warm

    I know in the morning that our problems will be only an after thought of yesterday
    But each and every day I can be thankful for the love that we share
    A love that will last throughout our whole lifetime together, until the day we die

    I love to see the morning sun caress your soft beautiful face, it brightens my every day
    And even on the darkest days I still feel light beacuse of your love
    It is a feeling that I never want to lose, a precious tender moment locked away in time

    So, my love, forgive me if I sometimes forget to tell you how much you mean to me
    It is not done intentionally, for the gift of your love is the greatest gift of all
    My only hope is that you continue to allow me to show you my love forever and more

    Wayne L Murphy 4/23/13

  51. Lindy says:


    More than what you’ve heard,
    what I feel for you in words -
    our love is a verb.

  52. JRSimmang says:

    We watched the struggle,
    we did,
    we did,
    from our silent vantage point
    on that seated hill.

    To date there has never,
    no never,
    not ever,
    been a struggle so clearly mistook.

    They chose sides, they did,
    like we knew they would,
    like we knew they would.
    Perhaps that was their first mistake,
    for no true relationship can be built
    on unspoken rivalry.

    Perhaps, they’d be better friends than enemies,
    for sure,
    for sure,
    but part of me thinks that
    would be a terrible lie.

    Thus it begins.
    He starts.
    Insults lobbed,
    degradations volleyed,
    occasionally, he would get caught in
    her net.
    Eventually, the baseline is just a memory.
    Then, after the tete a tete,
    and they are bruised and sore,
    so very sore,
    15 – 0.
    Fifteen – love.

  53. vxl says:

    The Political Animal

    He pats
    a slow beat
    on canvas so tight
    it could be a drum.
    His brushing fingers
    leaving invisible
    lines in the natural oils
    of her body,
    barely clinging to existence.
    Creation and destruction
    in the valley of her lower back.

  54. Raina Masters says:

    Love is not sweating the little messes

    Finding used measuring cups and utensils
    in the sink when I come home from work
    raises my blood pressure, makes me wary
    of what else I will find in disarray in
    other rooms – the sheets hopelessly
    tangled at the bottom of the bed –
    your workout sneakers in the living room,
    one in front of the tv, the other half
    under the sofa – your razor on the edge
    of the bathroom sink, not rinsed out -
    lights on all over the house, making
    the meter on the outside of the house
    spin faster and faster. I forget about
    these things when I find your Post-it
    note on the refrigerator in big black
    marker letters, a short but sweet message
    - “I love you.”, a crack at my shell.
    I make the bed and turn down the corner,
    use your razor to make my legs extra
    smooth, slip into my flirty apron and
    prop myself onto the cold formica kitchen
    counter just minutes before I know you’ll
    walk through the door, leap into your arms
    and kiss you hard. We’ll ignore the dishes
    and dirty the counter.

  55. Gray Tuesday Blues

    I done all my writing
    the way that I should
    I keep searching for new words
    for something that’s good.

    Ya, my baby sure loves me
    even when I am down.
    He sings in the kitchen
    and acts like a clown.

    Oh, I done all my writing
    on this Tuesday so gray
    and I sing the old blues
    till the end of the day.


  56. RJ Clarken says:

    Effeuiller la Marguerite (The Daisy Oracle)

    “He loves me/he loves me not…” ~from the daisy petal game which originated in France

    Jane pulled a petal; then she sighed.
    “He loves me! I am filled with hope.
    This petal’s what I need to cope.
    Dear Daisy, you shall be my guide.”

    The daisy had nowhere to hide.
    Another petal pulled. A mope:
    “He loves not! I have no hope.
    Jane pulled a petal; then she sighed.

    “Which is it, Daisy? Now we’re tied.
    Is it all done? Will I elope?
    Please, Daisy, do not tell me, ‘Nope.’”
    Jane plucked another petal. Bride!
    And then another; poor Jane sighed.


  57. Rhae says:

    ‘_ _ _ _?’

    has it been so long wishing for
    soft hands
    gentle lips
    delicate words secured in
    passionate visions,

    has it been a long time coming
    remembering walks in the park
    laughter snuggled up in
    movie nights
    dinner in silence, and smiles,

    has it been so long removed
    sisterly embraces
    family gathering with
    card games and dominoes
    moments in memories wrapped in warmth,

    has it been so long dreaming of
    four letters that speak and mean volumes
    that protect all
    and careful to sleep for those we love who must leave
    to re-birth,

    wait, what is this we write of again,


  58. Ashley says:

    So i wrote this for somebody i really care for..but they don’t know. its a very special one ..very close to my heart. I think it comes under category of love…but not limited to Romance. Enjoy :)

    Misunderstanding so vast
    subject to misinterpretation
    its the typical case of
    you’re left aghast
    cz nobody sees the silence
    cacophonous silence of mediation

    you aren’t let to be
    enigmatic charisma
    everyone can only see
    but you wonder why nobody knows
    Thank God.
    the disguise works perfectly
    but its an unwanted dream

    in the sidesteps you exist
    you’re being; too confusing!
    yet they can’t stop
    they’ll continue to fall
    for a trap, that’s an unwanted dream

    they’re blinded by reality
    reality; an illusion
    i used to wonder is that a possibility?
    it exists between you and me
    and now I see
    now I see

    i see every skipped step
    i never miss the little slips
    someone would arrange these pieces
    spread all around; you wish
    but they don’t see
    they don’t see

    goodness is the only reality
    its what we hide
    we hide behind their illusions
    we let them believe
    we choose the easy

    the distance
    is the illusion that must remain
    cz reality is divine
    too divine for an illusionary eye
    for those dramatic minds
    that remain

    i wish for this light
    just as you do
    to outshine the lies
    within this silence
    the silence of an intertwined
    a combined existence

    i know you want to
    deny every bit
    its too good to be true
    its a fairy-tail
    it doesn’ fit the framework
    of morals and the ethics
    who say im JUST a drug

    i’m not your drug
    i’m your medicine.
    tell me im lying
    lie to me that
    you can’t feel the ends
    of that bottomless well of pain
    that rests within your sea
    when you think of me

    I’ll listen
    i’ll smile and respectfully walk away
    but i’ll never believe
    i’ll never believe for your sake
    but i’ll listen and walk away
    because i see within it
    lies a temporary healing

    drug is a reality
    medicines are the dream…

  59. Amy says:

    I will be rocks, under gushing river wild
    I will lie beneath your frantic flow

    I will bear the weight of current’s grace
    entombed in churning frigid waters

    I will watch as koi display their namesake
    flitting in effortless patterns of calico persuasion

    I will not draw a single breath but instead
    bid the twisting chilly stream to fill the hollow

    I will content myself with where I’ve been
    if only to drown in your weightless gravity

    I will be the depth over distance
    a sedentary pebble bound by tidal love

    • PressOn says:

      You loose a kaleidoscope of imagery; really marvelous. The “depth over distance” phrase, though, is the one I keep hearing. Thanks for sharing this.

  60. Jezzie says:

    This is not love, this is lust,
    and tell him I really must.
    But it’s hard to let down a friend
    and it might be better in the end
    to carry on as we are.
    It won’t go far
    but it’s fun while it lasts.
    and deep emotions are past.
    But can I do without him?
    And why do I always doubt him
    when he says he loves me?
    Do I really want to stay free?
    What is love anyway?
    Do I want to feel that way?
    It causes more pain than pleasure,
    I’d rather have fun by the measure.
    I don’t want a romance
    just a partner in dance,
    and candlelit dinners
    are definite winners,
    and the morning after
    I’m filled with laughter.
    Oh, heavens above,
    maybe I am in love.

  61. Jezzie says:

    I’d met my match,
    you were my catch.
    I went for all you sent
    but in the event
    I just couldn’t score,
    you achieved more.
    I reached my arms out wide
    but my shame I could not hide.
    Oh heavens above,
    I lost my game to love!

  62. PowerUnit says:

    I don’t want to do love anymore
    Most of the people I’ve given my heart to have left
    Some the house, some my life, and some permanently
    What’s the point? I ask
    Where’s the reward for all the time I’ve invested?
    Do I want to go through with it all over again?
    I look at all the candidates and think, ugh, too much work
    I have better things to do with my time
    I’m not lonely, not a bit
    I guess I’m in love with life now

  63. burrhead says:


    Practice love
    You want to feel love coming to you
    You know who she is
    So bad that you manipulate
    Puff yourself up
    You need to practice love
    That feeling you had when she said she loved you
    In the dark
    Whispered in your ear with warm sweet breath
    You want it again
    You need to practice love
    Practice bringing peace and joy
    Oh, to be a journeyman
    Instead of a meager apprentice
    What other purpose
    Is there
    Why did you bother to lift your sorry ass carcass out of bed?
    If not to love
    Do not miss an opportunity
    To send out your message
    Of love
    Your friends and their friends and children and parents
    Are dying
    They need your love
    And you worry about your feelings
    You need to give your love
    It is better that way
    Practice love


    I touch her paw
    and bow.
    May I, human, have this dance?

    My wild little dog
    doesn’t know the steps,
    she’s constantly knocking me

    around. I swing left,
    but she’s already twirled across
    in front to trip me.

    She just can’t grasp
    that two bodies (mine and hers)
    can’t occupy the same

    space at the same time,
    even dancing.
    Elementary physics, a human

    construct. How much
    we think we know; how much
    goes dancing

    off beyond our understanding.
    Is this how my dog
    loves me, this more than

    Maybe Loki is obeying laws
    of a different universe.

  65. Domino says:


    Ever the poet,
    ever the gentleman warrior,
    he suffered no fool gladly
    and bested all
    with his sword play
    and rapier wit.

    Yet his one weakness,
    his one soft spot,
    was for the lovely

    Pining ever, loving truly,
    Cyrano tried to impress
    his lovely cousin,
    yet the bounds of family
    kept her from seeing
    his passion true.

    And when she confessed her love
    for another
    he did not kill the oaf,
    though he surely could have done,
    no, he helped the man win
    Cyrano’s only love;
    Roxane’s happiness weighed more
    to him than his.


    Beautiful, and quite an
    yet, she was prey
    to the remarkable good looks
    of Christian de Neuvillette.

    If only he was as smart,
    as dashing,
    as brave,
    as witty,
    as her beloved cousin.

    And when he seemed to be
    what she had always wanted
    in a man,
    she did not question
    her good fortune,
    she only embraced
    what was offered,
    and was glad.

    Yet long years later,
    still grieving his loss, loving
    a dead man,
    comforted by her
    she discovers, too late,
    that the man she truly loved
    was before her
    all along.

    Cyrano dies,
    believing himself truly alone,
    yet rejecting anything
    that would compromise his
    he dies, his honor

    Diana Terrill Clark

  66. dextrousdigits says:

    Standing in the shower,
    feeling the caressing warm rain
    the first smell of coffee brewing
    the luscious dripping taste of a peach
    cut up for cereal.
    birds singing just for me
    a smiling passer by
    Everything seems more vibrant
    since I met you.

  67. When We’re In Love with To-Do Lists

    Sometimes we get so busy
    doing things for the ones we love.
    We work, serve, sacrifice.

    We feel very loving,
    but eventually we look around
    and notice we’re alone.

    Loving nobody.
    Nobody loving us.
    Loving is no longer fun.

    Let’s learn to laugh, play, talk together.
    Let’s make sure we do things with each other,
    not just for each other.

  68. BiblioGypsy says:

    An attempt at triolet (it doesn’t follow this prompt, but the one from the NaPoWriMo site).

    My thoughts are racing here and there;
    I could not focus anyway.
    At times it seems I cannot bear -
    My thoughts are (racing here and there)
    Disjointed – being caught in snare.
    Staunch will my mind will not obey;
    My thoughts are racing here and there-
    I could not focus anyway.


  69. PressOn says:

    Romance is fine, but
    one ought to remember that,
    in the game of love,
    sex is merely a contest:
    the one who moans the most, wins.

  70. happys says:

    ~True Love~

    One cold summer night
    Underneath the moon shining bright
    You show up in my life to my delight
    So quite unexpectedly right

    Fate united us together
    On countless heartfelt laughter
    Our friendship grew even stronger
    Magical journey from friends to lovers

    Pure love makes our hearts beat faster
    Turning our eyes to shine much brighter
    Making our steps wonderfully lighter
    Indescribable happiness when we’re together

    Unfathomable feelings we have for each other
    We always bring out the best in one another
    Unwavering love eternally ever after
    A promise of true love forever and ever

  71. Nancy Posey says:

    I’m going to have to adopt some curmudgeonly persona to write an anti-love poem, Robert!

    Love math

    Not good at math, I knew
    nonetheless that love
    never has to be divided,
    not real love. Pirandello
    knew it on that train;
    I know it now. Perhaps
    it’s magic, how the more
    I need to love, the more
    I love, one child or three,
    one friend or many. Only
    with you do I refuse
    to test the equation.
    Undivided, unshared,
    rising like yeasty bread,
    abundant as bunnies
    in our yard–such silly similes–
    my love without limits
    I lavish on you, only you.

  72. alana sherman says:

    1. A love poem

    Love Song

    I would wait for you forever
    You make fire when you whisper
    Today I am lost in desire

    I would wait for you forever.
    Now, everything’s delightful, new
    I know heaven brilliant, the stars

    You make fire when you whisper
    I would wait for you forever

    2. Anti-Love Poem
    (a contradiction)

    You Left In November

    All winter long
    I sang no song
    of love

    The skies were dark
    I had no spark
    for love

    When clouds turned gray
    I stayed away
    from love

    By love we’re caught
    though it is fraught
    with agony and pain:

    I played the fool—
    You were too cool
    to love.

    So here I sit in April rain
    and swear I won’t be conned again
    by love.


  73. Nancy Posey says:

    Love Poem

    You’d think I’d have run out of words
    by now, spending them freely as I do,
    a prodigal daughter, wasting talk
    on every new acquaintance,
    surprised sometimes when others
    recall my words long after
    I’ve forgotten them myself.

    You’d think I’d achieve expert
    status at crafting words of love,
    though I don’t believe that old lie,
    practice makes perfect. A perfect
    rose, how cliché; a perfect kiss,
    perhaps, but how can a love poem
    I write for you today begin to say
    what I’ll feel tomorrow? I read
    my old love letters, scraps of poems
    tucked inside cards you read
    then laid aside, and wonder
    who was I then, though I know
    at the time I meant every word.

  74. Glory says:

    yesterday’s lover
    here still in my head where dreams
    unfulfilled lie like
    bright flowers of many hues
    budded before they open.

  75. Never2L8 says:

    Lesson on Love

    You say you’ll love me unconditionally?
    I already have a dog.
    That you’ll wrap your love around me?
    Fleece blanket.
    That you’ll give me the sun and moon?
    Where would I store them?
    That you can’t live without me?
    You have till now and will.
    Your face falls, smile fails, a tear gleams in your eye,
    I’ve hurt you – I’m sorry, but it just isn’t wise… for me.
    I watch you walking slump shouldered to the car
    a pretty girl passes and smiles
    your head whips round and you say, excuse me…
    Class dismissed.

  76. BiblioGypsy says:

    I hate to be in love.
    It is such an awful thing
    to be so beautiful and so desired.
    Captures the heart to wring
    until it has expired.
    Love is naught but a soul-eater,
    ravishing until all is ravaged.
    Mistress of deceit, Queen Maltreater,
    she is not to be engaged.
    Causing victims to feel indomitable,
    self-preserving caution thrown to wind.
    Once safe in love, hapless and comfortable,
    she will that happiness rescind.
    In one way, or perhaps another, time will come
    when that love shall be gone.
    There will be pain before it turns numb,
    For there’s no liaison with that greatest con.
    I hate to be in love.


  77. PressOn says:


    Sometimes I think that love ought to be
    something akin to the sky and the sea.
    Each other’s mirror forever they are;
    each drop of water bound to each star.
    They mingle their colors as each day unfolds,
    sharing reds and purples and greys and golds.
    They nurture the other when each shows pain
    from oil-laden waves or acid-stained rain;
    nursing the other as best they may
    with soul-salving stars and sense-soothing spray.
    Parted in space, their domains unfurl
    to marry at last at the rim of the world.
    May this kind of love, so firm at the core,
    be always the love that my heart hungers for:
    a love ever open, like a caring eye;
    a love like that of the sea and the sky.

  78. Saying I love you

    I only tease the ones I love, I say,
    but she just scowls  at me, her eyes scrunched up
    like discarded telegrams.  How about
    you say something nice instead, she asks me.
    If you do that again, I’m moving out.
    The crossing guard says I can stay with him.
    He thinks I’m sexy.  I’ll have a baby
    and I’ll rob a bank, all because of you.
    She kisses my cheek: You are getting fat.

  79. priyajane says:

    There is nothing left to say
    And yet, a mumbling spray
    Sometimes a squirt of a dull, sour paste
    Sometimes a whiff of golden, sweet gaze

    The scabs have dried, and sprouted blooms
    But now and then, they change costumes
    Neither one, a ‘nom de plume’

    Nothing left to say
    And yet— the fragrance lingers on —

  80. Beth Rodgers says:


    A notion of what is complete
    Yet incomplete
    Ready to be melded
    Yet completely formed.

    It is time well spent
    Yet hesitation at its finest.

    Normalcy shifting
    Complacent immediacy
    Invigorating instincts
    Fine-tuned realities.

    Love is no more than a barrage
    Of inadequacies and definitely-enoughs
    Wariness and all-out sincerity.

    It is a sure-fire, no-holds-barred
    Knock-out, drag-out affair
    That shouldn’t be missed for the world.

  81. Earl Parsons says:

    (A Haiku String (if there is such a thing))

    Love is elusive
    It likes to hide in plain sight
    Keep your eyes open

    Love is in the air
    Breathe it in and hold your breath
    Love suffocation

    Love can heal all wounds
    It’s miracle medicine
    With no side effects

    Love is just a dream
    From which some will never wake
    They’re the lucky ones

    Love is all you need
    Without it life is empty
    All you need is love

  82. Earl Parsons says:


    It pounds steadily
    Second after second
    Minute after minute
    Hour after hour
    Day after day
    And year after year

    It pounds rhythmically
    Setting the beat
    Commanding the pace
    Changing with conditions
    Pumping a cadence
    The cadence of life

    Yet it searches
    For something to fill
    Its empty void
    Something to satisfy
    Its thirst for love
    Constantly searching

    And so it pounds
    All the while
    Searching for love

  83. Rachel Blake says:


    Love is chocolate
    creamy and sweet.
    Love is the south wind
    sweeps you off your feet.
    Love is the kitten’s purr
    safe and so content.
    Love is a Wurlitzer
    round and round you’re sent.

    Love is a shooting star
    blistering then gone.
    Love is a babe new born
    free to venture far.
    Love is enduring, life worn.
    Love is abstract yet oh so familiar.

  84. PressOn says:


    With little white lies, feigned surprise,
    she flies
    through flocks of men; her frenzied pace
    through space
    absolves her from heartbreaking crime
    and time.
    She seems to me to be sublime:
    a creature of villainous mien
    and yet a beauty, yet a queen,
    she flies through space and time.

  85. mschied says:

    What is love?

    Is it a glimmer of awareness
    before the glimpsing?
    Is it being noticed like no one
    has ever noticed you
    Is it a crack in the concrete barrier
    surrounding the pumping organ
    that is supposed to keep you alive
    but seems dead inside?
    Is it a stagnating cesspool
    of lost hopes and dreams
    that suddenly comes gurgling
    to life like a possessed fountain?
    Is it the melding of minds so strong
    not even a Vulcan
    can break them apart?

    Whatever it is, I wish it would show up soon.


  86. Ann Graham Price says:

    “’Twas Beast Killed the Beauty”

    Last night she dreamed she was in love with King Kong.
    A big hulking brute of a beast he was,
    Who petted and scorned her by turns.
    He built her a shelter of sorts in the air,
    Perched high on his haunches where no one could reach her.
    He made it of sticks and mud and promises,
    The ephemeral flora of the forest.
    And from the outside
    And from the ground
    And from a distance
    It looked solid enough.

    Inside was all she needed:
    A bed, a mop, a stove,
    And one tiny window to let some outside light filter in,
    But none of hers out.
    And although he often squeezed her too tight,
    And, truth be told, it did scare her some
    When he pounded his chest or threw things,
    She was


    No, really.

    ‘Till one day he lowered his great hairy hindquarters
    To reach for some low-lying fruit,
    Where, finding her feet on solid earth,
    She tremblingly crept toward the palm-shaded window
    And leaning her elbows upon the sill,
    Stood looking and looking out.

  87. Cin5456 says:

    Do it! Go ahead and tell him!
    Watch this, he’s going to
    laugh in her face.

    Joey? I think I’m in love with you.
    Penny? I’ve loved you since sixth grade!

    What? How does she rate love
    when I can’t get a date?
    I think it’s called being genuine.
    Love needs genuine heart to grow.

  88. PressOn says:


    your presence
    shows the essence
    that all that love could be:
    a caring heart; a willing hand;
    an ego small; a spirit grand;
    a true humility
    that makes your face
    a hymn to grace
    that even blind can see.

  89. Cin5456 says:

    Missed, wandering alone wishing
    such a wonder existed. Once,
    just once, I thought the impossible
    had come to live in me. Wrong,
    so wrong that I missed the meaning
    in an overture of friendship that I
    mistook for love.

  90. JRSimmang says:

    Love that which
    cannot be loved. In
    this is truth.

  91. PressOn says:


    Love is unfair: it acts staccato
    at times it ought to act legato
    but, even so, it has one motto:
    love is life, ostinato.

  92. Sorry, that ain’t my game!

    I love my mamma
    I sure love my pa
    Do I love my son?
    Does a boy love pie?
    Sure as you’re born,
    I love my Cats. I love my
    independence and
    the peace and quiet.
    But if you are looking
    for a romance with a
    bank balance then I’m
    afraid to say that
    I ain’t in the “Iain Honey”
    business anymore.


  93. Dear Moosehead,
    Contrary to popular opinion I
    do actually love yer sis, yeah! and even
    yer ma. I even love you, ya big lummox!
    I love this city – I have doubts about some
    of the others although I’ve given my heart
    to Boston (except for Fenway!) I kinda love
    my cousin Jimmy the Greek, although Atlanta
    can still kiss my fat Irish butt! I love the Yankees
    more than I love my cab. I really love my cab!
    I love the feeling when the ball goes long and
    you’re watching and watching and they’re running
    and running and it’s in the stands! Home Run!
    Bases cleared! Oh and brother, do I love a double
    play! I hate getting our caps handed to us by a
    bunch o’ fish that should be cleaned and grilled.
    I’ve got a JFK at 5, meet me at the bar at 6:30.
    See if we can gut us some Rays!

    Yours full of love for my fellow man – well most of them,

    Ringo the Howler

  94. RobHalpin says:

    Love Is Sneaky

    Love is a sneaky bastard.
    He creeps in while you aren’t looking
    bops you over the head
    and throws chains around your heart.
    All you can do is hope
    he’s as successful on your beloved.

  95. Morning poets,

    Let’s feel the love! Or not…

  96. “untitled for a reason”

    is rarely expressed
    in words
    I catch you smiling
    as I’m showing
    our daughter
    how to do those things
    that drive you crazy
    (like how to ruin
    a perfectly good pair of shoes
    dragging feet
    to stop a bicycle)
    no one needs
    to say

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