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2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 7

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, write a sevenling poem. Never heard of a sevenling poem? Well, it’s a 7-line poem (chosen because today is the 7th day of the challenge) that features two tercets and a one-liner in the final (third) stanza. My poem below illustrates the form. The first two stanzas should have an element of three in them that can either play off each directly, work as juxtaposition, or have no connection whatsoever. The final line should work as either a punchline, weird twist, or punctuation mark.

Here’s my attempt at a sevenling poem:


she wanted most of all–
two hands, a good heart,
lips with soft words.

she found instead
two cats, an empty bed,
slips of former love letters.

her records always work.


Workshop Your Poetry!

Writing poetry is exciting, but the hard work of poeming is working through the revision process. The best way to work through this process is to workshop the poems with other poets, and that can be done with the Writer’s Digest 6-week course, Advanced Poetry Writing.


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.

399 Responses to 2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 7


    Angle brackets, binomials of odd
    species; capitalization labels, boldface
    colons: how he spends his days.

    After hours, she sneaks into his books,
    riffling pages with young fingers
    (also called curiosity), angel wings.

    She’s outgrown every pair of shoes.

  2. mrs.mjbauer says:

    Fouled Out!
    I played basketball
    Up and down the hall
    Bouncing off the wall
    My treasured orange sphere
    Hit my mother’s chandelier
    Now I’m not welcome here
    I’m fouled out!

  3. Mel Lewis says:


    In the yard stood an ash tree one hundred feet tall
    looking down on two pines by the opposite wall.
    They worshipped his size. They were both very small.

    Then one day when great winds joined beetles and rot,
    the ash struggled to stand but, sadly, could not,
    and he fell to the feet of the pine trees, distraught

    for he’s just four feet tall now his side is his top.

  4. Sharon says:


    Three more days
    to the moment of truth
    she waited without words

    Fearless in her meditation
    frantic when she stopped
    at peace in silence.

    She would wear the yellow dress

  5. bookworm0341 says:

    “Angel on my shoulder, as I would have taken off”

    Birds tweet as light crystalline
    rushes in through venetian cracks
    faster than I can open them

    It will be so warn outside today
    a great day to take a walk,
    a ride, a hike… do anything

    but darn! I have to work

  6. Nadienne says:

    Morning Thunderstorm

    Light from a nearby lightning strike
    hurls itself against our bedroom blinds.
    One . . . two . . . three, cra-ack! Boooom!

    The storm pounding overhead,
    you wrap around me like a magic shield.
    You, thunder, and me:

    The right ingredients for making movies.

  7. seingraham says:

    CRAZY NOT – a sevenling

    She wore an overcoat made of rain
    Slept in nightgowns woven from constellations
    And spent every coffee break with a homeless woman

    By her front door she kept a jar filled with promises
    And her ring-tone was the sound of a loon’s call
    Most nights she played the xylophone for hours

    In encyclopaedias, beside the word eccentric, her picture could be found.

  8. seingraham says:

    CURIOSITIES – a sevenling

    She was hot chocolate,
    white lilacs in winter,
    and a pink crescent moon

    He was fine Italian leather
    hot air balloon rides
    and rescuing miniature dogs

    It was of paramount importance that the girl band in Russia be released.


    Boarded-up ranch-house, splintered
    saddle-tree, wheel from a Conastoga
    wagon. Enlarged hopes broke.

    The barn’s inhabited now by beetles,
    spiderlings, and termites; its big door
    sagging on rebar and rusty hinges.

    The red-roan sun keeps moving west.


    The elders – jays, woodpeckers,
    ravens – accuse the morning.
    It’s April. Winter should be over.

    Empty out the trash, wash
    the dregs from the cup, rinse
    it with chillest well-water.

    Redemption of wet-green leaves.

  11. Jezzie says:

    Sevenling (Seven April Days)

    Last week we were deep in snow,
    wrapped in mufflers out we’d go,
    fighting biting winds that blow.

    This week out has come the sun,
    gardening has all been done
    and we’ve all had lots of fun.

    Seven April days or so.

  12. Anya Padyam says:


    It was a joy to behold,
    The new arrival to the fold,
    My heart felt like it’d explode.

    Life to change forever,
    In ways imagined never,
    With love, to devour.

    He came today.

  13. Sevenling

    Her face is a display case
    of curio smiles and other
    porcelain knick-knacks.

    Behind the peerless glass
    is a stationary parade
    of hand-painted trinkets.

    Her inscription reads do not touch.

  14. Margot Suydam says:

    Weatther or not

    Cold bites my ears
    Cheeks freeze to ice
    The wind is chafing

    Sweat wets my cheeks
    Ears burn red in heat
    The sun is blazing

    Which way would you go?

  15. two hearts colliding,
    two lives united, forever
    following same path

    two lives united,
    two souls as one forever…
    new life emerging

    my beautiful niece, the light on my sister’s path

  16. lionmother says:

    This is my first attempt at a “sevenling” so be gentle.:)


    Days start fresh
    like laundered sheets
    clean and open

    and get wrinkled
    as the hours progress
    gradually turning dank

    and odorous from events

  17. julie e. says:

    SEVENLING (the smooth surface)

    the smooth surface slowly breaks
    apart and a jagged line appears
    and splits a crevice

    slowly slowly, the crack widens
    to receive the now running
    external ooze

    two rounded cake sides should not be placed together.

  18. Glory says:


    he smiles at her –
    eyes alight with amusement
    heart beating fast.

    she turns away –
    deep furrowed forehead
    shoulders hunched,

    not amused.

  19. foodpoet says:

    read in the sun
    do yoga

    words burn
    muscles ache
    mind unfocused

    and i still cannot cope

  20. tunesmiff says:


    I stood there,
    Watching you,
    Take his hand.

    Wedding dress;
    Golden bands.

    Mom touched my arm – she understands.

  21. Unexpected Results
    I was looking for
    harmless fun, brain teasers,
    some sweet nostalgia.

    But I found
    a warm heart, a kindred spirit,
    and a brand new friend.

    A different kind of music!

  22. Yolee says:

    Maid of Honor

    My fingers, hunger
    and mind yearn to peel
    a lemon cupcake’s foil.

    The apple, orange and banana
    on the edge of my desk
    cannot turn away.

    O but my new eggplant dress likes to murmur.

  23. mlcastejon says:


    Seven deadly sins
    Seven days a week
    Seven years old my niece
    Seven notes to make music
    Seven were the seven dwarfs
    Seven plagues, not eight, not four
    Seven lines today for my little poem.

  24. Tracy Davidson says:

    The Morning After

    she wakes to find
    a strange bed, a strange man
    and a set of handcuffs

    she remembers
    the double vodkas, the line of coke
    and a questionable kebab

    her husband standing at the window

  25. drwasy says:


    For months she closeted herself from cold
    and mourned: the vista of never-ending white,
    shrouded tree limbs carving the gray horizon.

    When the snow retreated, she walked the yard
    seeking signs: buds puffed red, shreds of weeds
    made into nests, the cracked earth.

    The asparagus are late.

  26. The Wild Couches of Spring

    One by one, they escape–couches, sofas, davenports.
    They sag by the curb, breathing deep the fresh air of front yards
    nonchalantly, as if we might not notice, as if this were their native habitat.

    Another sign of spring, shy couches familiar as robins, rain, forsythia.
    But one faded floral holds a sign in her lap declaring herself,
    brazen as as a teenager with a slogan on her t-shirt:

    I Am Free.

  27. vickiejohnstone says:

    Sevenling – WAITING

    She hovers on the water’s edge
    Bare feet digging into softest sand
    Awaiting the horizon’s rise

    Its misted line feels so comforting
    A fleeting glance of eternity
    Endless in its stark burn of colour

    Dawn breaks as she enters the waves

  28. LouiseBilborough says:

    He watched her embroider
    Weaving threads of red
    And blue and green

    She thimbled her thumb
    But stabbed two fingers
    Blood trickling bright

    Beauty always seems one-sided

  29. julie e. says:

    Okay, small rewrite:


    The first in line to cheer you on
    who helps you find your courage
    the first in line to help you to be strong

    the one you ask to help you see
    what step is next to take
    the one who helps you know how to be brave

    the one who’s brave for everyone but her.

  30. Karen Jane says:


    I like to brush up on humans–
    Rub their elbows in the hall,
    Bat my lashes, scratch their backs.

    I review animal law
    Crouched with open palm stretch,
    Wide open eyes, no fear of attack.

    I’ve yet to study a creature with a thing to lack.

  31. julie e. says:

    Okay, my tiny offering. For some reason this was more difficult than i thought it would be!

    THE ONE.

    The first in line to cheer you on
    that helps you find your courage
    the first in line to help you to be strong

    the one you ask to help you see
    what step is next to take
    the one that helps you know how to be brave

    the first, the one, for everyone but her.

  32. Janet Rice Carnahan says:

    A Walk through Time – Sevenling

    As a child, he held most sacred,
    Blazing hot sun, shimmering stars on a quiet night,
    Sitting with his hands on the healthy green grass!

    He ate fresh watermelon in the heat,
    Tasted red apples, watching the night sky,
    Snacked on peanuts and raisins, on the grass, contemplating life!

    Sleepwalking through time, he wandered the Mohave Desert as a mystic . . . still quite star struck!

  33. cam45237 says:

    For Lack of a Poem

    Alas! I am unwritten!
    Could be stress. Or lack of sleep.
    Or insufficient inspiration.

    And what’s this form I have to fit in?
    Square holes? Round pegs?
    There’s too perspiration…

    I guess that I will NOT be a creation

  34. Dini says:

    Sevenling (Groping his way)

    Groping his way through the blackness,
    His sightless eyes longing for sunlight,
    Despair renders him blind to love and hope.

    Then the Son himself spits, makes mud pies,
    Tells the blind beggar to wash in the pool of Siloam,
    Cleanses and restores a formerly muddied life.

    But Pharisees complain that some sinner has muddied the Sabbath!

  35. P.A. Beyer says:

    Sevenling (Engage!)

    The personal ad was posted on Monday
    “Seeking sci fi fan to share the future – must love
    Twilight Zone, Outer Limits and Star Trek!”

    The envelope arrived on Friday
    postage paid far more than it cost – stamped
    with a door, an oscilloscope and William Shatner

    Correction posted on Saturday: “Must love Twilight Zone, Outer Limits and Picard!”

  36. Domino says:


    See that first tentative green spear
    poking determinedly from the earth
    and then two more snowdrop leaves.

    Followed by crocuses, white and gold
    and hellebore in all its colors,
    and creamy multi-petaled camellia.

    Soon the wild acres are covered with Spring.

    Diana Terrill Clark

  37. deringer1 says:

    one mouse sang tenor and one sang bass
    one played piano with a smiling face.
    they wanted the butcher’s wife to hear

    but she ran screaming out in fear.
    oh, can’t you see that horrid scene
    as three little creatures lost their tails

    but they applied for disability and moved next door.

  38. WayneLMurphy says:


    They were given one night
    to lay down and die
    or stand up and fight

    Some gave more than others
    some gave all they had
    they fought like brothers

    Freedom was won that night

    Wayne Murphy 4/7/13

  39. Rora Nyx says:

    Grocery Shopping Sucks

    Oh what a terrible chore
    Shopping the grocery store
    Someone just sneezed on my cart.

    The aisles are such a bore
    Can’t find what I’m looking for
    Pasta sauce just blew apart.

    I’ll just eat cereal this week.

  40. Bruce Niedt says:

    Once again Robert’s prompt and Elizabeth Bodien’s (NaPoWriMo) fit together pretty well. I know another poet here already mentioned her prompt but I’ll repeat it here: Write a poem in which each line is a declarative sentence, except the last which is a question.

    Note to S.W.

    Sweetheart, I’m not bashful.
    I’m dopey enough to tell you how I feel.
    I don’t need a doc to tell me I’m lovesick.

    I’m grumpy when you’re not around.
    I’m sleepy from staying up all night thinking about you.
    I’d buy you flowers, even though they make me sneezy.

    Aren’t you happy that my love for you dwarfs all the rest?

  41. a love for boats,
    the fascination of the open sea,
    the longing for adventure.

    prone to seasickness,
    lack of swimming abilities,
    fear of the water in general.

    …a sailor with windless sails.

  42. donnellyk says:

    Dirty Laundry

    I’m thinking I should just be honest,
    I’ve had trouble with you from the start.
    I can’t imagine how we’ve lasted this long,

    Can’t imagine us ever apart.
    If you’d just stop signing my paychecks,
    I could get up and move on with my life.

    To resign I’d be free from your mockery, and that may be decidedly smart.

  43. carinda says:


    there are few things that i believe in
    you, our son, the cats
    perhaps myself

    i used to believe in so little
    in blood and razor blades
    in suicide as a solution

    now i believe in life

  44. Wow! I love your attempt, Robert. It talks about me. Hehe.

  45. THEGingerSass says:


    Emerald flats and sneakers
    walk in rhythm, side by side
    down a darkened evening street

    A stranger lurks behind them.
    Moonlight shines. “Are you okay?”
    Two hands join; qualms melt away.

    “I’ve never been better.” Bliss.

  46. Beth Rodgers says:

    he was modest
    a brave and true soldier
    eager to make a name.

    working hard
    served as a catalyst for hope
    for honor – laboring for love.

    he embodied an instinctual prowess.

  47. catlover says:

    I lay my body down
    Belly up
    My hand in petting position

    She lays on my lap
    Her head resting
    On long arms of fur

    This is my cat and me

  48. kimmbr says:

    If life had continued as dreamed,
    A big brother and twin girls
    Would be getting underfoot now.

    Instead, two fibroids and a cyst
    Were delivered and the uterus,
    Useless, is now gone.

    And yet, the clock still ticks.


    Pitter patter

    brabbled thoughts all scattered

    Whether they’ll scurry back nobody knows?

    More pitter, more patter

    Brambly thoughts all like batter

    When cooked and gathered

    They emerge to strike a pose.

  50. carolecole66 says:


    I go to the door, but he will not scare, robber-face, thief.
    He steps away from the food we put out for strays but reaches
    back for a last bit of kibble, holding it in his near-human hands.

    He retreats down the steps, peeks through the rails
    to see if I’m gone. I can’t help it. I turn away, leave him
    to finish. Fastidious, he washes his hands in the water bowl

    and saunters off into the dark.


    The earth has been waiting all this time
    under transcontinental contrails – three
    flyways intersect a new zoning ordinance.

    Thunder. Last night I dreamed of houses
    three-abreast like broken mountains. Listen
    for this spring in the silence of gardens.

    If only there were water enough for us all.

  52. BDP says:

    “Sevenling (Cheerily)”

    “Cheerily, cheeriup, cheerio,”
    rousing our babyhood rhyming songs,
    whistling your musical piccolo

    happily with a hop on our lawn,
    making us feel as if young again
    breezily growing up on the go,

    favorite red-breasted Robin. Yo!

    B Peters

  53. Genevieve Fitzgerald says:

    Orion (a sevenling poem)

    Rising above my roof
    Three stars for a belt
    Hunter in the heavens

    Cold as a blade
    Darkly brilliant
    Striding silent

    Every night retold

  54. maggzee says:


    Checks and balances
    Well reasoned policy, compromise

    Profound sorrow
    Strong will
    Sense, at long last

    Are the only things that will take the gun from his hand


    Consider the Miwok grinding their acorns
    on this three-holed rock under the canopy
    of oaks. Women gossiping over hunger

    for the bitter meal. Three crows remember
    feet trudging up the foothills, making grass-
    trails in dew; grinding seed-teeth of trees.

    Consider them drowned in spring rain.

  56. Sally Jadlow says:

    A Sevenling Poem

    One day melts into two
    until a month,
    then a year is gone.

    One generation
    produces another,
    then a third,

    Until the landscape is forested.

  57. omavi says:

    The Final Answer

    Words are the enigma
    The paradox of joy and pain
    Anchoring a reality strained

    Language of the wind
    Fluid as time and static
    Constant of stars in the sky

    This is why I write

  58. Dan Collins says:

    om mani padme hung

    A conversation with him was like the mirror 

    hidden deep inside a prism; after a long time 

    amid endless variations, suddenly you see it. 

    His older brother stood: “Once I got a picture 

    from Sri Lanka. It was Pete with a shaved head,
    a big smile and a mongoose on his lap.”

    I never saw the picture, but that is how I will remember him. 

  59. The following poem derives from Robert Lee Brewer’s “Poetic Asides” prompt for a sevenling poem on day seven combined with the NaPoWriMo prompt for “a poem in which each line except the last takes the form of a single, declarative sentence. Then, the final line should take the form of a question. With any luck, this will result in poems that have a sort of driving, reportorial tone, but with a powerful rhetorical finish.”

    Chicago Tribune, 7 April 2013:
    (a sevenling poem)

    Priest cases show abuse issues persist.
    Afghan attacks kill six Americans.
    37 states vying for drone work.

    Misplaced trust hits home.
    S. Korea yawns as North huffs, puffs.
    Payday loans can turn into debt traps

    Money, war, mistrust – is anything new under the sun?

  60. slip sliding through
    memories of childhood
    caring-less and living more

    these moments of reflection
    take years off my face and add
    a smile that is not easily displaced

    he revealed from his perch on the bench beside me


  61. DanielAri says:

    Sevenling (Writing practice)

    All at once, all at once a frustration downpour breaks
    over my daughter, her pencil, and her homework dittos.
    She’s stuck three sentences into the farmer’s story

    hating dittos, her teacher who assigns them lovelessly,
    and her school. Then all at once, all at once she’s finishing
    writing the story under a clear afternoon.

    “The groundhog should have the last word.”

  62. Sara McNulty says:

    Fashion Statements

    This skirt is clearly out of fashion;
    puce sweater, with skin tone ashen?
    Each pair of shoes, fit for trashin’.

    Who dreamed up this sadistic diet,
    of weighing and watching; she agreed to try it.
    She wants to bread the salad and fry it.

    Now, she is an RN, white uniform, matching rubber-soled shoes.

    Poetic Asides
    April Challenge – Day 7
    Write a Sevenling

  63. De Jackson says:

    A seventh Sevenling. (Say that seven times, fast.) ;)

    Sevenling (Slinging Seven)

    Slinging seven
    sacks of sorrow, she
    saddles sun, moon, stars.

    She is a whisp
    -ered warrior of
    wisdom, wind, and wings.

    When she flies, the whole world sings.


  64. ely the eel says:

    Feeding Time

    There are four
    bird feeders in our yard,
    two seed, two humming.

    There are many
    types of customers for our largesse,
    small, medium and large.

    There is one very observant hawk.

  65. SidraQ says:

    Her garden held the bones
    of two cats, one rat
    all beloved pets.

    Her bedroom held the scent
    of lovers, hollow dreams, three
    failed attempts at her own death.

    Today she would clean house, weed the garden, breath.


    This wasteland that is three gardens: ours,
    the former owners, and the rats. Hunger
    the song of dark birds homeward bound.

    At my back as I wield my rake, main-road
    traffic, wheels spinning clockwise, and
    someone on three tires trying to fix a flat.

    Dirt under nails, I await the expected guest.

  67. tonijoell says:

    The Final Straw

    After seven years, it wasn’t the dirty dishes
    in the sink, the endless fart jokes or
    the lingering of another woman’s perfume.

    It was the audacity it took
    for him to bring her mother flowers
    at brunch for no reason at all.

    Really? She was used to him being a jackass…

  68. Carl says:

    Seven Minutes of Healing

    Soft colors and faces warm the room,
    and plunked, I’m in a corner, swamped 
    by sympathetic but foreign personalities.

    Linda held the room to a low energy,
    allowing our insides to come outside,
    making our hot souls melt the evils.

    I cried, and I wasted gobs of Kleenex.

  69. LCaramanna says:

    Naomi’s pink rubber rain boots
    Chased raindrops around the backyard
    Fingers in the palm of Daddy’s hand.

    Wind tossed Naomi’s sweet voice to the treetops
    Where gray clouds heard the melody
    Scuttled away across the sky.

    Naomi’s pink rubber rain boots glistened in the sun.


    Soil begs seven-branching tools. Harrow,
    spade, trowel. Dirt smiles up at me with
    rotten teeth. Impatient jewels. Hurry up,

    it’s Spring. Two earthworms (or two halves
    that were whole) and under withered roots,
    a burnished lizard drowned in sun. Hurry?

    The old ewes lie ruminating in the shade.

  71. EbenAt says:


    If you’d told me that,
    at fifty three,
    I’d start and end my day washing dishes…

    I have no English,
    But I will work hard,
    If you’ll just let me.

    Ne’er the twain shall meet.

  72. Rehearsal

    He chose the soprano instead
    of anyone else, even the mezzo—
    the blonde—or the mellow alto.

    I fought back and picked tenor
    over baritone, irritatingly grating,
    or bass, like rumbling thunder.

    Thus ended auditions for solos.

  73. JRSimmang says:

    In the past two decades of setting foot through the
    giant double doors, the fluorescently illuminated halls,
    and the office of the district attorney

    he never once thought about turning in his pistol
    his perfectly polished tenure badge,
    and his ever-deepening pride of protecting the innocent.

    But he couldn’t watch another guilty man walk free.

  74. IrisD says:

    Whispers of darkness
    Shards of light
    Penetrate night’s depth

    Darkness that permeates
    Night after long night
    Only slivers of light here

    Clinical depression haunts
    (written for a friend )

  75. keithdozier says:

    You contribute to this earth-
    Notes, lines or bars
    In the symphony that is..

    No matter how long,
    Or how goes your song–
    We all are instruments.

    We want at least one to hear us, right ?

  76. Misky says:


    Auntie Bess from Boston set the table
    With knife and spoon placed right
    Because she said that’s what’s right.

    But Auntie Lynn from London set
    The knife and spoon and fork to right
    Because that’s what’s right she said.

    But neither of them could eat a piece
    Unless they wore their teeth.

  77. “sevenling”

    The painting captures Autumn
    envy—blizzard, white, and
    ice storm angry,

    brush a touch
    of burnt sienna, amber-sky,
    and azure driftings.

    A winter frieze in frozen color.

  78. Alpha1 says:

    Family Squabble

    Though livin his life
    for the wife, two kids
    and the girl next door

    she could not sit quietly by
    and watch her neighbor, their children
    and a twenty foot yacht

    sail off on a cruise without her

  79. Amy says:

    The hound begins
    a yowling verse
    the pair of labs join in

    Scolding acts as
    shrewd percussion
    adding tempo to the din

    The 6th Street Canine Concerto

  80. Arash says:

    A Poet Needs…

    by Arash

    A poet needs to here be,
    to have passion, heaps, deep as sea,
    hopes and wishes too, and be free.

    Or could be appearances only: a goatee
    and that serious poet look (nothing funny),
    but most important is to be able to write…so.

    Or maybe not, what the hell do I know?


    Look back for insight
    Glean from experience
    Wisdom inspired light

    Look forward for hope
    Opportunity thrives
    When viewed through widened scope

    Let go your past to find your future

  82. Larry says:

    They came to hear an Angel sing.
    They came to see her dance.
    They came to see her glory.

    They saw an Angels fall from grace.
    They got to see her crash.
    They only saw her shadows.

    She’s only an Earthly Angel!

  83. Amy says:

    It’s nothing personal, just business.
    Doling out complimentary offenses
    that wound my pride, poise, and peace.

    No one goes door-to-door anymore;
    Big suits behind big desks in big lobbies
    laugh as they swat at tiny flies.

    Scratching backs is a thing of the past

  84. Marie Elena says:

    De Miller Jackson is rockin’ this form BIG TIME!

  85. Marie Elena says:

    Grocery store
    Roller coaster
    Movie theatre

    Clock ticking
    Legs aching
    Long sigh

    They say people travel in herds.

  86. Linda Voit says:

    Late 1970

    I remember thinking
    what if she couldn’t find the broom
    to knock three times on the ceiling

    and while she was searching, accidently
    hit the pipes twice with her elbow
    so he’d have one very wrong impression upstairs.

    Maybe he just should have knocked three times. . . on her door.

  87. identity says:

    Bills cohabit the table
    With useless promotions bearing
    Her personal information

    Scenes play out in her memory
    Cruel comedies damply lit and
    Climaxing in desolation

    The calendar says “Spring Cleaning”

  88. ValerieO says:


    Only the best suit for this occasion
    An audience of bystanders
    Sinners seated on the Blue Line

    Tattered King James Version in hand
    Rehearsed sermon for spare change
    He walks to each rail car

    Hopeful to gain converts

  89. PKP says:

    (Sevenling) Spring

    one small emerald shoot
    peeking from black loamed soil
    ice struggle over

    vivid blooms open
    wide arms to embrace the rain
    spilling spring at last

    What lies hidden under the earth?

  90. PKP says:

    (Sevenling) never again

    you cried last time
    your fist met my cheek
    tears stinging and profuse

    blood dripped just a bit
    on the white sheet
    of the bed we had bought together


  91. PKP says:

    Sevenling (stewing)

    Upon the hot stove
    pot of roiling steaming brew
    Upon the hot stove

    In the cold bedroom
    a figure sits waiting
    behind the door

    Knife flash in moonlight – spells Do Not Enter !

  92. PKP says:

    Sevenling (screwing up a form)

    Fast, furious and wrong
    Fingers flash on and on
    Cannot stop while others post

    Breathe slow and deep
    challenges will keep
    each day a new beginning

    Identity is not a competition!

  93. PKP says:

    Love marriage and a baby carriage
    Sung a singer sweetly long ago
    Now often order jumbled

    Sweet looks and held hands
    Pounding hearts and bridal bands
    Hurry hurry to the push of glands

    Divorce any wonder?

  94. PKP says:

    Larry Moe and Curly
    Have to get up quite early
    To beat their slap-stick burly

    Maher, Stewart, Carlin fun
    Tickle irony till it screams done
    Some like some not as these guys clown

    The smiling global marble pulls a frown!

  95. PKP says:

    Hickory dickory dock
    Sands of time run
    Up the flippin clock
    The clock strikes one
    By one by one
    All shall be done

    Stop winding that flippin clock!

  96. PKP says:

    Okay a few attempts coming … not quite sure I’m getting the hang and wish I had more time to spend :) Apologies if I’m royally mauling this lovely form !

  97. bluerabbit47 says:


    one wide brush
    one block of ink
    one roll of rice paper

    one minute
    one emptiness
    one stoke


  98. priyajane says:

    Sundays are meant to
    relax the brain,
    exercise the frame

    So, rejuvenate the senses
    mend some broken fence
    and sharpen your lenses.

    All in a days work—–

  99. dextrousdigits says:


    Sunday, day of rest
    so why is my list of chores
    Hercules type test

    Dishes, Laundry, floors must wax
    turn soil, dig holes, plant, water
    pull files, Turbo tax

    I’ll not wait, jump in the hot tub, read or meditate.

  100. Julieann says:

    Sunday Dinner

    Where to go after church
    Bar-B-Que or fried chicken, possibly seafood
    Choices a plenty

    Too little time, too much to say
    Friends and family around the table
    Talking all at once

    Way too short a trip

  101. LCaramanna says:

    Sevenling (Orange slices)

    Orange slices passions crush,
    Without substance of miracles
    Deny a victory shot.

    Wolverine warriors zone in,
    Rise to the occasion
    to fly with red birds.

    SU fans bleed orange.


  102. Seven Days A Week



    Thank God for Sunday.

  103. Michelle Hed says:

    A drip
    a drop
    a hoof clop.

    A moan
    a bark
    an old park.

    A foiled death.

  104. Michelle Hed says:

    On a grey day
    the hounds snore
    the fire sputters…

    the tea grows cold
    and the only sound
    is the scratch of lead on paper.

    A scream makes no sound as it is written down.

  105. Michelle Hed says:

    Her throat was sore,
    her head ached
    and her sinuses dripped;

    Sipping tea,
    laying on the couch
    and watching movies;

    Productivity is over rated.

  106. Jane Shlensky says:

    Sevenling (sprung)

    Crab apple buds
    burst pink beside
    dogwood blossoms, azaleas.

    Pollen’s yellow talc
    powders the world.
    My throat closes.

    Beauty hurts.

  107. Jane Shlensky says:

    My instrumental trio played “Morning Has Broken” for a prelude at church today that was so so beautiful. It evoked all this feeling.

    Flute, piano, violin
    make thunder, lightning,
    rain, sunlight, birdsong.

    After the storm,
    Mary seeks her lord
    In the garden.

    Morning has broken.

  108. Jane Shlensky says:


    my dulcimer hums
    a melody beckons
    my fingers search

    wind and rain
    joy and pain
    a string breaks

    love consumes me

  109. Popsicle stick memories
    stained red
    and orange and green.

    Evoke memories not of flavor
    but visions of apples
    and sunsets and grass stained knees.

    Summer stained ice.

  110. viclopab says:

    Today I bring you Seamus Heaney’s “Digging”, set to music, sung and played by myself:)


    Ah, yesterday I didn’t skip the PAD Challenge, I forgot to post here… I set to music a fantastic nonsensical poem that Rafael Alberti wrote about Hieronymus Bosch’s “Garden of Earthly Delights”, here it is:


    Please send me suggestions or your own poems, I can’t promise I’ll be able to set everything to music but I’ll try… Keep writing!

  111. Sevenling: We got the mini-van

    We got the mini-van when our youngest was born;
    the blue sedan is still quite new, and it’s manual,
    unlike our trusty old red two-door. That’s our favorite.

    He drove the blue car into our garage door. The van
    he filled with fast-food wrappers and ran over
    a curb. As luck would have it, he can’t drive a stick.

    I don’t plan on teaching him any time soon.

  112. De Jackson says:

    Helllllllp…I can’t stop Sevenling-ing. ;)

    Seven(ling) (Deadly Sins)

    Deadly sins
    lust after the gluttony
    of their own greed.

    Envy the sloth
    his lack
    of wrath.

    Will the ardent pride of wonders never cease?


  113. A sevenling poem

    What’s the day today? They echoed in tune,
    The Sun, Moon, Stars, Skies, and Earth in one line,
    Tis Third of June.

    But ‘twas still May, to their dismay,
    And some stars in Heaven still in Fray,
    A few days more, till they held their Sway,

    Yes! It works!! (This is the way.)

  114. De Jackson says:


    Three billy goats,
    one gruff and grumpy troll.
    Water under the bridge takes its toll.

    Little piggies build houses
    of straw, sticks, bricks.
    Grandma cries wolf.

    Huff, puff, trip; sometimes life’s a trap.


  115. Glory says:


    he smiles at her –
    eyes alight with amusement
    heart beating fast.

    she turns away –
    deep furrowed forehead
    shoulders hunched.

    she was not amused


    April stirs roots and rubbish along with
    a stony courtyard memory that clutches
    at anything dead. Forgetful, broken, rising.

    From shadow-silence, wet sounds. Frogs,
    crickets, lilacs mixing fragrance of light
    with dark of last year’s summer garden.

    Again the dog has dug up three dry bones.

  117. Sevenling (For one thing)

    For one thing, she had a car.
    She needed a house.
    She wanted a child.

    Actually, she found a hotel.
    She moved in to new life.
    She didn’t lose her dreams or her story.

    What else could she do?

  118. alana sherman says:

    Two sevenlings don’t make a sonnet!!

    Sevenling (I can hear)

    I can hear it in the space
    between the ceiling
    and the second floor

    a bat or bird or a squirrel
    I bang on the walls
    with the flat of my hand

    hoping it will figure away out.

    If I give it a heart attack
    scare it to death
    and it dies there

    the too-sweet odor
    will linger for weeks
    more annoying

    than the scrabbling noise it makes.


  119. Brian Slusher says:


    The cowlicked acolyte appears nervous:
    The burden he bears a quivering flame
    And the altar seems several miles away.

    Yet on he slowly paces down the aisle
    And though his snuffing bell clearly trembles
    He reaches the candle, touches the wick

    And his difficult light shines bravely, bright.

  120. burrhead says:


    Sebastian is a long name
    For a short dog
    A dog to dogmatize

    A dauntless creature
    A stubborn strain
    Aimless perambulator

    Bantam, Dinky, and Lionized

  121. De Jackson says:

    This form is addicting. But I can quit…really. I swear.
    Maybe later.


    I box shadows,
    fight wisdom,
    weep salt.

    laugh, you say.

    I am still waiting for the punch line.


  122. Raina Masters says:

    Guilt trip sevenling

    All she wanted was to relax,
    try to write, sip the mug
    of coffee slowly.

    What she ended up with was
    curt responses, the tone
    of resentment and disgust.

    Again, her muse is sacrificed.

  123. vsbryant1 says:

    An Attempt (Sevenling)

    First attempts are always the hardest
    Your go back and forth, forth and back, trying to make it perfect

    First attempts are always the hardest
    Fear can cloud your judgment

    First attempts are always the hardest
    But if your strong enough you can get pass the hump

    Or you can sit stuck and let writer’s block run a muck!

    • vsbryant1 says:

      (Typing Error on first draft)

      An Attempt (Sevenling)

      First attempts are always the hardest
      You go back and forth, forth and back, trying to make it perfect

      First attempts are always the hardest
      Fear can cloud your judgment

      First attempts are always the hardest
      But if your strong enough you can get pass the hump

      Or you can sit stuck and let writer’s block run a muck!

  124. De Jackson says:


    three sheets
    to the wind.

    Me: knowing
    three’s a crowd.
    Tired of lies and pillow talk.

    This bed: no longer yours.


  125. ewdupler says:

    Sevenling (Long Walks)

    Long walks with you,
    In rhythmic steps,
    My hands perspire.

    You, in the gym,
    As I walked in,
    Others always near.

    Dude, get off my treadmill.

  126. Opel D Hell says:

    sevenling (jumping off)

    she jump thrashed and sang anger
    whipped out hair snared
    word by word roared a hoard of discord.

    yeah! pumped up mob throbbed
    a dream screaming chorus
    hellhound of sound winding and grinding.

    the floor that much stickier afterwards.

  127. Earl Parsons says:

    Love is hard
    Love hurts
    Love takes all of your efforts

    Life is unfair
    Life is a struggle
    Life is what you make it

    Love life

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

  128. PKP says:

    Sevenling (stewing)

    Upon the hot stove
    boils a roiling steaming brew
    Upon the hot stove

    In the cold bedroom
    a figure sits in waiting
    In the bedroom cold

    Enter with caution!

  129. De Jackson says:


    You taught me
    the game of rock,
    paper, scissors.

    and the art of origami.

    I fold. You win.

  130. De Jackson says:

    Sevenling (Three blind mice)

    Three blind mice.
    A farmer’s bride with a blade.
    It’s no wonder they ran.

    Those three little kittens
    are terribly busy
    looking for their mittens.

    But I bet they’d still give them a hand.


  131. Earl Parsons says:

    White Sand

    The beach is inviting me today
    The sun is warm and high in the sky
    And Spring Break is over

    So I pack up the Jeep and head South
    To the emerald green waters and
    White sands of Santa Rosa Island

    Then my favorite golf course runs interference

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

  132. Lindy says:

    Not sure this is technically correct, but it is what came out. Muse does her own thing…

    Lucky Lindy

    Carefully sorting the aftereffects –
    documents, photos and cancelled checks –
    A single handwritten page is next:

    For forty-six years her heart protects
    a labor of love in retrospect;
    my own arrival, it’s only subject.

    “Found a four leaf clover.”

  133. (Sevenling)

    Red tip

    Yellow Jacket

    Let us be.

  134. Opel D Hell says:

    jumping off

    she jump thrashed and sang anger
    whipped out hair snared
    word by word roared a hoard of discord.

    yeah! pumped up mob throbbed
    a dream screaming chorus
    hellhound of sound winding and grinding.

    the floor that much stickier afterwards.

  135. Jackie Casey says:

    (Sevenling should be titled Sevenling followed by the first few words in parentheses. The tone should be mysterious, offbeat or disturbing, giving a feeling that only part of the story is being told. The poem should have a certain ambience which invites guesswork from the reader.

    “Sevenling” (such beauty is)

    Such beauty is the white rose in that vase!
    There’s kitchen clatter; guttural the drain.
    The hiss of steaming pots announce a din.

    A hurried note; its writing smeared and stained
    White tablecloth is stormed with many spots;
    The chicken, fried, is cold and in a bowl.

    The sign upon the door says: “Out to Lunch”

  136. MeenaRose says:

    The Grand Illusion
    By: Meena Rose

    Bogged down by
    Work, commitments and
    Spreading herself too thin

    She longed for time
    To pursue interests, fight for a cause
    And champion the voiceless

    She learned “No” will get her there – not “Yes”

  137. vxl says:

    Today I Rest.

    I know it is sweet
    to say you need me
    to rest a round world on square shoulders.

    It seems complimentary
    to say that without me
    you would simply die.

    But today I rest, so we’ll find out.

  138. happy sunday day 7 PAD


    The good book says moderation
    in all things, listen to your elders
    give generously for the greater good

    The pompous, money grubbing,
    cock sucking pastor
    from prison confided

    Happiness is one fickle bitch

  139. missjoyce says:


    I stare at him all handsome
    with beauty in his eyes,
    his mouth that scarcely lies.

    He’s wonderfully witty,
    always ready to speak out
    with pure intentions, no doubt.

    My dad, he turned 70.

  140. PressOn says:


    It’s funny, how the three of us
    supposedly best two of us.
    It may be so, but one of us

    does not agree that all of us
    combine to make the best of us;
    instead, we flout the rest of us,

    for two, not three, will form a singularity.

  141. Melanie says:

    The washing machine on its last legs
    Rocks from side to side, shudders loudly
    And vomits water into a fragrant puddle

    The Monday wash still has Thursday’s garden dirt,
    The orange of Friday’s tikka masala
    and a sprinkle of sand from Saturday’s day at the beach

    I hitch up my skirt to tread sheets in the bath

  142. Yolee says:

    Robert, beautiful sevenling.

  143. profal29 says:

    The 7th Day

    the smell is clear
    the paints of oil, but acryllics today
    brushes aside, scraping away

    reds, blues, greens, and golds
    dust, dirt, pumice and stone
    hit that canvas with an artists groan

    I need to stretch these poor old weary bones

  144. PressOn says:


    When seven brothers met their brides,
    they sang and danced and wooed; besides,
    they needed wives to tan their hides.

    The seven brides saw seven brothers;
    they saw some kids in need of mothers
    and so they looked around for others.

    Found on the cutting-room floor.

  145. pmwanken says:


    Farm girl
    eager to escape the reality
    of chores, isolation and simplicity.

    The city
    a dreamland filled with
    people, action, and entertainment.

    Waking from dreams can give perspective to reality.

    P. Wanken

  146. Deri says:

    The Farmer’s Wife

    He sits in somber twilight,
    the flickering television glow
    his best company now.

    He fingers a tiny gold circle
    in calloused and cracked hands,
    ached with work and waiting.

    Under the elm trees, flowers grow over the gentle mound.

  147. ELLENLAMBERT says:

    Robert — bless you for such a fun save haven to craft and play and learn! I’m loving the challenge!

    Before the Snakes

    And on the seventh day He rested
    After fish, and seas, and sky
    The creating wore Him out

    Imagine if he’d given up
    Before light or stars or man
    How grand that He’s persistent

    He might’ve stopped before snakes.

  148. PSC in CT says:

    Sevenling: The 7th
    Waking at 7am
    on the 7th day of the month
    anticipating the 7th prompt

    yoga completed,
    breakfast pending, I step outside
    to pick up the Sunday paper

    First scent of spring (finally!) blossoms; my smile blooms.


  149. Angie5804 says:

    At first they dipped toes in salty water
    Then up to their knees in the gentle bay
    The splashing soon began

    First one stripped down to underwear
    The others followed, giggling
    In January, in Florida

    What a grand third birthday

  150. RJ Clarken says:

    Sevenling (With Epigraph)

    “The serpent, the king, the tiger, the stinging wasp, the small child, the dog owned by other people, and the fool: these seven ought not to be awakened from sleep”. ~Chanakya

    No one sought to awaken
    the serpent, the king
    or even the tiger.

    The stinging wasp, the small child
    and the dog owned by other people
    remained in a deep slumber, too.

    However, someone woke me up – and that’s going to mean trouble.


  151. Marie Elena says:

    Searing glare.
    Callous, heartless, spiteful words.
    Dagger to heart. Blow to head.

    soft reply
    turned cheek

    Do not mistake kindness for weakness

  152. annell says:

    Can’t sleep
    Toss and turn
    Worry worry worry

    Should I do
    Or that
    Worry worry worry

    Time rushes ahead like a crowd

  153. Nancy Posey says:

    Thought I’d play off the seven days of creation (instead of Snow White’s dwarves)

    New Creation

    She always rose at first light,
    tiptoed to the window, checked the sky
    for rain before watering her plants

    She wondered where the stars and moon
    spend their day—are they like fish or birds
    submerged in sea, camouflaged in sky, like the man

    who simply slipped away, while she lay at rest?

  154. Weedlewom says:


    Sitting in quiet contemplation;
    considering the way –
    jump-starting a poem.

    Gunning the motor,
    brain on idle,
    smoke from the tailpipe.

    For once, coffee fails me.

    Susan Dean Wessells

  155. just Lynne says:

    No love for the squirrels

    In the yard a grackle cocks his head
    a mourning dove plumps her feathers
    a cardinal perches on a branch and sings

    Inside you stand by the window, watching
    I reach for the field guide, reading
    Your dog growls, jumping desperately

    convinced we’re watching those rotten squirrels again

  156. Relating (Sevenling)

    David, Julie and Alesha moved closer
    as the lovely lady read my aura.
    ‘Are you all family?’ she asked.

    ‘This is my son,’ I said, then hesitated.
    ‘I’m his partner,’ said Julie, ‘And this
    is my child.’ I smiled. So it was official!

    The reader said, ‘Your aura is full of love.’

  157. The Grand Sevenlings

    Daughters came – one after the other,
    filling days with joy and fright.
    Would they survive my mothering?

    Grandchildren – what a surprise!
    Small copies of their mothers-
    daredevils in angelic form.

    Must have done something right!

    Re: title – I will soon have 7 grandchildren. Talk about blessings!

  158. PressOn says:


    The purple finches congregate
    around the feeders full of seed;
    no single bird can know its fate.

    The sharp-shin satisfies its need
    to feed, and then to seek and mate;
    and so, in time, a finch will bleed.

    The whole of nature is in that tree.

  159. Impossibe,says you! Watch me! Says I :-)

    Dear Moosehead,

    I am surrounded by madness and mayhem!
    Two crazy broads and one Queen’s dwelling idiot.
    My only saviour is letting me down.

    Yet another defeat – how long does it take?
    Two homers and a little improvement.
    My faith remains strong. Pick ya up at 12.

    Just don’t talk in the car. Actually just don’t talk

    Yours waxing pathetic,

    Ringo the Howler

    p.s. excuse the weird spacing my lappy is fritzing! 

  160. bxpoetlover says:

    No Apology

    You, me sneaking behind she.
    Does not titillate.
    Work it out.

    Me with he
    Who will love, cherish me. Singularly.
    I will wait.

    So no. It’s not a date.

  161. progress grinding to a halt
    two steps forward, one step back
    wading through porridge

    brain still racing crazily
    one course needed – in two minds
    struggling for clarity

    decision made – nap time!


  162. PoM says:

    Ten Fish on a stringer hang from a tree
    Worms on the ground trapped in a box
    Pay no attention the bouncing fishing rod

    The poet he sits on a nearby rock
    A pad and pencil he scribbles and writes
    Does not realize another fish is caught

    The poet lost in thought writes a Sevenling fishy rhyme

  163. PowerUnit says:

    By God

    Our gods made us who we are
    All our fault and every scar
    They don’t try to squeeze us

    Others say the gods are fake
    Religion’s nothing but a rake
    They only try to tease us

    Either way our gods never please us

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