2013 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 27

We’re getting down to the final days of this challenge, but don’t use that as an excuse to ease up on the gas pedal. Rather, put the pedal to the metal and rock these final few prompts!

For today’s prompt, write a local poem. By local, I’m thinking of something that happens or has happened in your neck of the woods, but you know, I’m never against poets bending and/or breaking my rules. So feel free to play with the concept of local however you wish.

Here’s my attempt at a Local Poem:


One has to ask if she took a wrong turn
in Albuquerque. If only she’d hopped

a train, she could have traded one city
for the other. The first mall, pizza rolls,

and pie a la mode, though the winters get
so cold. Did she feel trapped by the “I do”

she never said? Does she ever look back?


Learn the Fundamentals of Poetry. Click to continue.


Robert Lee Brewer

Robert Lee Brewer

Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and a resident of Duluth, Georgia, which is home to the Runaway Bride from 2005 (click here to read the story). Ironically, Robert actually moved to Duluth upon marrying the poet Tammy Foster Brewer; he finds the downtown area charming and a bit of Dayton, Ohio, moved down with him afterward (as NCR changed their long-time HQ from Dayton to Duluth). Robert is the author of Solving the World’s Problems and a former track star. Nowadays, he’s chasing his kids around the house and wishing he still had the speed of his teen years. Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.


Check out a couple poetic posts here:

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153 thoughts on “2013 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 27

  1. seingraham


    The house is dark, the Christmas house is
    It’s a pretty big deal this house; once the guy
    gets everything lit and all
    Every inch of the place has something going on:
    twirling, glistening, red and green, gold and silver
    blinking on and off, strobing — you name it
    The Christmas house has it…so much so, it’s been
    photographed…from space!
    There’s a rumour the owner is in a fight with the city
    But city council is forever talking about ways to put
    this city on the map
    Let the world know who and where we are…

    We are, after all, getting a world-class, multi-million
    dollar sports arena down-town
    And it’s supposed to revitalize that whole area plus
    put us on that darned map
    We fight to have events brought to the city, like world
    soccer, and celebrities of note to perform
    And we are the capital of this fair province – shouldn’t that
    count for something?
    But that Christmas house — that’s something special —
    I hope they can work out their differences, I do.

  2. bjzeimer

    A Local Poem. PAD 27


    I am thankful for my little town
    for my neighbors
    the little store and gas pump at the corner
    my mailbox at the post office
    I’m thankful for the one traffic light
    the Village Animal Clinic across the street
    where I take my puppy,
    the VFW club on the corner
    the American flag they fly
    the brick sculpture
    inscribed with the veterans names.
    I’m thankful for Pa’s Place
    the guy on the corner of High Street
    that fixes tires and sells used ones.
    I’m thankful for my family,
    the newborn baby
    friends that will give you the shirt off their back
    the turkey that’s roasting in the oven.

  3. Yolee

    In Seminole County

    My boy was locked out of the house. I left work
    that Monday in November to let him in. It was 1:30ish
    Helicopters hovered near our neighborhood.
    Did someone escape from prison?

    I checked things out at home and was
    ready to head back to the office when
    my daughter sent me a message via
    text of a link. It was a photo of a street corner
    where officers and police cars blocked
    most of the scene. I recognized the street
    name. George Zimmerman does too.

  4. Earl Parsons

    Surviving BP and the Media

    The media flocked to our beaches
    The President scooped a handful of sand
    No oil tar for him to inspect
    Just sugar white beaches unscathed
    By the disaster of the BP oil spill

    Oh, sure, some oil tar washed up
    But the media proclaimed Armageddon
    Had taken place in the Northern Gulf
    The rest of the world had witnessed
    The end of the Emerald Coast as we knew it

    But we locals knew the truth of the matter
    And we got together to make things right
    Even though the so called experts proclaimed
    This the worst oil spill disaster in history
    But, then, who listens to so-called experts?
    Apparently a lot do

    Regardless, we survived the BP oil spill
    And the onslaught of media misinformation
    Purposely hyped to gain ratings
    At the expense of the tourism industry
    And the livelihood of many who depend on
    The money spent by those that visit here

    So come on down to the Emerald Coast
    Disregard the hype of misinformation
    Our waters are still emerald green
    Our beaches are still sugar white
    And our seafood is still most delicious

    Come to the coast
    Have a good time
    We’re open for business
    We always have been

  5. Michelle Hed

    Stumped In Minnesota

    I sat
    and thought
    but nothing came to mind.
    So I
    walked away
    and ran some errands
    on this
    blustery, frigid day.

    The ground
    the color of peanut brittle
    lined with cigarette wands
    and tar
    beneath my wheels
    the roads I travel on –
    gives me
    nothing to be inspired upon.

    The sky
    is a murky soup,
    a weak sun tries to filter through.
    My view
    is a bleak, boring mess
    of a sleeping earth dressed
    in dirt,
    no words to scrape off my shoe.

    So I
    went to bed
    hoping today would be a better day
    and here
    I sit, still pondering
    the words I need to say
    on another
    bleak and dreary day.

  6. Tracy Davidson

    Spaghetti Junction (Birmingham, England)

    after the crash
    when my ears stop ringing
    I look up
    and see a broken ball
    of blood and bone
    where his windscreen
    used to be

  7. DWong

    Unfelt Boom

    blue green light
    filled the sky
    a boom

    a rumble
    rippled through
    the ground

    but the source
    can’t be found
    now the

    snow and rain
    and snow fell

    any signs
    of blue green
    light filled

    the sky rumbled
    boomed nearby

    as I sat
    eating my

  8. Rosemary Nissen-Wade

    (Apologies if I posted this already, but I can’t find it and I don’t think it went through the first time.)


    Sky blue burning.
    Summer is here
    as always, ahead of time.

    Hot, hot, hot, we love it
    from inside our cooled houses,
    our beaches and swimming-pools.

    Evenings, we sit out
    on shady verandahs,
    watching the local birds.

    Mornings, we’re up with the sun,
    watering and weeding
    before that sun climbs high.

    Nights, we lie under
    just one sheet, with the fan on.
    Here in the Caldera, living is good.


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