Editors Blog

2014 April PAD Challenge: Day 14

Yesterday, I mentioned how guest judges Daniel Nester and Vince Gotera suggested possible poetry prompts. Well, today’s guest judge, Jericho Brown, is only one who requested a specific day to be a guest: Today, April 14. I’m not sure if this is because it’s the day Pulitzer finalists and winners are announced, or if he has a thing for sonnets (14 lines), though it really could be as simple as it’s his birthday! No, really, it is his birthday–so say happy birthday and buy his book, Please.

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “If I Were (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Possible titles might include: “If I Were President,” “If I Were Smarter,” “If I Were a Little More Sensitive,” or “If I Were Born on April 14.” If I were you, I’d get poeming about now.


2014_poets_marketPublish Your Poetry!

Learn how to get your poetry published with the assistance of the 2014 Poet’s Market, edited by Robert Lee Brewer. This book is filled with listings for poetry book publishers, chapbook publishers, magazines, journals, online publications, contests, grants, and more!

Plus, it contains articles on the craft, business, and promotion of poetry. There are interviews with poets, original poems, and so much more!

Click to continue.


Here’s my attempt at an If I Were Blank poem:

“if i were any more good looking”

the sun would explode into a black hole
& i’d be the event horizon that draws
the universe in upon itself

women would oooohhh
& men would aaaahhh

it would be impossible to keep a date
because it would be impossible
to get anywhere without numbers
& underwear tossed in my direction

lucky for me my dna stopped
just short of perfection
because if i were any more good looking
i wouldn’t be able to find a mirror
cloudy enough to pull me away
from my wonderful reflection

i’m not sorry for what i lack
because my deck’s already stacked
& besides from my point of view
if i were any more good looking
i’d be looking a lot like you


Today’s guest judge is…

Jericho Brown

Jericho Brown

Jericho Brown

Jericho is the author of Please and the forthcoming The New Testament. His first collection Please won the 2009 American Book Award.

Jericho taught at the University of San Diego until 2012, when he became a professor at Emory University (in Atlanta, GA).

A former speechwriter for the Mayor of New Orleans, Jericho has had his poetry published in several publications, including The Iowa Review, New England Review, and Oxford American.

Learn more here: http://www.jerichobrown.com/.


PYHO_Small_200x200Poem Your Heart Out

Poems, Prompts & Room to Add Your Own for the 2014 April PAD Challenge!

Words Dance Publishing is offering 20% off pre-orders for the Poem Your Heart Out anthology until May 1st! If you’d like to learn a bit more about our vision for the book, when it will be published, among other details.

Click to continue.


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems. He once ran into Jericho in a stairwell before a reading (and Jericho was super nice). Learn more about Robert here: http://www.robertleebrewer.com/.


If I were you, I’d check out these other poetic posts:


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700 thoughts on “2014 April PAD Challenge: Day 14

  1. PenConnor

    If I were a carousel horse
    spinning through a warm summer night,
    I would loose my bolts and take flight.

    I would nicker to the crickets,
    and run just to hear my hoof-beats
    keep time with their evening singsong.

    If I were a gilded pony,
    racing sisters in wide circles,
    I’d cut free my bedecked harness.

    As the night wind shrilly whistled,
    I’d call to those painted sisters,
    and we’d race the stars for the moon.

    If I were a horse with wings, I’d
    mount the night clouds and take flight,
    chasing after burning comets.

    I would leave that circling circus
    carousel to turn alone,
    riderless and horseless, too.

  2. ianchandler

    If I Were Twenty-Eight (Fourteen)

    Hail (Mary) the cab into a spiral of
    (decided)ly springtime puddles, marching
    forward (to) slip the swoon of water,
    crouching below the grey, the dirt bellowed
    (like) winter, fractals of (all)-sky earthdust
    showering (the) plains with ardent affection,
    (things) like arrows pointing like compasses
    (that) crochet, confusing the listener or watcher
    who (would) otherwise (make) a map out
    of whatever was lying around; his penknife, (her)
    summer dress, find a direction based on
    optimism and not (miserable) reality.
    Spoon into morning; recluse until night.

  3. alana sherman

    Day 14 If I were____________

    “If I Were King Of The Forest…”

    If I were king of the monkeys
    I’d hang by my tail from a tree
    If I were king of the kangaroos
    I’d jump ’til I was free

    If I were queen of pineapples
    My spiky leaves would sing
    If I were queen of the finches
    everyday would be spring

    If I were a wonderful father
    no one would never fight
    If I were a decent mother
    I could make everything right

    If I were a tall glass of water
    My words would flow like a stream
    If I were the lord of nightmares
    I’d never let you dream

    If I were a beggar,
    a horse or grief
    I’d steal into your thoughts
    in the night like a thief

    And if I were
    like the wind
    I’d blow ’round the world
    and then do it again!


  4. Susan Budig

    Telling the Truth

    If I were dry instead of spilling over
    A stemmed rummer: Chardonnay or port
    If I were bare instead of drunk with clover
    Wisteria madly climbing o’er my fort

    If I were fair instead of robust swart
    My limbs each a shaded branch
    If I were willowy, but nay, I am short
    Burning thoughts the world will stanch

    If I were a vicar, not stuck on this ranch
    Prayers launched unto the Promised Land
    To face the Almighty, I’d surely blanch
    My intractable ship by Him be manned

    If I were willing, I’d spread my arms and die
    But my arms stay folded; I bow and sigh

  5. lily black

    If I Were Brave

    If I Were brave
    I would call you up
    Stop at that same old bar
    Sit next to your same old seat
    I’d buy you a Maker’s Mark
    Feed money to the jukebox
    Play Dead and Hank and Gaga
    And anything to make you pontificate
    ‘til closing time.
    Then I’d follow your drunk ass home
    Kiss you under the black dark sky
    Or star filled I don’t care
    I would grab you and kiss you hard
    Under the sky
    If I were brave
    But I lost that.

  6. suddenleigh

    If I Were A Story

    By Stephanie Reardon

    If I were a story
    I’d kiss you good night,
    I tuck in the covers
    And turn out the light.

    If I were a story
    I’d fill you with dreams
    Of places not traveled
    And creatures unseen.

    I’d be company
    On the beach,
    And on trains,
    And on planes,
    I’d be a bit of escape
    On a day filled with rain.
    If I were a story
    I could change the world,
    I could change ideas and people,
    I could change how fates are hurled.
    Or a heart
    Or a soul,
    I could give courage,
    Or hope,
    Or make broken people whole.
    If I were a story
    I’d be small and yet strong.
    And if I were a story,
    I hope you’d pass me on.

  7. Amirae Garcia

    If I Were Older – Amirae Garcia

    I would have loved you better.
    I would have given you what you deserved.
    I would have apologized for the intrusion.
    I would not have robbed your heart like a thief in the night.
    I would not have locked you away so incredibly tight.

  8. TuLife

    “If I Were Love”
    By: Tuere Aisha

    If I were love, what would I be?
    Just a word – a four letter word,
    or a feeling – a mystic feeling?
    A mystery or a novel?
    Would I be a glory or a sorrow?
    What would I be?

    If I were love, to whom would I display my affection?
    A prince, a princess,
    or a stranger, perhaps an acquaintance?
    A delicate carnation or a ferocious beast?
    To whom would I display my affection?

    If I were love, what would be the aim of my passion?
    God’s regard for His creatures, charity,
    or a virtue, to show my great liking?
    A fondness, or my friendliness?
    Would I be for foolish tenderness or indulgence?
    What would be the object of my emotion?

    If I were love, I’d be where you needed me.

  9. bookworm0341

    “If I Were Able…”

    If I were able, I would pay off my parents’ house
    And purchase them I new(er) car,
    As the car they share has seen better days
    And gives them heck all the time
    The mortgage company calls them often
    And not just to be kind and say hello.

    If I were able, I would bring my sisters’ and their families home
    For each and every holiday
    And buy them each a house nearby
    Keeping their husbands out of harms way,
    As they are in the military,
    And homeschool each of my 4 nieces and 1 nephew

    If I were able, I would take my 96 year old Grammy out of the nursing home,
    And take care of her full-time,
    As she does not belong there, for all she has done for us.
    I would make sure that my Nana was well taken care of,
    And that her garden was free of weeds,
    And grass was cut perfect, each and every time.

    If I were able, I would start my nieces and nephew off, with a few acres of land
    As that is one thing that we can’t make more of.
    I would also invest $1,000 for each of them
    and pray that when they were old enough, it would be used wisely
    to go to college, start their own business,
    or put a building on their land, for their family to work or live

    If I were able, I would spend time with each person that I care about,
    Helping them accomplish something huge.
    I would hug them, talk with them, and just be there for whatever they need.
    They would know that I mean what I say when I look them in the eyes
    And tell them that I truly do care, from the bottom of my heart,
    And that I am glad they are in my life.

    If I were able, I would get married and have children, adopting one as well
    I would take them on educational trips in and out of books.
    I would have my own business, doing things I enjoy-
    Making sure that evenings and weekends were free to spend time with those I love.
    I would be the best wife that I could be, partner in crime, right-hand woman,
    and my husband would know that I fell hard for him, by the look in my eyes.

    If I were able, I would do all of this and long to do so much more.

    By Jennifer M. Terry
    April 2014

  10. clcediting

    If I were Sarah

    You know from Labyrinth?
    Who fought her way
    through the maze
    to the castle in the middle
    and David Bowie in tights
    to rescue her little brother;
    I’d have stayed.

    Let the goblins take Toby
    home to my parents;
    well home to my Dad
    and his newish wife.
    I would stay in the place
    with new friends,
    and magic,
    and David Bowie in tights.

    If I found a magic land
    through a wardrobe,
    or down a rabbit’s hole;
    I’d be enjoying myself
    not searching for home.
    No one, save Dorthy,
    prefers Kansas to Oz.

  11. Ciel_

    If I Were Flesh and Bone

    If I Were Flesh and Bone
    I’d tell you that
    I love
    the way you read out loud
    the way you
    say my name
    your plum
    berry lips
    hug every consonant and
    kiss every vowel.

    I’d rush from these pages
    to pull you close
    so I could
    feel each breath
    you take
    so I could
    breathe you in
    and drown
    in your maple syrup
    blackberry sweetness.

    If I were flesh and bone
    I’d tell you that
    I love
    But you know how this
    story goes.
    I’ll break your heart and I
    can’t help it.
    It’s just the way
    I’m written.

    By Ciel Haven

  12. horselovernat

    If I Were a Star by Natalie Gasper

    I would spend my whole life burning bright,
    turning hydrogen into helium.
    My light would take thousands of years to reach earth.
    Just think, thousands of years old,
    and someone will finally see me for the first time!
    What will their imaginations turn me into?

    Maybe the heart of a running lion,
    the tip of a unicorn’s horn,
    or the belt of a great warrior.
    I would be studied through the telescopes of man
    given a name and a number,
    a type and a color.

    Brightest of all my neighbor stars,
    I would be a vibrant blue.
    My excitement for life causing me to burn my fuel
    faster than most. Standing out in the sky,
    travelers all across the universe could use me
    to guide them as they forge new paths,
    or rediscover old ones.

    One day, the great northern guide Polaris
    will turn to nothing more than gas and dust,
    and everyone will turn to me.
    I could become a distant ball of burning gas
    that is able to make a difference,
    even if I only save on man from death.

    If I were a star, I would want to help others.
    Give a young child something faraway to wish upon
    or spark the imaginations of a people
    to help them create stories and traditions.
    Maybe, I could even be big enough,
    strong enough, hot enough
    to take a lonely floating asteroid
    and foster the creation of life.

  13. pmwanken


    if I were
    I could have
    given him children

    if I were
    he would have believed
    I wasn’t expecting
    to have children

    if I were
    I would not have been

    if I were
    I would not
    have let him use me

    if I were
    I would not be

    if I were…
    his type.

  14. PKP

    If I Were My Old Self

    This screen would
    stay quiet replaced
    by a simple stack
    of yellow pads and
    think black rolling
    writers – packed in
    a single bag with
    a bathing suit two
    long white shirts
    and my ticket
    to ride back to
    the sea
    the aquamarine
    sea where in the
    sunshine sunset
    of years yet to
    unfold I would sit
    at the shimmered
    shore of youth and
    write out the last

  15. Alaska Christina

    If I were a pencil
    I would rewrite pages in the journals
    that line my bedroom wall –
    and allow for second chances.

    If I were a painting
    I would hang tilted on an angle
    just a bit off to the side –
    to embrace alternate perspectives.

    If I were a flower
    I would throw my scent out in to the night
    for insomniacs to smell –
    and offer more kindness to others.

    If I were a tree
    I would bend my branches through your window
    and kiss you while you sleep –
    to love you more deeply.

  16. JayGee2711

    If I Were Not Gone Lime Green Crazy

    If I were not gone lime green crazy
    with summer dancing on the lawn,
    I would make us chicken salad
    and you could pour us both some wine.

    Instead let’s walk down to the shore,
    drink the sun in, daydream-hungry,
    fill our pockets with pretty stones
    and eat ice cream cones for dinner.

  17. Connie Inglis

    If I Were a Time Lord

    Time stops not
    for emperors
    or queens,
    for football stars
    or movie celebrities.
    Humans. And
    in humanity, are
    unable to slow
    down the

    Time Lord

    who lives on
    and on
    and on
    traveling to the
    past, the future.
    Is there a present?
    Short-term companions
    bring joy yet
    sadness at loss.

    I think
    I’d rather be,

  18. LeighSpencer

    If I were Brave

    If I were brave
    I would feel the wind in my hair

    Watch the ground
    leave my feet


    As a bird
    recognizing only the beauty of flight
    with no thought of the destination

    Or the crash

    I am not capable
    of such leaps of faith

    But I take one step

    Then another

    So perhaps
    I am brave

  19. Anders Bylund

    If I Were Ready
    If I were ready for it
    I would have told you

    If I were ready for it
    You would have known

    If I were ready for it
    I wouldn’t scold you

    If I were ready for it
    There’d be no, “Don’t!”

  20. CLRichardson

    If I had sympathy

    It may appear
    I have no sympathy
    And coldness running through my veins

    It is true. I have no sympathy
    If there’s no blood
    Or broken bones

    I have no sympathy
    If you choose to whine
    Or create your own drama

    My sympathy is reserved for those who need it
    Not those who pretend
    Or make a mountain out of a mole hill

    If you want my sympathy
    Your pain must be real
    And not ploy

    If you want my sympathy
    Own your mistakes
    And I will help you find a solution

    With that
    You will have not only my sympathy
    But also my respect

    Christy Lynn Richardson

  21. bxpoetlover

    If I Were Finished

    wouldn’t my napkin be in my plate?
    Please don’t hover.
    I like to savor
    each flavor
    the curve of his lashes
    as I size him up from across the table.
    It’s not that crowded in here
    and yes, I will order dessert.
    Why rush into sweetness?

  22. Louise Findlay

    If I Were a God

    If I were a god,
    I’d change the world.

    If I were a god,
    I’d change the future.

    If I were a god,
    I’d change the past.

    If I were a god,
    I’d change the present.

    If I were a god,
    I’d change nothing.

  23. cdonnelltx@yahoo.com

    If I were the person
    I was supposed to be
    Who would I see
    My parents said
    In fantasy I tread
    I wasn’t a girl who
    Liked to clean or cook
    They said don’t read a book
    Music’s not important enough
    If I had become
    Who I should have been
    Musician or writer
    Or artist within
    Would live in this skin
    Instead of rusty bits and pieces
    Of what I might have become
    Leftovers – life left undone
    Whatever happened to me?

  24. Hannah


    They want to be the brightest –
    want to be the newest, next rising
    star they wish to be the most
    brilliant so they follow the star-dust
    paths. They plow their way to the top
    of the list by kissing all the right
    folks, those with bling pasted to their
    grills. They read all of the latest
    hoping to be up to date on the
    trend spending their parents
    pilfered money on Miley Cyrus
    tattoos. Peace signs, hearts and
    the Om symbol are still fresh in their
    longing for stardom skin, twisted
    into something unrecognizable
    even to their own – they’re strangers,
    deranged and aching to shine they’re
    all alike. It makes one wonder if there’s
    such a thing as a unique creature in this
    mess, this cyclone of same spins and
    is sucking in the young people by the
    thousands; radio waves and blaring
    T.V. streams through the shells of empty
    houses that used to hold whole
    families – individuals that celebrated
    being one of their own kind un –
    tainted by the swirling cosmos of stars.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014

  25. Jay Sizemore

    If I were reincarnated as the razor of a bearded man

    I’d have less to do than a writer says he will do tomorrow,
    lying on a cold porcelain bed, longing
    for the touch of hand. I’d become jealous of scissors,
    tired of listening to their wish-wish, wish-wishes.
    I’d ask the mirror to tell me secrets.
    I would beg the light to stop reflecting
    off my skin, to linger long enough
    for some kind of warmth.
    Edge turning to rust, soul to dust,
    I’d dream of his wife’s legs
    and feel no shame.

  26. Sharon Ann

    Pop Culture

    It’s about the music.
    It’s about the mood.
    It’s about the way we feel
    and what we do.

    It’s about who we know.
    It’s about power too.
    It’s about what we wore
    and about who’s who.

    It’s about movies on the big screen.
    It’s about movie stars.
    It’s about their houses
    and about their cars.

    It’s about the followers,
    social media style.
    Maybe not forever
    but for a little while.

  27. AC Leming

    Trying to catch up on the posting…I didn’t have a love poem in me, all 5 attempts came out in various shades of Anti-Love.

    15 April 2015, 2300-ish


    I’m blue today,
    lost in grief.
    Tears mingle with rain
    as I trudge toward the car
    without looking back.

  28. Angela Kidd

    If I Were a Chip

    If I were a chip
    I’d be salty and oily
    Licked from everyone’s fingertips
    Dissolved on the tongue
    An addiction with flavor
    On everyone’s mind
    The ultimate crush but
    Crushed in the end
    Replaced by carrots

  29. Michelle Murrish

    If I were her

    By Michelle Murrish

    If I were her, would I still laugh so loud
    Be another taunting jeer from the crowd
    Still whisper and stare
    At the clothes that she wears
    If I were her, would keep coming back

    If she were me, I bet she’d stand for what’s right
    She would come to my aid, she would fight my fight
    So I’ll rearrange
    It’s not too late to change
    Be the me that I know she would be

  30. Mariya Koleva

    I can’t believe I missed posting my poem :-) It’s funny, I was in such a hurry to catch up that I finally forgot about posting
    April Poem-A-Day 14 – What If I

    What if I wrote the same poem again,
    Like the one I wrote two years ago?
    Would I feel my words the same way?
    Would the verse take me exactly
    where I go?

    What if I were smarter or duller
    and stayed, or I left, or what if I did both
    but to different people?

    Same prompts come over and then once again
    so that I reconsider the verse path
    that I take
    So that I have some time to evaluate
    the lifespan of my poem,
    its growth
    and its truth.

    What if I had changed
    and did things the same way
    as I always do?

  31. Yolee

    If I Were Anyone Else

    Would I have been plucked
    by love like a violet flower
    from a city’s concrete shore?
    Would arrows spring from my bow
    and head straight for ends
    I never did see? Would the crunch
    of earth beneath my feet whisper
    me back to a blessed tree? Would
    my old soul adjust to fresh bones?
    Would love offer pears
    to my hungry dreams?

  32. Azma

    IF I WERE…

    If I were the floor beneath your feet
    I would worship your every step
    If I were the breeze brushing past your cheek
    I would be as gentle as I could get
    If I were the kind of joke that makes you laugh
    I would be the best in the book
    If I were your lover’s fingers
    I would twine your tresses like a precious ring
    If I were you
    I would stay the same and never change

    -Azma Sheikh

  33. Emma

    If I were stronger

    I would not bend to the will of the world.
    But if you look at me and see me
    As weak and nothing more, then you
    Don’t understand how my mother’s
    Bad moods were infectious, would
    Spread through the air like poisonous vapour.
    I worry out of habit, because
    Everytime I forget to be prepared for
    An attack, everything I forgot to fear
    Would get me. Maybe I’m bland
    And boring and not brave.
    Maybe I’m not the fighter that I ought to be.
    My immune system isn’t good enough
    And the world is full of tiny toxins.

  34. gloryia

    If I Were To Be

    As if frozen
    in sorrow or pain,
    with head bowed
    thoughts hidden behind
    an inscrutable face. You
    ever vigilant watching from afar
    your heart at a steady beat
    wondering, waiting for me
    to lift my head, to look at
    your wondrous face.

  35. shethra77

    Silver Life

    If I were the silver moon
    floating in the sky,
    I’d overglow all other worlds
    as I drifted by.

    If I were a silver fish
    swimming in the sea,
    I’d gather all the biggest whales
    to join and school with me.

    If I were a silver sword
    fine and sharp and strong,
    my doughty warrior and I
    would live in bards’ great song.

    I’ve grown from babe, I’ve grown from maid,
    mother and grandma too.
    And look! My hair’s turned silver,
    But my life is gold with you.

  36. Rolf Erickson


    If I were a tree
    I would have low branches
    so small children
    could crawl up
    and rest in my arms.

    I would reach my fingers
    toward the sun and
    sway with the wind
    in a storm.

    I would press my roots
    down into the dark earth
    my tiniest tendrils sneaking
    their way deeper in the night.

    I would call to the birds
    and hum my songs
    and create shade
    on hot summer days.

    There would always be
    something to do
    somewhere to go
    someone to know.

    I would have soft bark
    made even softer by
    the hugs of those
    who knew me.

    I would love.
    Even if I didn’t know
    how or who or what.
    I would love.

  37. Nanamaxtwo

    If I Were

    “What lasts is what you start with.” Charles Wright.
    Used in A New Path by Raymond Carver

    If I were given the chance to live my life again
    jostled in this opaque world, born to the same parents–
    giving, divided and broken; renter the same body,
    liver, heart, laugh; I would do it again.
    I’d live lean and make the same dancing flame pregnant.
    I sacrificed to write, poverty and debt licking at my heels
    while the dream pursued wolf-like. Given the chance
    I would meander between jobs and bars again,
    writing in true sentences not lines and images,
    terse, immediate, real. First learn from Gardner,
    then make the stories my own.
    I would drink with Cheever in Iowa City,
    learn from him what alcohol was about: despair
    that words don’t collect in a bottle and pour
    themselves gracefully onto the page.
    Maybe I’d drink my last earlier, but not too soon.
    Standing on the shore of the Pacific, I’d shout,
    “The sea is high again today, with a thrilling flush of wind.”*
    Just give me half a chance.

    *Lawrence Durrell

  38. Kit Cooley

    If I Were Less Anxious

    Calm. That is what I strive for,
    while buried under things
    that need done, yesterday.
    I sleep little at night,
    unable to stop the chatter
    in my brain. The pain,
    the torture, self-inflicted,
    would melt away. If I could
    just be less anxious.

    ~ Kit Cooley

  39. David Walker

    If I Were Beyond Saving

    Some days I think I am. Truly – often
    I think things are hopeless. But we’re
    on this seesaw with rocks balancing
    our weight, and I know that if ever my
    throwing arm isn’t true, yours always
    will be.

  40. J.lynn Sheridan

    “If I Were Better at Being Human”

    Time might heal all wounds
    and Wounds might heal lost time
    if I were better at crying about the empty
    messes inside my heart rather than messing
    up my heart with things to cry about.
    Time might not be
    the enemy if I were smarter about fixing
    and wiser about when to fix. If I were aware
    of when to give and when to take before I have
    no more friends to give to or take from,

    Maybe I wouldn’t live on the defense like I do now.
    Maybe I could live in the center of right
    and leave behind woundings if I were better
    at being human. If I were better at leaking my
    pride rather than saving it.

  41. mfitts847@gmail.com

    If I Were The Girl I Wanna Be – Marie H. Fitts

    If I were the girl I wanna be
    I’d not let frustrations bother me
    I’d sit calmly in my chair
    Living Life without a care

    If I were the girl I wanna be
    I’d take better care of me
    Exercise, eat right, sleep 8 hours
    I’d do everything in my power

    To make the most of this life I’m given
    Now wondering why I’m not as driven
    When I look deep inside of me
    Why I’m not the girl I wanna be?

    I know this girl we’ve met before
    She lingers now and again at my door
    She stops by long enough for me to see
    Glimpses of who I wanna be

    She’s neat and tidy and always dressed
    Her words, soft spoken not meant to impress
    But offers encouragement when she can
    Now why is that girl not who I am?

    She’s in control of her whole being
    Missteps from her you won’t be seeing
    Because she is wise beyond her years
    She trusts in God and has no fears

    She’s certain where her life will lead
    Fame and fortune, the least of these
    Her heart is pure, her mind is set
    Living each moment with no regrets

    So I take a step back and focus my gaze
    At this girl I wanna be through the haze
    Of my blurred vision I do believe
    With a little more work that girl is me

  42. d dyson

    If I were rid of you,
    my head would feel so much lighter.
    Some label it the black dog,
    it’s more like an ever expanding grey mind –
    tired, nattered, worn
    from continuous thought clutter
    drowning from a thousand different voices
    all raising their sound.
    The overthinking leading into the realm of non-doing.
    Days piling into months, years
    all from the view from a bed.
    Yes, if I were rid of you
    I would be so much lighter in the head.

  43. PatsC

    Ego Trip

    If I were braver I’d care less,
    About what others think.
    And focus more on,
    The stillness within.

    Aging vanity,
    My outer soul harshly judged,
    The window society glances upon,
    Hastily concluding my worth.

    The hair is gray,
    The glasses thick,
    The whisker plucked,
    The elevens etched upon the brow.

    These give the appearance,
    Of someone secure,
    Confident and serene,
    Facing the outward change.

    But each morning,
    I look for the path of my face,
    travelled in my twenties.
    Reflected instead is a stranger.

  44. elysebrownell

    If I Were Home Instead of Work
    Elyse Brownell

    If I were home instead of work,
    I’d convince myself I’d get so much
    more done, like laundry
    or dishes, or finally sort my sock drawer,
    I’d hang up those pictures, sweep the floor,
    UNDER the couch,
    write a poem per dust particle, clean the
    bathroom, write those thank you cards,
    take a bath in the clean bath tub, write more
    poems, do a crossword puzzle, try a “difficult”
    Sudoku puzzle, play kenken, and more kenken,
    Draw a massive kenken board on my living room
    floor, find pink paint, fill in the kenken board with
    pink paint, call the landlord and tell them
    I refuse to pay more rent at the end of my lease,
    threaten the landlord with pink paint and the kenken board,
    play chess with my shadow, decorate the walk-in closet
    with more shoes, more shirts, more hangers, sort my closet,
    by color, by circa, by memory, sort my closet into four
    evenly distributed sections to adhere to the four seasons,
    the weeks, the primary colors, the food groups,
    dance in the shower, sing in the shower, make-up a lover’s quarrel
    dialogue between the shampoo and conditioner, decide which
    roles I would play in the shower, dry each limb of my body with
    a different towel, hang the towels on the walls like art,
    and then,
    I’d take a nap…

    But in reality,
    if I were home instead of work
    I’d still be sleeping.

  45. Heidi

    Happy birthday, Jericho!


    If I were a coywolf,
    I would sniff the
    breeze, pawing trampled
    grass, for the smell of
    Big Mac wrappers.
    I’d stalk the
    meaty-salty scent,
    and follow the
    footprint trail.

    If I were a coywolf,
    I would pack up and
    trot south along
    railroad tracks. Dodging
    trains screaming
    at bullet speeds. Tracking
    traces of boiled peanut
    and chicken grease
    doused in jasmine
    bloom to Atlanta.

    If I were a coywolf,
    after scouting city parks
    for a water supply,
    I would engineer
    a fortified den,
    hidden, in the
    hawthorn hollow of a
    briar laced thicket,
    off the busiest
    exit ramp on I-285.

    If I were a coywolf,
    I would lay low
    all day sleeping
    with my mate
    amid wood thrush
    chatter and traffic talk.
    I’d lick my paws,
    content that our home
    is safe from
    human intrusion.

    If I were a coywolf
    I’d sneak out
    at night, patrol the
    pretending I’m the
    local dog. I’d raid
    trashcans and kitty trays.
    Nabbing a duck egg
    or two from a
    golf course pond.

    If I were a coywolf,
    tomorrow night
    I’d catch the cat,
    hauling it to my lair as
    tender morsels for late
    night feedings to coypups.
    I’d relish my
    secret status and
    bask, unhindered
    in my own city plot.

    Heidi R. de Contreras

  46. Jenn Todd Lavanish

    If I were a better friend
    I would never feel alone again
    My phone would ring off the hook
    Events would fill my date book.

    I wouldn’t wonder by myself
    And stare at books upon a shelf
    Or stalk the social media online
    For my own status would be divine

    If I were a better friend
    I would have more letters to send
    My house would not be a mess
    And my life itself would not digress

    Alone is how I am fated to be
    Just because I cannot see
    My world does not go beyond my door
    And I can’t help but wish for more.

    If I were a better friend
    Maybe you won’t forget me again
    I spend my time waiting for you
    But the wait between is overdue.

    I leave a message and feel like a nag
    All I do is play phone tag
    I may as well be a book on a shelf
    Without you here I lost myself.

    If I were a better friend
    I would get to see you again
    To have you cross through my door
    Makes my house a home once more.

  47. Jaywig

    If I Were A Nineteenth Century Cartographer

    What fun I would have!
    First I would follow the Explorer
    and discover not every piece
    of territory is charmingly girt by sea.

    I would point out to kings
    and emperors the merits of lines
    that follow watersheds and rivers.
    I would paint in the colours.

    I would subdue the riotous
    and divide tribes, even villages.
    What an art! To promote
    the economy of Nationhood.

    At one with the wild beasts
    who wander freely across borders
    I’d limit the world for others, knowing
    my creation will be their posterity.

  48. jean2dubois

    by Jean Dubois

    if I were in charge of the nation
    I’d require a robot in every house in every office in every workplace
    in every bus or railway station
    a robot programmed to clean and unclutter
    every house every office every workplace every bus or railway station
    every morning at 9 am all across the nation 9 am

    my premise here no let’s call it my promise
    for I may be wrong but seldom am
    is that clean uncluttered surroundings
    produce clean uncluttered minds and hearts
    minds and hearts that do not go out on street corners and shoot people
    minds and hearts that do not graze their cattle on other peoples’ land
    minds and hearts that do not annex other peoples’ wives or girlfriends
    and probably are not pedophiles

    clean houses clean offices clean workplaces
    clean hearts clean minds
    all across the nation

  49. Snow Write

    If I were blind
    What would I see
    Within the world
    That surrounds me?

    I might lament
    The sights I miss;
    Those lovely views
    That give me bliss

    I might hone in
    On smells galore,
    Or hear the sounds
    That most ignore

    I might crave touch,
    Textures to feel,
    Or taste flavors
    That make tongues wheel

    If I were blind
    I could not see
    But I would thrive

  50. ToniBee3

    “If I Were Your Verbal Explanation Point”

    I would self-eliminate
    to reject the sting of your
    pompous commands,
    demoralizing outbursts,
    excessive expletives,
    and pathetic cries.

    Yet, if you come back to your senses…

    I would uphold my duty
    to express the zest in your
    spirited dialogue,
    resounding praises,
    celebratory surprises,
    and belly laughs.

  51. encrerouge

    If I were clothed, questions wouldn’t arise

    Vengeful clocks, of which you upon stand,
    slowly curved my shadow onto light
    simmering in gold by the curfew hand
    the pendants emerge from highest night

    Crystals hang and fingertips inflame
    membranes which are not stitches
    let the view be the thesis to blame

    You want me clothed and prickled
    inside the dust of a diamond’s guest
    where bare skin fades into the filtered
    chain screaming in your voice: rest!

    A movement provokes to be bare from the hook
    and the skin, a plate for oxygenated thoughts
    the where and why upsurge upon your look .

  52. Kevin D Young


    I’d probably fill ’er up at the Big Bang
    first, then fly for, oh, a good lil’ while
    with the engines full bore. Hang
    a hard left at Betelgeuse, mile

    marker ‘bout 640 lt-yrs, just past
    Orion. Definitely make a pit stop
    at Enceladus (outskirts of Saturn), ask
    for directions and pick up an ice pop

    and some o’ that geyser-grey
    South Pole water – the hard stuff. Wave
    at Cassini as it flies by, well past its hey-
    day by then, I reckon. Moon’s not paved

    yet, so no crater-crawlin’, Mom’ll
    get mad, your insurance rates
    will sky rocket, and Dad’ll funnel
    one of his patented tirades

    to your inbox. Keep Mars way
    to starboard. Cancel that tryst
    or risk (seriously!) being spayed
    by your Assyrian Semiramis

    (nothin’ but trouble). Just hover nigh
    on three millennia then mosey a bit west.
    At Tulsa, juke a sharp ninety degrees.
    You’ve gone too far if you hit Henryetta.

    I’d pack light.

  53. Zeenie

    if i rewound

    Voices of my past whispering
    like the hum of strange
    angels as I float backwards
    through time, recounting

    each moment of life, holding
    their presence against my wrist
    like a stolen pulse –

    reminders of what I missed,
    loved, ran from.

  54. Mustang Sal

    If I Were A Daffodil In The Lord’s Kingdom

    I would be
    hardy enough to withstand the winter,
    solid core beneath the surface,
    unafraid to break through the dark,
    not wilted by unexpected snow,
    bright yellow, reflecting His light,
    first to trumpet the Resurrection.

  55. PSC in CT

    If I were Quicker at Poetry

    If I were quicker
    at poetry
    I’d pen a poem
    or two
    or three
    or four –
    and maybe a dozen more –
    then April wouldn’t be such a chore.

    But I’m NOT quick;
    I’m slow and wan.
    (I have some days to catch up on.)

    But if I were blank,
    here’s what I’d do:
    I’d post THIS poem
    and say,
    “I’m through!”

    And so, “I’m through!”; that’s what I say.

    (That is,
    at least,
    through yesterday.)


  56. emmaisan0wl

    If I Were Real/The Lament Of An Imaginary Friend
    if I were real
    the world would feel me
    like a static shock.

    I would leave it tingling,

    I would dip my toes into rivers
    and cause tidal waves
    if I were real
    if I were real

    my fingers would leave goosebumps
    on your waiting skin,

    would trace your lips
    the lines on your palms
    the whorls of your ears
    if I were real

    but you pass right through me,
    and the silence from my invisible lips
    drives in the dagger that
    I am not real.
    I am not real at all.

  57. lidywilks

    If I Were Superwoman

    If I were superwoman,
    with a slim middle and a busty
    front and rear, I’d speed through the air
    in a red and blue spandex and cape.
    I descend in a boom and apprehend
    criminals, before shooting back up with
    luggage crying for their momma,
    on their way to jail. Unfortunately I’m a normal,
    can’t do everything woman who goes to work,
    donning my best business casual outfit
    that hides the drooping house my children
    once lived in, to answer the crying trills from
    the phone, cloning memos, agreements and the like,
    fingers clicking along the keyboard until my fingers twitch,
    until I’m freed by the clock’s strike to an evening at home,
    winding down by bringing spring to every corner, preparing
    a luscious banquet for all to enjoy, children swaddled and
    ready to meet the sandman and work to head start on
    before I sleep.

    by Lidy Wilks

  58. sbpoet

    If I Were

    Dead, the earth closes behind
    me with a snap! Few notice

    my absence. This house
    empties out, paintings

    and china scattered among
    friends and strangers. The cloud

    slowly swallows my poems
    and pictures as domains die

    and bills go unpaid. The house
    opens to new tenants, garden

    paved over for a table; a child,
    perhaps, in the upstairs

    bedroom. Quite quickly, those
    who knew my name follow

    to where I am not.

    ~ sharon brogan

  59. MMC

    Wishful A-Muse-Ment

    If I were Vivaldi, Mozart or Bach,
    my place in history would be assured.
    No longer would I fear time’s wingèd clock
    nor hesitate to play my flute with pure
    belief that its sweet tones would render still
    great fame and surest fortune to the player.
    If I could trade my talents for these skilled
    ones, whose music yet stirs listening ears
    with its immortal song, I’d ask no more
    of any of the Muses. Then I’d fly
    on clouds of glory – shades of old John Keats!
    and claim my place without the need to vie
    with those whose poems are sure to please.
    But lack of self-assurance knows no bounds –
    I’d wonder still if I could make those sounds.

  60. Pengame30

    “If I were a girl”

    I would be soft and curvy.
    When I walked, paths ahead of me cleared.
    My hair would flow down my back, with a shine
    that could render any man blind.
    Winds would caress my body in the midst of a heatwave,
    and people would stare in awe of my coolness,
    as their clothes drenched in sweat.
    Light would shine upon me in the darkest of hours,
    while others wondered of the source of my power.
    The only hand laid on me by a man,
    would be of gentle touch.
    Anything I asked of him, he’d make sure it was done out of love.
    He’d never take out his anger on me, and be mean,
    but treat me with love and respect, as if I were a Queen.

    Written By: Sean Drew

  61. Karen H. Phillips

    Day 14

    Write a poem entitled “If I Were ______.”

    If I Were Any More Blessed, I’d Be a Song

    Year after year, the thought has struck me:
    If I died today, I’ve already experienced at least
    two dozen springs
    view from the Eiffel Tower
    my mom and grandmother’s food–tastiest on
    this planet
    love of Jesus pure and strong
    family love in idyllic childhood
    my husband’s adoration
    two children who challenged, amused, and grew me
    joys of putting my thoughts and feelings on paper
    four grandchildren by way of claiming an extra daughter
    a precious granddaughter toddling with me in tow
    singing in the choir, voices blended in praise of our Lord
    a sweet dachshund and a procession of cat characters
    white sand and turquoise water under my feet
    fresh mountain air in my nostrils
    endless conversations with writer friends and fellow believers
    discussions and debates with skeptics and cynics
    (our son among them).

    Myriad moments and delightful days
    tragic times, days of depression,
    all poured into a composition of blessing,
    the music of my life, so rich, so full.

    If I were any more blessed, I’d be a song.

  62. Angie5804

    If I were thin
    I would not be in the shape I’m in

    If I were wealthy
    I’d give away money
    but I’d be stealthy

    If I were a person who could sing
    Just think of all the joy I’d bring

    If I were a little taller
    I’d reach things for all those
    who are smaller

    If I were fast
    I wouldn’t always be last

    If I were a poet
    oh, but I am
    don’t you know it?

  63. brendam

    If I were but a dream…

    If I were but a dream
    Of hopes and fears and promises
    I would float through the nights
    And whisper what could have been,
    What might yet be,
    And what is still to come.
    I’d dart among the flowers,
    Race among the stars,
    Then dance among lily pads
    And giggle with the frogs.

  64. Amy

    If I Were Rain

    If I were the tireless rain,
    slapping heavy on spring earth,
    giving birth to sweet refrain,
    would I be absolved of grief
    that bends the backs of boughs,
    curved in their weeping passage?

    I’d mark the steady passage
    of each drop, a ghost, a reign
    of shadow-rule, with deep bows
    from trembling leaves on green earth,
    were it not for my own grief-
    stricken limbs, folded in refrain.

    If I were latent sun, I would refrain
    from rain-soaked pouts, the passage
    of profuse cloud reminding me to hide grief
    in crystal tears, meant not to rain
    upon an already downtrodden earth
    but instead to whet budding boughs.

    I’d dip behind now-darkened bough
    and sing of sister moon- a rising refrain-
    come to set blood fire on the earth
    and lie in the lap of wooded passage.
    I would admire the rain
    for its terrestrial grief.

    If I were the willow, bearing grief
    like it was the marrow of bone-boughs,
    I would wash in the rain
    and listen to the widows’ refrain
    of pain and passage
    over the marbled earth.

    Bound to that earth
    just the same as stony grief,
    I’d weep a watery passage
    and build it up from bowed
    bones, wrap it in a misty refrain;
    I would befriend the rain.

    If I were as raindrops falling, failing to the earth,
    just one voice in spring refrain, the grief
    of all things would carry me to break upon boughs in ending passage.

  65. lethejerome

    “If I Were Something Else”

    with eyes outside my head,
    Lucky to be among friends allies blood donors
    Who with hesitation invoke class gender race,
    Shadows would follow me, stick to my legs and back;
    Authority would walk fifty paces ahead,
    Will to disappear in waiting around corners
    Unless I until I were to quicken my pace,
    Running into statements of less loss lull lob lack,
    Surrounded by beauty, the designed in dozens,
    Dined and defined, driven, placed between them in drawers,
    Placed between them and doors, doorstop of marbled lead,
    Admired, rarely fed, recognized in made haste,
    Knowing speaking defaced – eloquence of the sacked,
    Of burlap off the rack – thought of as something else.

    Jérôme Melançon

  66. Delaina Miller

    If I Were the Moon

    I would hear the whispers of lovers
    and keep secrets safe.

    I would light up the stars
    so the lost would never lose their place.

    I would comfort the lonely
    with moonbeams dancing through trees.

    Absolute darkness would not blind
    the heart to beauty yet to be seen.

    I would hold the tide
    before I let you drown.

    I would light a path throughout the night
    so answers to prayers could be found.

    I would inspire your dreams
    then give you the sun.

  67. jean

    If I were a little more organized,
    Perhaps I’d not get so demoralized
    By the boxes and piles
    Never purged, never filed
    That measure between the floor and eyes!

    If I were a little more focused,
    I’d buzz through that room like a locust
    My partner’s sweet gratitude
    From that change in attitude
    Will translate to me being so kissed!

  68. Erynn

    “If I were richer”

    If I had more money
    I could soar the skies
    Not worry about tomorrow
    Or having to compromise

    If I had more money
    I could travel the land
    Go everywhere I want
    Now wouldn’t that be grand

    If I had more money
    I could get my degree
    Be smarter than the average Joe
    And let my knowledge free

    If I had more money
    My family would be set
    Every day we’d live like Kings
    And spread the love to everyone we met

    If I had more money
    My dreams would come true
    I’d be as happy as could be
    If money wasn’t an issue

  69. CrashHiker

    I haven’t written a sonnet in a while, but here goes . . .

    If I Were Found Within Tempest’ous Skies

    If I were found within tempest’ous skies,
    celestial gondolier of passion’s whim,
    I’d seek encounters with tremendous lies
    to finally discover you again.
    In time I might not want to find whats left;
    tattered remains of our once buoyant hope,
    our now defunct dirigible, bereft
    of light’ning joy, now flaccid tangled rope.
    The once majestic harbinger of dreams
    laid low by the tempest of winter’s cold
    could still alight if passion’s warming beams
    the wanton fabric of our lives extolled
    Into the tumult clouds our passions climb
    a fouled flight surreptitiously sublime.

  70. Richard Fenwick

    If I Were My Son’s Age

    I’d be twenty two again, with skin
    as tight as a floor tom, eyes like
    the tide pools at Laguna.

    My mind would be an open pipe
    to Eliot and Pound, their vagaries
    more mystery than understood,

    and to the soft love of Whitman,
    the transient image of Lorca,
    both keeping me awake, night

    by night, back and forth from
    bed to book in the pattern
    that crossed my sky like a moon.

    I’d have yet to test out love,
    with its knife-like pains, the heat
    of its blossoms, the way it wilts

    more often than it thrives
    when your are twenty two, the way
    it salts the air, and the wounds.

    Soon, I’d take to scribbling
    those protoplasmic poems
    whose edges won’t be sharp,

    or round, whose line lengths
    will hesitate, like the new poet
    hesitating at the words as well.

    But mostly, if I were twenty two,
    I’d be used to the beauty of
    this right and often unjust life,

    struggling to let the past be
    a whisper, and the future a wind
    scheduled to arrive tomorrow.

  71. Shennon

    (I couldn’t get the italics to work for the Spanish words.) :(

    If I were better at Spanish

    If I were better at Spanish,
    My grade might be higher than D.
    I wouldn’t dread that class all day
    In horror and grim misery.

    If I could conjugate verbs,
    I’d be at the head of my class.
    Then I’d be Señora’s “pet”,
    Knocking “Rey Pedro” on his “as-

    -no”, means donkey, I remember that well.
    Other words disappear in a haze.
    Señora says Spanish is like a puzzle,
    But for me, an unending maze.

    Maybe I’ll get a hot tutor.
    “Me gusta” this plan of mine.
    To properly impress him,
    I may no longer act supine.

    I’ll conjugate verbs,
    Learn grammar with ease.
    I’ll understand the reason,
    “No hay” apostrophes.

    Señora wouldn’t shake her head.
    She’d listen intently to me.
    Instead of saying “Ay Dios”
    She’d be yelling “¡Claro que sí!”

    So take that “Rey Pedro”.
    I snub you with my thumb.
    If I were better at Spanish,
    The rest of the class would look dumb.


  72. Michael Wells

    Blood Moon 4.14.14

    If I were the moon
    for this one night
    I would hold you captive

    I would slowly from left to right
    disappear into the night
    right before your eyes

    Then in greater mystique
    I would return from darkness
    flush with burnt red

    If I were the moon on this night

  73. Andrea

    If I Were in Your Shoes

    If I were in your shoes

    I would have the baby
    save the animals
    never shoot the robber

    I would love
    your age, race, creed, color, sex,
    national origin, religion, sexual orientation,
    gender identity, disability, marital status,
    and socioeconomic status

    I wouldn’t ask, nor would I tell

    That is, if I were in your shoes;
    My shoes are exempt from walking

  74. CLShaffer

    If I Were Not A Poet by C. Lynn Shaffer

    I have charted for months
    the slow destruction of a sparrow
    somehow caged beneath
    the grate of our heating unit.
    He must have not been there long
    when I first saw him. His little eyes,
    now hazy as a smudge of sun in fog,
    still shone, the smooth
    continuity of his feathers
    unbroken. If I could have reached him
    he would have felt in my palm
    full of the possibility of flight
    as if to shake free
    death’s hold and push off.
    The ants have arrived and are
    stirring him to movement.
    Soon he will be light
    as a cicada husk but
    the soul has broken open,
    flexed its new wet wings
    and left this earth
    for someplace else I hope.
    Yes, even now his body
    contrasts against another blue sky
    as sharply as back here his bones
    pierce the vision with their whiteness.

  75. gus

    Day 14: If I Were Free

    To be exactly who I am,
    Whoever that may be;

    If I were free to be me,
    I’d be the best me I can.
    I would fly to the moon
    And dance among the stars.

    No worries or struggles,
    Just me being me,
    And not having to worry
    About being brought down.

    With no one to bug me,
    They all let me be.
    That’s the life I’d imagine having
    If I were truly free.

    -Gus Gonzalez

  76. RebekahJ

    Happy belated birthday to Jericho, and many thanks to both you and Robert for helping us learn and enjoy so much this month. I am not sure if you really like sonnets, but just in case, here’s one.

    Living Water

    He came to a town in Samaria, where Jacob’s well was. Tired as he was from the journey, he sat down by the well. And a Samaritan woman came to draw water.
    From John 4

    If I were married, how could I be here
    Alone? I said. His black eyes shone. He rose
    And laid his workman’s hand upon the stone.
    A drink, he asked. I held the cup so near
    His lips I felt their heat. He said, men fear
    The water that could satisfy their souls.
    Do you? I watched the warm wind blow his robe
    Against his skin. I said, I’ve ears to hear

    Just then the others came, and though he smiled
    To see his men, he did not turn from me
    Stood with me, woman-stranger, in the sun

    There were a thousand like him in those days
    All swearing with great passion, “I am he”
    But in my memory, he’s the only one

  77. Reynard

    if I were a dog
    I would hope
    I would not get a family
    that chains me
    or forgets me
    I think I would rather be
    than left isolated and alone

    if were a dog
    I would want a family
    who took me with
    them on vacation
    and bought me toys
    I think I would rather be
    hit sometimes
    than be left for days
    wondering where
    they went
    and if they would return

    If I were a dog
    I would never want to be
    in an animal shelter
    even if a new baby was born
    or someone went to school
    I would want my family to
    keep me

    I would be terrified –

    if I were a dog
    imagine being left to the whims
    of fickle humans
    to decide when you eat or are
    given water
    imagine watching them worried
    about a game on their phones
    or computers
    while I sit un- walked and
    un- played with
    watching them with loving,
    adoring eyes
    to me they are a god
    but what if to them
    I was just
    a dog

  78. jsmadge

    If I Were Empty

    If I were empty,
    I’d soar through the swamps
    that happen even in
    the best of families.
    I’d be an invisible raptor bird
    of peace – how’s that for impossible –
    often mistaken for a thermal,
    that spiraling upward wind
    so delicious, so fervent;
    an unseen dervish on her way
    to better things – those palaces
    of emeralds and turkish delight,
    domed cities, clear pools enclosed
    by blue tiles, green palms;
    the veiled flutter of a fairy tale.

    Jo Steigerwald

  79. drwasy

    If I were younger

    but know what I know
    now, I might not love
    you with closed heart,
    might not accept
    what comes to me
    like leaves down a stream.
    If I were younger,
    I might embrace you
    with arms open
    or perhaps, knowing
    now, never worn
    the band circling
    my finger.

  80. robinamelia

    14 If I were

    If I were not here, where would I be? In some alternate dimension, causing repercussions to echo back through into time’s seed? Hitting smack into Einstein then Adam.

    Try to picture me in some swirling intergalactic penthouse.

    If I were to offer you advice, I would be a fool, because most everything you do is in direct opposition to good counsel, yet the consternation with which you examine past decisions is sincere: endearing in its way.

    Certainty is the only religion we need fear.

    If I were the hating type, I’d soar, or submarine through the earth’s core, I’ve got that much fuel, fodder of jealousy or envy, so hard to distinguish, but let’s not quibble.

    If we can’t have faith, we’ll make do with good seats for the execution.

    Robin Amelia Morris

  81. BDP

    “If I Were There Once More”

    Here she comes down—her sickness, skin shadow.
    On each of the last four risers she halts.
    And whispers once, “I’ve missed you, it’s good now.”

    The floor I stand on melts to streamside, walls
    a grove of poplar leaves, white-green, they dance,
    she steps on wobbly stone, and almost falls,

    arms wide for balancing. “Mom, grab a branch!”
    I hope my words will steady her. Dense air
    resists them: muffles shouts, my voice, a chance

    to save her. She comes down, one step, one stair.
    That’s when her flaws are perfect just because
    they’re hers. Each deep breath, one more tread, she’s here,

    the table’s laid, I serve her tea, time pause,
    a locket lens, I have her as it was.

    –Barb Peters

  82. Poetess

    If I Were A Yellow Butterfly

    i see me flying fluttering around in the air
    i landed on a tree limb and looked around
    wondering where will i go next
    where will i land where my wings take me…there
    to the adventure of my flight
    to you to us to this place in the air i must go…here
    if I were a yellow butterfly

  83. FaerieTalePoet

    If I Were a Fairy Tale Princess

    If I were a fairy tale princess
    I would never be Cinderella,
    scrubbing floors just isn’t my thing
    and I didn’t even go to prom
    I’d never be the belle of the ball
    plus I’m just not that into shoes.

    If I were a fairy tale princess
    I’d never co-star with a pea,
    I am an incredibly deep sleeper
    I’ve even fallen asleep on my phone
    and didn’t wake when it vibrated
    that pea wouldn’t bother me one bit
    and I’m not sure how I’d climb to the top
    of all those mattresses.

    If I were a fairy tale princess,
    I’d never be Snow White
    my hair is more gold than black,
    and at 4’ll” I’m practically a dwarf myself,
    plus I’d never live with seven men
    I don’t even like sharing a bathroom
    with my 16 year old son.

    If I were a fairy tale princess
    I’d never be the little mermaid
    I’m not a very good swimmer,
    plus I’d never give up my voice
    at least not for any man.

    If I were a fairy tale princess
    I’d never be the one who kissed a frog
    I don’t like playing with balls,
    I’d rather be reading
    plus I’ve never tried hallucinogens
    and kissing a frog is too much like
    licking a toad.

    If I were a fairy tale princess
    I wouldn’t be sleeping beauty.
    Born to an atheist and a Jew
    I had no Christening,
    so there was no way to offend
    an evil fairy and invite the curse.

    If I were a fairy tale princess
    I would never be Rapunzel.
    The longer my hair grows
    the more tangled it gets
    and as a girl I hated brushing it
    my tender scalp would never tolerate
    a hundred strokes a day.

    If I were a fairy tale princess
    I would be beauty
    from beauty and the beast
    I’ve never seen myself
    as particularly pretty
    and in all the tales
    she doesn’t know her own beauty.
    plus what I wouldn’t give
    for that library.

    Dana A. Campbell

  84. GarrinJost

    If I Were Not

    You must see how we stare,
    So why don’t you do tricks more often?
    I wish I were more like you,
    But I am glad to be myself.
    If I were not,
    Then someone else certainly would not be.

  85. AC Leming

    I had fun with this one…

    If I Were Less Ethical

    I’d be sending you explicit texts, email, letters
    about just how your body affects mine —
    those striated shoulders, the long line
    of your lats, those legs. I’ve never had
    a leg fetish before yours. I’m a back and butt
    girl, and goddamn, yours are just about perfect.
    I’ve seen just about every glorious inch
    of your skin — before I fired you,
    before we got to be friends.

    But I’m ethical
    and my conscience twinges
    every time we flirt a little too aggressively,
    stick a toe or tongue across the line
    we both are careful not to totally,
    irrevocably cross.

    Now I know I lean too heavily
    on the way you make me feel alive,
    on the project I started, focused on you.
    Part of me shrills the alarm, this is too intense,
    too fast, it’s gonna implode. Part of me
    wants to enjoy the ride until it does.

    All of me can’t get enough of you.
    Content to fill a void with whatever attention
    you spare me, I know it’s a temporary fix
    in need of a permanent solution.

  86. Linda Hatton

    If I Were a Moon

    I wouldn’t be a man at all—just eyes
    of a woman with eyelashes thinned
    from witnessing your life of seclusion.
    You, surrounded by glass stemware, red-filled
    evenings with those you call friends,
    blasé about every plump and luscious cell
    pumping through your skin, pretending
    not to be universally selfish, caring
    only for trendy atmospheres they breathe
    and eat, scuffed wooden stages, lipstick-
    stained pages of sheet music left behind
    in dressing rooms. They live unaware of existence
    beyond their Friday nights on earth, nonchalant
    about you who I love and adore, bitter about the space
    you call home. Now I’ve drifted away,
    we’ve never been. We can be nevermore.

    –Linda G Hatton

  87. Khara House

    If I were any more myself

    I chew a cave within my tomatoed cheek
    to tuck away my secrets in. Intimacies of fingers
    Pressed into a stranger’s bones, a scent that lingers
    and perfumes this flat. I pull a head of chicory,
    radicchio, and season the hall with spices indiscrete—
    a pinch of hair, a trace of spine, a laugh of hickory
    all stirred together without much trickery
    between a chicken and a collar bone.
    This is my own secret recipe: a taste of spoken tongues
    that wiser men have known to leave alone
    commemorating where my bare feet have gone
    to find, to know, unwind, and bind myself:
    This is where my self-same shadow comes
    to fill again my selfhood in these lungs.

  88. C.

    If I think of “if”, I’ll find myself wondering what if means today
    Coming and going, over and over, in so many peculiar ways
    And truth be told, really, I think if makes us all feel a little eery.
    From nine to five, the drums beat war, and we’re all a little wearied

    Since, I think, it’s a well-known fact- we all do keep our doubts
    Hung up inside like a picture framed, yet haunting our whereabouts.
    We walk quicker, but don’t know why, wondering now if those were dodging eyes
    Asking uncertainties like shoulda, woulda, coulda, and what if I had tried?

    Although, some may choose to ignore this what if like a messaged bottle
    Emptying first the liquor, though, to be sure they appear a model
    Who will choose this time this what if a white lie makes other people smile;
    Would we sit as if thirteen, with broken faces still spinning all the while?

    And what if we could escape all that? What if some of us could change?
    What if this is all in my head? What if no one else actually thinks this way?
    A blank canvas still will sit, as if living in the shadows, as if buried bit by bit
    As if a paralyzed choice you see, still did choose itself- a grey canvas with haunted eyes

    Asking always, what if I were me?

    “If I were me”

  89. gmagrady


    humming hymns of suffering
    ballads kept from old countries
    would echo in hills of majesty
    if i were a song

    a burial burden, with babe on her knee,
    through wind and reed, she struggles to breathe,
    her ain deep sorrow she’d cry for relief
    if i were a song

    if i were a song in lands of ole
    if i were a song ‘cross seas of gold
    if i were a song the story’d be told
    of life

    fiddling fingers bow with ease
    and feel the fret below the strings
    feminine frocks would fly in the breeze
    if I were a song

    workin’ twelve hours in the factory
    the kids and the bills give no reprieve
    she’d dance in the morn with no worries
    if i were a song

    if i were a song in lands of ole
    if i were a song ‘cross seas of gold
    if i were a song the story’d be told
    of life

    if i were a song, I’d pray to Thee,
    go back to the roots of pained melody
    but I’d sprinkle some hope for what will be
    when heaven opens it’s gate for me

    And I’d sing for all eternity
    yes, I’d sing for all eternity
    if i were a song

  90. cam45237

    Eclipse, April 15.2014, morning

    If I were to wake
    as 12:53 this morning
    I would find the moon
    a disc expectant,
    ready for the orb of earth
    to drift within the line of vision
    from moon to sun, the mirror of the moon
    to vanish in that instant from the sky

    Mists rise and writhe among black branches
    wrench free from grasp of the trees
    and float like chimney smoke into the atmosphere

    A boy with a black dog
    leans against a lampost
    waits in earnest for the edges of the moon
    to fall away
    in shadow, cast from left to right

    A girl with blankets wrapped around her shoulders
    impatient waits for changes
    slow to come
    the moon and sun and earth maintain
    their pensive pace
    Despite her shivers and her sighs

    The telescope splays on the roof of the car
    squinting through the dime-store optics
    produces nothing but a blur of white
    so all eyes turn upwards
    to watch the night lose light
    in increments
    until the moon is gone.

  91. Scott Jacobson


    Not easy at first, but I get to walk
    through all your bedroom walls
    and enjoy all those private moments
    that I have never seen before.
    How you cry during wrestling
    and generously leave the crows
    the crust of your strawberry pop tarts.
    When I get bored I move your keys
    from one table to another to see
    the smile you give when they are found.
    I love watching you sleep from the ceiling
    and not worring about the fall.
    When you go on girl’s night out
    I pour myself in your shot glass
    and as you imbibe me we share
    the memory of all our long
    wet sloppy drunken kisses
    and I remember all the things
    I miss about being alive.

  92. alan1704

    If I were in paradise
    The moment of ecstasy
    Deliciously dreaming
    Struggled and screaming
    Fleeting and fated
    Sudden shape scream
    Fear lingers
    The winter night long
    What can restore
    The joy of the summer
    As the sun begins to set.

  93. lionmother

    If I Were Able to Fly

    I’d soar with no thought of fear
    for my wings would be unfurled
    free and strong in the air
    supporting me as I hovered
    over the Earth.

    I’d peer down at the beauty
    on the ground and be on
    the lookout for goodness
    which would waft up
    towards me in a delightful
    aroma as I passed over the
    houses of the good people

    Unlike the other passover when
    the goal was to smite all the
    firstborn children of what He
    considered evil ones
    and therefore eradicate the
    whole evil population in one night

    My flying over would be a fun affair
    with balloons going down to the
    ones who thought about others
    and had no cares for themselves
    along with lots of chocolate, because
    who doesn’t want that?

    I’d swoop over cities and towns and
    villages in my search dropping the
    goodies and landing on the ground
    to distribute them all to the deserving

  94. muse60

    If I Were the Voice in Your Head

    If I were the voice in your head
    The whisper you could not silence
    The tape recorder that replayed
    Every hurtful thing you’d ever said
    I’d read that transcript over and over
    Amplify it and staple it to your ears
    Never let you forget the words you spat
    Throughout your lifetime
    To reacquaint you with your venom
    Like a murderer sealed in a prison cell
    The walls lined with pictures of your victims
    Their children and loved ones
    To make you taste the blood you spilled
    So callous and remorseless
    Those words spoken, then forgotten
    If I were the voice in your head
    I would never stop speaking
    Not even to take a breath

  95. KS20x1

    Things To Consider
    by Kelley Stephens

    Maybe if I were a stronger girl
    fought harder
    came with a poison label

    If I were quieter
    a dirtier talker
    less red wailing siren
    more casual

    If I were to focus on you more
    more supportive
    applauded for the hundredth encore
    more peppy cheerleader

    Maybe if I didn’t require so much time
    seeing you less than one night a week
    stopped begging you to read my poetry
    less of a show steal-er
    treated you more like a celebrity
    less love me, love me
    more like a groupie

    If I had more self respect
    let you continue to play me like
    a character on a game
    be more of a puppet on a string
    your midnight Sunday play thing

    What if I were more shut off
    cold hearted and eager to ignore
    more silence is golden
    rising like the first Digiorno pizza

    Sorry inside thing

    What if I were more virginal
    like when you first met me
    before we played doctor

    More capable
    of correctly handling an abortion
    correctly like a ‘normal’ person
    like it was a ‘normal’ thing

    If I were to have kept the unborn
    like I kept you inside of me
    like I kept your fluid inside of me

    I don’t know how this could be but
    if I were more dependent
    had less money
    or if I were the opposite

    If I were savable
    more agreeable
    less helpless
    violent with my wrists

    Less ‘mysterious’
    or more ‘mysterious’
    less confused
    ‘mystery’ once ‘beautiful’
    but when you twisted it to suit you
    my ‘secrets’ became ugly
    I still don’t get it

    Maybe if I were more of a homebody
    or wait, had a hobby
    or wait, wasn’t so busy
    or wait, wasn’t so lonely
    or wait, wasn’t so needy

    If I were more open
    even though you came and went
    in and out
    of every part of my being

    If I were less pessimistic
    because lets face it –
    you gave me a million things
    to be more positive about

    More honest
    less sarcastic
    more demure
    less sarcastic
    more vulnerable
    did I say
    less sarcastic

    Less hazardous
    more took care of business
    when bored, sick, horny or upset

    what if
    I were myself
    all of this
    the whole package
    the real thing
    if I were that
    what then

    Not so confused about who I am
    or what you want from me

    Last thing to consider
    before I ‘leave you be’
    what if I were anybody but me
    would you love me
    tell me

    Why did you leave me then?


  96. Shell

    If I Were
    But Shell Ochsner

    What if I were a cat?

    Would you take care?

    Would you even try?

    What if I were a tree?

    Would I grow magnificent and tall?

    Would my leaves be abundant?

    What if I were old?

    Would your eyes wander by?

    Would I be left to die alone?

    I love to much.

  97. phocus

    If I were more relaxed

    If I were more relaxed
    I would not get mad so quickly and
    probably would not say things that I regret later.
    I would not lose my patience and
    be better at taking childish anger, screaming, tantrums and dirt at ease;
    maybe even with a smile on my face.

    If I were more relaxed,
    I would maybe laugh more and stress less.

    But I would also not be so efficient;
    the house would be less tidy and clean.
    I would achieve far less in the time that I work for money
    and my kids would not get to school on time or
    eat freshly made breakfasts and healthy lunches every day.
    They would maybe have to wear unclean clothes
    or leave for school with open hair, in danger of catching lice.
    They would make the walls dirty with their unwashed hands,
    surely watch much more TV,
    and wear dirty shoes in the house.
    They may never again practice their instruments
    and play computer games non-stop.
    They would not bathe every day
    and skip their homework more than once.
    They’ll probably gain a lot of weight,
    carry various types of bacteria
    and have first holes in their teeth.

    But would they be better people?
    Would they be better off?
    –Just because I would be more relaxed and less bossy?
    Oh, I don’t think so.

    My husband would be happy, initially,
    if I never lost my temper.
    He would enjoy the quiet absence
    of my screams and the loud resistance that usually follows.
    But then–just like me –he would
    not be able to relax a minute in the mess it would entail.

    ©Uta Raina, April 2014

  98. Astrid Egger

    If I were your yoga mat

    If I were your yoga mat
    I would want you to come
    clean about all the times
    you abandoned me in the
    corner, subjected me to
    the ridicule of your bolsters
    stuffed with seagrass and
    He treats her like his
    sticky mat, they said.
    I am a yoga mat and carry
    myself -and whatever you
    put on me – with pride.
    The least you could do is
    declare our association
    by putting your initials
    on my cobalt blue surface,
    the corner will do, so that I
    won’t be passed around
    at the next retreat, and
    risk ending up in the back
    of a black SUV, next to
    some kids hockey stick.
    I do insist on regular
    spraying, so as to avoid
    the odor of your beads
    of sweat. Your teacher’s
    no scent policy includes
    no toejams..
    If I were your yoga mat
    I promise you instant
    feedback about how
    well your arm balances
    are going: see my
    deep indentations?
    You are putting too much
    pressure on your elbows
    as you invert into the
    Peacock’s Tail Feather.
    And we would have to
    come to an agreement
    that I won’t double up as a
    kneeling pad for your plumbing
    emergencies, or laying
    down a hardwood floor.
    Ready to accompany you
    on your business trips,
    I’ll let you roll me if you
    won’t invest in a tote for me,
    because that is just too chi-chi,
    but do not try to coerce me
    into an accordion fold and then
    squeeze me into your suitcase.
    I will always spring back at you.
    And having your cat scratch
    at my surface is out of the
    question. Why does he get
    to be in your way as much
    as he does?
    If I were your yoga mat
    I would support you
    hands (and feet) down
    or help open up your chest
    as you lay on me, ready for
    pranayama .
    Now bow to my supple body
    and practice with me.

  99. sallenwright

    If I Were Enlightened

    I wouldn’t sit up late at night
    Pondering the
    Rising of the Sun

    I wouldn’t wake with a start
    My safety net
    Come undone

    Maybe I’d stop asking
    Questions altogether
    And just Be

    Maybe I’d see you with
    My Third Eye

    Maybe you in turn
    Would see me

    As more than just body
    and mind
    But soul and spirit free


    If I were enlightened

    I’d be able to see
    Beyond I

  100. Rosemary Nissen-Wade

    If I Were Writing in Sanskrit

    I’d make curlicues and flourishes.
    It would sound aloud
    quite different from English. if.

    My Mum said she topped the class
    in Sanskrit; showed me old notebooks
    in her schoolgirl script.

    Poor little Anglo-Indian girl,
    she didn’t want to be mixed,
    liked to be thought Colonial.

    Me, I look white, but I’d have liked
    long black hair, dark eyes,
    and a smooth brown skin.

    Product of my locality and time,
    I disapprove of Colonial,
    and I sometimes think

    I’d like to have learned to write Sanskrit
    in a schoolyard under banyan trees
    in Puri in Orissa long ago …

  101. GirlGriot

    Coming back to the prompts tonight. Happy Birthday, Maestro Brown!

    If I Were Easy

    breeze across
    my face, my skin —
    magnolia air.
    whisper of
    “Finally spring!”
    If I were easy,
    give in —
    let that song
    dance through me. Let
    its dreams fill my heart.

    (The form is called an Arun. An Arun is a 15-line poem with the syllable count 1/2/3/4/5 — 3x. It may be a new thing in the world, made up by me last year. “Arun” means “five” in Yoruba.)

  102. Deri

    If I Were Rich

    I could buy
    fancy clothes and pay
    a personal trainer
    so they’d look good
    on me.

    I could buy
    a large house and pay
    a maid to clean it
    so I wouldn’t
    have to.

    I could buy
    a new car and pay
    other people
    to wash and care
    for it.

    I could buy
    the latest electronics and pay
    a pimply teenager
    to teach how to
    use them.

    I could buy
    so many things.
    None of them
    would improve
    my life.

  103. Clark Buffington

    If I were unafraid

    If I were unafraid
    I’d write my stories
    hold them up to the light
    for all to see and read

    If I were unafraid
    I’d pen my poems
    read them aloud in the day
    for all to hear and feel

    If I were unafraid
    I’d make my furniture
    placing it on display
    for all to touch and use

    If I were unafraid
    I’d create and make
    showing the world
    for all to enjoy or not

  104. youarehome

    -if i were brave (or just really stupid)-

    i would dial your number on this new phone
    that doesn’t know it yet.

    i know it’s not supposed to be like this. i’m not
    supposed to miss you like an oxygen tank
    anymore, but it’s been really hard to find air
    lately. it’s not that i can’t breathe without you, it’s just
    that it’s hard. this should be miles behind
    me, but i haven’t gotten very far with these lungs.

    it’s just that from here, you look like a lighthouse,
    and i have never been this shipwrecked. maybe
    if i were a little closer to shore, i would see that you’re just
    an abandoned house with the lights left
    on, but i’m not that whole yet.

    i keep thinking you’re the only person who can fill
    this glass outline, and goddamn, it’s hard to find
    a heartbeat when i’m this transparent,
    if i had a different body, maybe i wouldn’t miss you
    so much my forearms ache with waiting
    for you to come home. come home. i miss you,
    and i don’t know how not to.

    “hey you, wherever you are now.
    how is it?”

  105. Dennis W

    If I Were Organized

    If I were organized, always I’d find,
    my pen, my wallet, my watch, and my keys.
    I would have time to think things in my mind.
    If I were organized, always I’d find…
    myself goodly feeling and often kind.
    But I would not feel so very relieved.
    If I were organized, always I’d find,
    my pen, my wallet, my watch, and my keys.

    Dennis Wright, April 14, 2014.

  106. tunesmiff

    G. Smith
    If I were honest,
    I’d admit my weaknesses;
    I’d claim my strengths,
    I’d own my dreams,
    And my mistakes.

    I’d take no pride
    In my achievements,
    I wouldn’t hide
    In my victimhood.
    I would stand

    Like a man,
    Like the sinner I am,
    And admit,
    If I were honest,
    I am not honest.

  107. candy

    If I Weren’t So Tired

    If I weren’t so tired
    I’d fling virtual ink
    onto virtual pages
    and fill the screen with
    obscure words that describe
    my anguished soul.
    But time is not my friend
    and Morpheus beckons.

  108. Clark Buffington

    If I were a poet

    If I were a poet I’d write poems about our Love
    These poems would bring tears to your eyes
    And fill your heart with joy

    If I were a poet I’d write poems about our Life
    These poems would cause you to laugh
    And fill your soul with peace

    If I were a poet I’d write poems about our Future
    These poems would make you smile
    And fill your dreams with hope

  109. Funkomatic

    If I Were Twenty Pounds Lighter

    Each year like a pound of bacon
    Cooked, drained, consumed

    Each decade like a tub of butter
    Starts so full of Promise, ends up empty

    Each day like a frosted cupcake
    Sweet on top, work at the bottom

    Each marriage like a diet
    Maybe tomorrow I’ll do better

  110. amaranthe

    If I Were a Lily

    then maybe you would have noticed the grey mold:
    fungus infused tears devouring my stalk.
    Maybe you would have noticed
    slugs sleeping on my stamen;
    heavy and burdened with slime.
    Maybe you would have noticed
    the rabbits gnawing at my heart,
    and you would have protected me.
    But you thought me a cactus:
    strong enough to live sparsely
    hold droplets forever and carry them
    and not get tired.
    prickly enough to never
    feel warm bee breath on my face,
    and the sting of fear.
    But you were wrong.
    Break me open and oceans fall out
    messy, profusely, and bitter tasting.

  111. jasonlmartin

    If I Were Cursive (a start of a sestina)

    Some say penmanship is all but dead.
    Hard to argue, given all the angles,
    Straight and flat, no curves you find in cursive.
    We’ve lost the art of loops and swoops, except
    Perhaps in signatures on checks and taxes.

  112. peacegirlout

    If I Were Half the Man…

    I would have been
    Twice the cargo
    on a tightly packed ship
    Tenfold the blood stains
    on some driver’s whip
    A thousand times more likely to
    Flip my lid
    Aren’t you
    I hid
    Aren’t you glad
    I did

  113. tunesmiff

    G. Smith
    If I were the man of your dreams,
    I’d live for when you came to bed,
    For when you lay down your tired head;
    For when you drifted off to sleep,
    For when I’d kiss you long, and deep.

    If I were the man of your dreams,
    I’d live in fear of your waking up,
    Of your coffee cup,
    Of the morning sun,
    Of each new day you had to run.

    If I were the man of your dreams,
    I’d dream of being the man of your reality.

  114. Bucky Ignatius

    Sorry about the prompt, this little baby wanted out first. Might get back to the prompt later.

    Catch and Release

    There’s more than a little
    womb-envy in my passion
    for delivering poems.

    No surprise I call
    the ones that stick
    around my babies.

    There is no sex more
    memorable than hugs
    in a birthing room.

    My warmest friends
    are midwives—the best
    teachers of poetry.

    Bucky Ignatius

  115. Clark Buffington

    If I were…

    If I were not weak
    Then I would have no excuses

    If I were unbroken
    Then I would do it

    If I were whole
    Then I could do it

    If I were not crippled
    Then I would do it

    If I were not in pain
    Then I could do it

    If I were not weak
    Then I would have no excuses

  116. fahey

    If I were blank

    2014 April PAD Challenge, Day 14: Write an “If I were (blank)” poem.

    If I were blank

    I’d be a page.
    I’d follow the sort of grammar
    whose one rule is
    there are only exceptions.

    I’d feel by syntax –
    grow flustered and confused and
    babble with compounds compounding
    up, over, and beyond

    I’d be simple in declaratives.

    And I’d be able to parse any thought
    like it was a part of speech.

    If I were blank, of course,
    I would have only so much space.

    But at least, being blank,
    I can fill up with what I wish.

  117. sarahegreen

    Make Me A Wolf

    the leggings on the appalachian girl
    exiting the school bus read in all caps
    but I can’t, I’m just here in my beat up toyota
    to turn around. if I were a star I’d ask what kind
    of star she wants to be, and I’d give her
    an internship. but maybe that’s the wrong question.
    maybe it’s not about genotype but glow.
    maybe she’d just as well be a firefly, a neon star
    on a boy’s wall, light-up plankton, the sticky tape
    on a stage floor that glints green in the dark,
    the tape under the singer’s feet. “make me a star”,
    if I were a maker, which is what poet used to mean,
    I could make her anything she wants before
    somebody promises with fingers crossed
    behind his back, and demands ransom. If I were
    a shepherd, I’d know the wolves among the sheep.
    if I were a sheep, I would not follow. if I were a wolf,
    I’d make her the star I howled underneath,
    in honor of, if I believed in honor, if I could bring her
    fame with my story.

  118. tunesmiff

    G. Smith
    If I were a carpenter,
    I’d make your bed,
    From rich warm cherry,
    Where you’d lay your head.
    I’d stain it to show,
    The grain and seams,
    And pray it was worthy,
    To shelter your dreams.

    If I were a carpenter,
    I’d carve you a chest,
    And there you could store,
    Those things you love best.
    Plain and simple,
    Soft pine and pear,
    With room to hide,
    My heart somewhere.

    If I were a carpenter,
    I’d build you a house,
    Warm and secure,
    From demon and mouse.
    Mortise and tenon,
    Fitted just so,
    Dry from the rain,
    And the wind-driven snow.

    I were a carpenter,
    But alas, I am not,
    All I can offer is
    All that I’ve got.
    A wish for your comfort,
    A hope for your care,
    A home for your safety,
    With a place for me there.
    With apologies to John and June…

  119. mrs.mjbauer

    If I were rich
    My life wouldn’t change much
    I would give to the same charities
    I would still teach children
    I would live in the same house

    If I were rich
    I would have the same problems
    Cars will rust
    Clothes wear out
    People lie

    Just maybe
    If I were rich
    I wouldn’t worry
    About money so much

  120. pamelaraw

    If I Were a Pen

    I’d still be black
    but this time
    for my serious

    I’d lose myself
    in the slim
    spaces between
    desks and walls,
    force you on
    hands and knees
    to reach, stretch,
    hook the crook
    of your finger
    around me.

    I wouldn’t bleed
    on the page
    but explode
    in your pocket,
    stain starch white
    shirts and palms,
    leave no doubt
    of my mark.

  121. intheshadowofthesoul

    If I Were Not (Me)
    Lydia Flores

    I’d be stilettos on fifth avenue
    a gluttony of beauty feeding
    the desire and jealousy of them.

    A sharp tongue bird soaring and
    turning over tables to swallow
    the plate of double standards.
    wild geese, a beautiful beast.

    I’d be the king slow to submission
    I’d be steel and bone, a New York
    skyscraper, I’d hold some power.
    I’d be eve, handing you the fruit,
    you would eat it, you would enjoy it.

    white porcelain but no wish bone
    in your greedy wrinkled hands.
    a cauldron of love smoldering
    gentleness and simple sins.
    a camera’s glimmering drool.

    I’d be your mother in the kitchen
    flipping knives like pancakes
    a same day call back for the job
    an easy talent dancing to dream songs
    I’d be her, a name on the marquee.

    I’d be free, oh, a site to see
    a commodity held in delicate hands
    I’d be a name, a something, a somebody
    I’d be a dream, a star shooting across the sky
    I’d be that, a woman, maybe on some cover
    or not. If I were not me, if I were not me I’d be…

    But I am me and I’m me
    a fight, a battle, a war
    night death, black
    nigger, skin, woman
    a spark growing to flame—
    metamorphose… rise and sing
    bring the walls of jericho down.

    a subtle shift
    a quiet cat prowling
    watched and trapped.
    dark night gleaming
    but I am beautiful, you
    thirst for me, I show you stars.

    If I were not , if I were not me
    and so many things, but I am…
    me, just me, I’m me whatever that
    is and everything i say it is.

    If I were not but I am, all
    they want and don’t want
    me to be, which is me.

  122. inkysolace

    “if I were your hands”

    I would keep you glasses clean and your collars
    flat and your hair uncombed
    you would reach to your fears
    with the intent to make them obey you,
    the squirmy bugs and the cold stone walls you
    thought were too forbidding to mean future
    would follow in your wake like uncut diamonds
    waiting to fall in line with expectation

    I would rip things for you
    I would tear up your grades
    and turn your dead father’s letter’s
    into ash because I know he liked to ask for questions
    instead of favors and they were the only things you didn’t know how to create
    I saw your lips open once, and you were full of borrowed words

    I would know who you craved
    I would feel the twitch in your wrist
    when you saw the face you loved most
    I would tune an imaginary guitar
    every time you wanted to speak,
    to see color of your own creation blossom
    from veins you watched grow up

    You would touch his shoulders
    you would unbutton his jacket with precision
    of ten practiced fingers because I would have practiced for you
    I would have stolen your clothes while you were asleep
    and slipped myself through the inseams
    your hands would be ready for him before you were
    you would hold him instead of me

    I would give you one night of confidence
    filled with the strength I’ve saved up watching you enter and exit rooms
    he would feel everything I felt for you
    and I would sleep
    I would fall limp at your sides and let you rebuild what I gave you
    with your boy’s troubled smile and the behaviors you’ve learned
    you told me to forget you, after all
    and being so close to you has taught me
    to obey

  123. KiManou

    If I were…
    I’d travel back
    back in time to guide a younger me
    sit beside her on a Central Park bench
    and meditate
    hum with the birds and the bees
    take time in the pocket of a cool August breeze
    have a heart to heart dialogue with the feisty 25 year-old me
    who wanted so desperately
    to grow up and live the cookie cutter life
    good ole mom carved out for she
    The intercourse would be simple
    and to her scared vulnerable heart I would speak:

    Remove the stone that hardens you
    You are made to be soft
    You are made to be broken
    this is feeling, welcome it
    It will refine you
    Take your hands off and let His hands do the work
    Do not force anything that cannot be—when you know it will not be
    Let go of struggling and just be—graceful
    You will get what you ask for
    Powerful one,
    Therefore ask prudently and carefully
    You are sentient, trust yourself
    There are no questions—you already have the answers
    Marry someone you love and who loves you back
    Who loves the more and the less of you
    Who wants to meet you where you are and embrace you there
    Lovers don’t yell
    They whisper and act in silence
    You are perfectly made, yes perfectly!
    Be patient with yourself—life is not a race
    Be patient with beauty—it is fleeting
    Be kind to your earth
    It will reward you with daily miracles untold
    Count your blessings
    You have nothing to lose and everything to gain
    Be well in your endeavors;
    You are endless in possibilities
    You are made to thrive.
    Now go and grow. You were born for this.
    You are love.


  124. beale.alexis

    “If I Were In College”

    I’d have friends
    The University of Maryland College Park
    has over twenty thousand students
    and I refuse to believe
    that I can’t find one
    in those twenty thousand
    that will treat me better
    than I am treated in high school.

    My graduating class consists
    of two hundred and eighty students.
    I have two friends. Both of them
    are Juniors so that doesn’t do me much good
    concerning things like Prom, Beach Week,
    and other social events intended
    for seniors.

    If I were in college
    my best friend wouldn’t
    sleep with a guy I used to have a crush on.
    Or maybe she would,
    but then I’d have the option of finding
    a new best friend in a crowd
    of twenty thousand.
    I won’t be caged in with
    these robots,
    incapable of independent thought.

    If I were in college
    I’d find my way.
    I’d find a group of people
    interested in the same
    weird shit I’m interested in.
    I’d find a boy that loves poetry
    as much as I do.
    I’d find a group of girls
    that have self-respect –
    ones that wouldn’t drag me down
    with their vanity.
    I’d find friends.
    I’d find a place where I belong,
    I know it.

  125. KellyDelValle

    I am frightened, but I am learning.
    If I weren’t, I’d be like lighting-
    only striking once and taking nothing back.
    Instead I am the rain;
    exploration in my molecules and
    thunder in my heart,
    building momentum as I go.

  126. flood

    If I Were The Blood Moon Rising

    If I were
    the blood moon rising,
    I would not think twice
    before passing through
    the earth’s shadow
    tonight, if that’s what it took
    to catch your eyes and
    keep them heavenward.
    I would sacrifice the lovelorn,
    the lunar tides, and the
    all the lullabies in my name.
    I would carefully gather them all,
    drag them to every corner
    of the darkened sky; would
    scatter them like ashes, or gifts
    at the feet of every lazy god,
    and then start my pointless
    oval return to you.

  127. Sara McNulty

    If I Were A Cartoon Character

    How cool to switch
    from three-dimensional
    to two, if a steamroller
    should happen to run
    over you. Bullets are rubber,
    guns can be bent,
    and you can walk off a cliff
    without a scratch, unless
    you notice space below,
    and fall flat, sporting a bump
    on your head. Just shake yourself
    off, and pop back out again.
    If I could choose a cartoon character
    to be–no question, Bugs Bunny.

  128. nmbell

    If Were a Great Wizard

    If I were a Great Wizard
    I would cast a spell making all politicians honest
    I would create a world where money
    Was not more important than compassion
    A world where there was no child labour
    No sweatshops where people struggle to survive
    On a pittance of what their work is actually worth

    I would cast a spell to temper hate with love
    Let mankind truly cast out selfishness
    And care for each other
    Where caste and creed and skin colour
    Makes no difference

    I would cast a spell so all the riches were evenly divided
    So that no person spends more on a dinner
    Than some people earn in a year
    No communism, which has its own flaws
    But a true and common sense based equality

    But alas, I am no Great Wizard
    And the god we call Money rules us
    Even the religious organizations care more about flash
    Than starving believers

    Exchange the expensive trappings of office
    For help for the poor and the sick and the worthy
    Put a roof over the head of the homeless
    And true love in the heart

    But alas, I am no Great Wizard

    Nancy Bell

    Whew, all caught up!

  129. P.A. Beyer

    If I were a gambling man

    The river flows red beyond the reservation.
    The sun, still, finds west. At the end of the day,
    we bow our heads. The shame of our nation –
    the river flows red beyond the reservation.
    A sentence served til’ the seventh generation.
    Bound and shackled from cradle to grave.
    The river flows red. Beyond the reservation,
    the sun, still, finds west at the end of the day

  130. Natasa Bozic Grojic

    If I were a word

    If I were a word,
    I would be a spell.
    You would forget all other words but me.
    If I were a word,
    I would be a piece of art.
    My shape elegant,
    My sound music to your ears.
    If I were a word,
    I would be a riddle.
    A lifetime wouldn’t be enough
    To decode my meaning.

  131. SestinaNia

    Happy birthday Jericho (from one April-born poet to another :) )!!

    If I Were Tomorrow

    I’d bring you a vase
    of daisies just to say,
    “good morning”—and maybe
    to say, “I’m sorry,”
    because despite my
    best plans (all written
    out on graph paper,
    and diagramed, with
    annotations) I’m sure
    something will happen
    that is beyond my control.

    But I am only
    today, and the most
    I can offer for your
    tomorrow is to cradle
    you as you dream
    and leave you with
    a parting kiss.

    — Sara Doyle

  132. Nancy Posey

    If I Were You

    If I were you, I’d pack up all I owned,
    I’d blow this one-horse town, I’d head
    a million miles away, no looking back.

    If I were you, I’d wipe the slate clean,
    take some risks, hole up somewhere
    with a stack of notebooks and a pen.

    If I were you, I’d take my time, commit
    my lovely words to paper, let them sing,
    not keep them store up in my head.

    But I’m not you. I know you’ll stay here,
    do the right thing, keep your promises
    to me, stashing little poems like secrets.

  133. Linda Voit

    If I Were Ivy in England

    lush and emerald
    I’d drink the rain
    absorb the mist
    of the sea

    my roots fed
    by richest soil
    my leaves
    by sounds of sheep

    and tea kettles
    plenty of brick walls
    and stone arches
    to climb

    and always
    wrought iron
    for me to spiral
    and glimpse the sun

    Linda Voit

  134. Gabrielle Freeman

    Brewer and NaPoWriMo mash up.

    I will never be enough
    by Gabrielle Freeman

    If I were able to take your disease
    my daughter, my husband, my brother,
    could I withstand the everyday-ness
    of your suffering? Would I fight so well
    the fight the body presents to itself?
    I do not require insulin to keep
    me alive. I do not require
    sheer will to make my muscles move.
    Can I know what you feel in the morning
    on a blood sugar of sixty-five?
    On biceps that no longer recognize
    signals from the brain? Diabetes,
    muscular dystrophy, enemies mine.
    Would that my own body was strength enough.

  135. stargypsy

    If I Were You

    To see me through
    your eyes

    Maybe I could
    accept what you
    tell me
    That you adore me
    I am beautiful
    I am special
    I am loved

    If I were you…

    maybe I could
    understand me
    in a whole new light

    maybe I could
    love me as much
    as you do

    If I were you…

    Copyright © 2014 Annie – Original Poetry
    Always…I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you Love.
    As Ever, Annie

  136. toujourskari

    If I Were a Cloud

    I would live an aerie free-spirited life
    floating effortlessly above the fray
    If I were a cloud

    I would ride the wind
    or ferry a breeze
    inhaling the warm sunrise each day
    If I were a cloud

    I would hover where my heart beats
    giving shade or shapes of inspiration
    If I were a cloud

    Unless you were a cloud

    Then, I would drift into your vapor
    swirling through your airy wisps
    I would kiss you with billows of lofty zephyrs
    letting you rest in my silky softness
    If you were a cloud

  137. Sharon Ann

    If I were a breeze…….

    If I were a breeze I’d blow softly,
    gently pulling warm air as I moved.
    I’d reach out to the trees,
    surprising the leaves
    with a flourish of this breeze and that.

    If the children said, “snow,” I’d blow colder,
    until the flakes had covered the ground.
    I’d blow up, I’d blow down,
    swirling around,
    making a howling sound.

    If the ground was too dry, I’d bring rainstorms,
    showering pavements with torrents of rain.
    Dodging lightening and hail,
    over hill top and vale,
    raging through town after town.

    In the end I’d be gentle as I started,
    gently pulling warm air as I moved.
    I’d reach out to the trees,
    surprising the leaves,
    with a flourish of this breeze and that.

  138. shellcook

    If I were – sonnet
    Prompt day 14

    If I were an angel, I’d stay by your side.
    I would show you words to help you speak.
    Your innocent smile, through, it would peek,
    and words flow like fishes in the streams where they bide.

    How soon those wiggly words be spied
    attending to these rhythms of speech.
    Your voice now flowing like the creek
    where giggles unheard live personified.

    Your happy eyes and tender touch
    behold my wings, they soon will tremble.
    Reliving brightly on that day
    when you could speak without said crutch.

    You can learn to reassemble
    the unlocked gift of vocal passageway.

  139. mshall

    If I were thinner
    Among women I could be a winner.
    My tiny little waist
    Would slink round to modern taste.

    If I were good at losing weight,
    A proud lady’s most desired fate,
    From eating I could totally refrain
    To make up for the lack in my brain.

    For indeed if I were skinny
    I wouldn’t mind the many
    small hairs that cover my skin
    and the beard that grows on my chin.

    If against my body I were the victor,
    people would finally stop asking if I was sick, or?
    Just thinking about food would be my fill
    As I battle a warm day’s constant chill.

    If only, if only I were thin
    With these crazy times I’d fit in.
    Until my heartbeat would slowly cease
    And then I would finally be at peace.

  140. carolecole66

    If only I were younger

    I would give you the ride of your life,
    gallop through the house with you
    on my back screaming “Yee Hah,” slapping
    my rump and pulling my hair.

    Not so long ago, I could have wrestled you
    to the floor, held you down, sat on you
    until you cried for mercy. If I were younger
    I could squeeze you breathless.

    But suddenly you’re nearly six feet tall
    and I have fragile bones, a hint
    of a dowager’s hump. The only thing I’ve left
    is fantasy and fragments of desire.


  141. dandelionwine

    If I Were Anne Shirley and You Were Diana Barry

    We would walk hand in hand as bosom friends,
    whispering, giggling, baring our secret souls.
    We’d find beauty woven in friendship,
    in the wild world, in the mundane.
    We’d apologize even knowing
    the other would say no need.
    We’d meet one another
    across green fields
    and lifetimes
    as we do

    Sara Ramsdell

  142. acele

    If I Were Forgiveness

    If I were forgiveness…

    I would wait patiently watching

    I would search endlessly for cracks in

    I would sit silently by bedsides in

    I would swim longingly in

    I would rejoice finally in
    the words
    I’m sorry

    then you would at last see me in

    You would gently feel me in

    You would quietly know me in

    You would fervently taste me in

    And we would gladly rejoice together in

    A Cele

  143. Phil Boiarski

    If I were learning
    anything from all
    this maneuvering:
    walkers and
    pillboxes and
    I might see it
    coming, rolling
    in on silver wheels,
    wheezing and
    whimpering why
    in the night.
    If I could take it
    away, I would
    but all I can do
    is hold your hand
    and tell you,
    I don’t know,
    I don’t understand.

  144. Ashley Marie Egan

    If I Were a Magician
    by Ashley Marie Egan

    I would show you,
    How to believe in magic,
    The stars would break into,
    Little pieces to illuminate your tragic,
    Days with the possibility of hope,
    Only then would you understand my love,
    That looking at you makes it hard to cope,
    With all the days you’re not a part of,
    But even if I were a magician,
    I wouldn’t cast a spell to make you mine,
    You would be nothing but an apparition,
    You would be vacant of your shine,

    So please don’t be alarmed,
    By my love, you’ll never be charmed.

  145. Grey_Ay

    If I Were Only

    If I were only to hunker down
    put this butt in chair,
    I’m sure these poetic
    words would flow
    I’m sure I’d find them there.

    But I am a balking, stubborn one
    and that time I do not take.
    Instead I waste it all online
    or eating, or watching air.

    If I could simply
    commit to sit
    this easy, little step
    I’d have written
    a novel piece
    instead I just have this.

    -A. Ault-

  146. DCR1986

    If I Were Africa


    I would write to invite my children home.
    Roll out the royal carpet,
    Set off my drums,
    Declare tribes to name each one beyond African Descent,
    Wrap them in kente and feed them their roots.
    Chant, dance, and then,
    peacefully position them on my knee,
    Preach about all my Kings and Queens.
    Speak of Igbo, Yoruba, Zulu, Swahili—
    until they comprehend.
    Teach them to break chains,
    Build circles of love between all men.
    Tell them to proudly kiss their skin,
    Show them my love is treasure,
    Worth more than what my gold, oil, and diamonds could measure. 
    Show them I am more than ghettos and slums.
    Poor of somethings,
    But rich in spirits.
    I am not just one of the large continents by sea.
    I am home.
    I am mother
    that you should
    feel, hear, and see.


  147. matthew

    If I Were Building Transformers

    I would show up early every day to pour over blueprints
    make coffee take notes read the mechanical drawings
    I would greet everyone as they came in
    I would measure twice and cut once no matter what department
    I was in I would press fit the bearings with the steady patience
    of a nun I would weld the frame together with the precision of a surgeon
    I would align all of the sprockets and pulleys
    every power transmission assembly would be lubricated properly
    every gear box filled with oil exactly to the specifications
    every chain would click along smoothly every belt hum
    there would only be the required tension and no more
    I would smile at the smell of coolant and sparkles from the grinding wheels
    I would avoid the welding fumes but hear and enjoy the bacon frying
    chatter of the weldments taking form
    If I were building transformers “robots in disguise”
    I would put a glimmer in every LED set of eyes
    the smoke and the heat and the blood and sweat put into it
    would all be worth it just to fulfill a childhood dream

    I must say I have gotten close building automated flat glass production lines
    and working in the Big Cell with 2500 ton presses pounding out transmission parts
    for Chrysler and GM but, building cars and production lines is nothing
    compared to the cool mechanical power and swavey of the Autobots and the Decepticons

  148. rachelgrace

    if I were to be seen

    I stood and pondered as you looked at me
    What was it you could see?
    Rain fell around you
    And I felt it too
    Yet you still looked at me
    I didn’t bring an umbrella
    It didn’t matter
    Alone you looked at me as I looked on
    Was it that I knew I really wasn’t there?
    If I were there, you wouldn’t truly see me.

  149. bethwk

    If I Were to Read a Poem to My Mockingbird
    by Elizabeth Weaver-Kreider

    Mockingbird growls. In between riffs
    of cardinal and killdeer, of phoebe and wren
    and some feathered neighbor from the south
    whose name I don’t know, in between all that,
    mockingbird growls at me.

    He growled tonight when I started to read to him:
    Mary Oliver’s Mockingbirds.
    I was certain he’d be flattered,
    but he growled at me
    and fluffed his feathers,
    twitched his tail,
    and when I got to the part
    about the old people dying
    and the gods clapping their great wings,
    he opened his own and took flight,
    off up the orchard into the twilight.

    He’s not such a good listener, that one.
    But we often forgive our loquacious friends
    their lack of listening skills
    because they entertain us with such gusto.

    But the hens. The hens listened, rapt,
    clucking like fans at a jazz fest.
    And when I bowed, and walked up
    to close the coop for the night,
    they all asked for my autograph.

  150. Janet Rice Carnahan


    It would be the day of my birth,
    A wonderful spring day on earth,
    With poems to read and judge
    Before having cake,chocolate fudge
    Along with friends, merriment and mirth!

    Sounds good to me, so let’s go . . .
    Happy Birthday, Jericho!

  151. LizMac

    If I Were Perfectly Honest

    If I were perfectly honest
    Life would be painfully bleak
    So instead I collect pieces of driftwood
    And with them build caves of retreat.

    Here, I project value and meaning
    Onto objects so terribly frail
    To the simple, bestow color and interest
    In a world that is sickly and pale.

    So why be perfectly honest?
    Why comply with such mandates for man?
    Rather, nourish my soul through the desert
    Conjure hope however I can.

  152. CathyBlogs

    If I were to carry your cross
    [For the Triduum]

    Christ, certainly I’d hoped to
    have been invited to the meal,
    though it seems the victuals
    were slim, even with the wine.
    The company was also dicey —
    that tax collector, all those
    fishermen, and where were
    the women? I have difficulty
    being relegated to the kitchen;
    but then you mentioned about
    the servants becoming
    friends; that’s reassuring, anyway.

    And the next day: Jesus, I
    really would have skipped the
    trial, thanks anyway — it just
    seems unfair, what had you
    done besides preached a few
    sermons? Well, the incident
    with the moneylenders was
    slightly vandalous, but you
    explained it later, right? I don’t
    get why everyone at the parade —
    Remember? You rode the donkey,
    people waved the palms, there
    was cheering? Where were those
    people later, on Friday? Those
    spectators switched sides fast.

    So I’m thinking, God, after
    the unfair treatment and the
    verbal abuse, the familial questioning —
    really, whose business is it? I
    thought you were pretty
    circumspect about who you
    might or might not have been —
    And then the audacity of that
    judge to open it to audience
    voting! I mean, let’s follow the
    rules, if we’re talking sentencing.
    Because you’d lost that crowd
    to the home team early in the

    And, oh Lord, I’m not good with blood,
    really, I’m not, what could a
    woman have done to stop it?
    They had whips and clubs and
    they beat you at least twice and then
    that crown — have mercy! — on your head;
    Well, crying got us nowhere, all
    the support staff had run away,
    those cowards, we were left
    to follow, somebody managed to
    wipe your face, you were a mess,
    and all the shouting, the road
    seemed too hard to go —

    Seriously, at that point, I couldn’t
    have carried your cross if they’d
    let me. You know, the guards,
    the screaming people, and that crossbar
    was tied to your back — it was just
    out of my control. I wanted to,
    you know that, right? I could
    barely keep pace, that
    walk up the hill seemed to
    take forever, and you know I have
    the best intentions. Always.
    And hey, you weren’t the only one
    being punished that day. Those other
    two guys, they were guilty for sure,
    but at least you weren’t alone.

    Were you?

    by Cathy Dee writing at http://www.CathyBlogs.com

  153. Amaria

    If I Were Beautiful

    If I were beautiful
    you would place me on pedestals.
    Give me a crown full of jewels.
    Bow at my entry into a room.

    If I were beautiful
    all men would fall at my feet.
    Every woman would envy me.
    I would covet all that I seek.

    If I were beautiful
    daily life would so easier.
    I would do whatever I pleased.
    I would live my life more free.

    But despite these things,
    three questions still remain –

    If I were beautiful
    would you love me the same?
    Would it make you stay
    or would you still go away?

  154. ina

    If I were a hammer

    If I were a hammer,
    I would ballpeen through wooden walls,
    splintering my way to the heart
    of the great wars, the endless hurts,
    the heartbreaks that are heard around the world.
    I would claw out the spikes that nail us
    to our young history;
    Pounding, I would bring us closer
    to the animals that rose in branches around us
    to the ocean beds of our buried roots,
    to the slate and magma that runs through our veins.
    I would ring my mallet-head against
    the sheer faces of rock until we became visible,
    our individual faces: each beautiful crag,
    each cliff-hang nose,
    our eyes glowing like gemstones
    in the noonday sun,
    precious and ever-lasting.

    –Ina Roy-Faderman

  155. rachfh

    If I were inside your mind

    perhaps your misfiring
    synapses would reveal
    a pattern

    that escapes me now

    perhaps I could find
    the filter you’ve misplaced
    and slide it back

    over your tongue-gate

    so neither of us
    would stare at each other
    in shock

    at what your mouth just released

    perhaps I’d find the blasted fuse
    that caused this rewiring
    this misfiring

    I’d make it all right, again

    by Rachel E. Hicks

  156. Kendall A. Bell

    If I were alone with your journal

    I’d open the faux leather cover and
    skip over everything about your ex
    and how controlling he was. I’d
    read everything from your teen years,
    just to know what you thought was
    attractive then. I’d find the little
    scribbles of poems, the beginnings
    of your voice and turn the pages
    slower, looking for any trace of me.
    I’d take a plastic ruler and slowly
    tear out the page with the poem you
    said you had written about me, re-read
    every verb and adjective, feel the blood
    racing through my fingertips as I fold
    it up and carefully put it in my back
    pocket. I would take it out before bed
    and embrace your verse before I shutter
    the factory.

  157. ninocka

    Happy birthday, Jericho, 14 lines (imperfect English sonnet):

    If I Were

    If I were the precious time
    I would not count myself
    and let those minutes mine
    behave as crazy elves

    If I were a darling courage
    like that of dying man
    I would give the world the knowledge
    needed to stay sane

    If I were just meek compassion
    I would creep in darkest holes
    giving cold hearts resurrection
    aligning them with their souls

    If I were the true real myself
    my books perhaps would fill the shelves…

  158. Alpha1



    First thing I’d do
    If I were you
    I’d back up off me
    Say we are through
    You made it clear
    There’s someone new
    Someone else
    Who loves you true
    Who loves you much
    More than I do
    At least you think so
    But it’s okay
    I tried my best
    I even agreed
    To take the test
    Of time
    Which I failed
    I tried though
    I didn’t just ask
    The Lord
    I begged
    I didn’t just pray
    I fell on my knees
    Lord please
    Make this woman mine
    And my prayers
    Went unanswered
    I guess it’s a sign
    So If I were you
    First thing I’d do
    Would be to leave me
    Far behind

  159. lshannon

    If I were a Superhero

    If I were a superhero you ask
    what power would I have?
    The power of completion
    with a cape of celebration!

    Endless to do tasks done
    sanely bit by bit dancing
    troublesome baby steps
    like magic and miracle

    Maybe I would be an elf
    the elegance of vision
    and the luxury of immortality
    owning the time to live- a right

    Or a knight in Joan of Arc armor
    large enough to contain my
    mass and energy on the battle field
    winning every war.

    Fighting dragons of
    indecision and rescuing
    the damsel in distress that I see
    daily in my bathroom mirror

    Or a detective uncovering
    hidden talents, missing documents
    in style and seductive shadows
    a tailored trench coat and rakish hat

    What would I be If I were
    able and willing?
    Writing my own hero story
    one page at a time.

  160. DanielAri

    “If I were greener grass”

    People in my father’s social circles
    ribbed each other for the state of their yards.
    I remember a cohort named Sinclair
    who earned the nickname “Sink-lawn” for the burned
    yellow mange his dogs sowed in his front square.

    He spent all the yard time he could muster
    ensuring his neighbor’s lush green bluegrass
    kept its straight borderline uninvited.
    He must have been accused of trespassing.
    He was a nice guy though, my dad declared.

    Some of us bend to the power of sass.
    I honestly couldn’t tell the difference
    between brands of jeans, but the ass pocket
    stitching left me classified defenseless.
    It wasn’t too long before I needed

    to choose between a timely change of pants
    or commitment to an offensive stance.


    PS: Happy Jericho Brown Day!

  161. EbenAt

    Who do you want to be?
    Or should I ask, what?
    Enough about me,
    it’s your time now.

    Not sure?
    Then just a few
    Thoughts for you.

    Don’t wish for
    money or fame,
    creature comforts;
    those things won’t do
    anything for you.

    Wish for wisdom,
    patience, forbearance,
    inner peace and strength,
    the ability to truly love.

    Were you so blessed,
    everything else would be
    low hanging fruit.

  162. Alfonso Kuchinski

    Were I (Lunar Eclipse)

    Latest sliver of evening
    Crossing the Aries/Libra axial
    Major tectonic plate shift 
    psychic rubicon landslide
    Simultaneous occurrence
    atypical coincidence 
    Pluto’s toxic depth
    excess dead weight shed
    a horoscope like none other
    ahead waiting to be born

  163. Taylor Emily Copeland

    If I were a virgin

    I could remember the pure want of
    love, the need to feel someone’s
    arms around me for the first time,
    to breathe in the scent of sweat
    on his neck and wonder if it is
    what every guy smells like.
    I would know that there is something
    worth taking from me, something that
    he can’t get from those other girls
    who he was in the back of his car
    with a few weeks ago, know that my
    legs do not slither open, are not
    a venus man trap of hedonism.
    I would remember the innocence before
    alcohol, the elation of holding hands,
    and how a ringing landline telephone
    was the most incredible feeling,
    that every girl is worth more when
    she’s not going commando, when she’s
    sober, when she’s not a forwarded
    cautionary tale.

  164. Julieann

    Just a note. Normally Monday’s don’t bother me, but today was a loo-loo, and unfortunately, this tongue in cheek offering is the result. I hope I do not offend anyone. Offense is not my intention.

    If I Were Not so Critical

    If I were not so critical
    Maybe others’ shortcomings
    Wouldn’t bother me so much
    Because, really,
    I have no shortcomings of my own

    Undoubtedly, I do everything right
    When she says she forgot –
    I would never forget something
    He sends my work to the wrong department –
    I would never, ever misdirect anything
    And then they say they don’t have time
    Shoot, I am surrounded by the luxury of time
    My favorite is, by all accounts, I’ve done it
    Don’t you have it?
    Of course I do, I just like to call and
    Hassle you about it

    That’s right
    I wouldn’t be so critical
    I wouldn’t aggravate you so much
    If you and everyone else
    Were perfect like me!

  165. KatNalley

    This is an experiment, as I wanted form to follow content. Hopefully it translates.

    If I were a fjord,

    I’d be forged by ice
    segregation, a-
    brasion, glacial e-
    rosion. Sill or shoal
    at the mouth. Reef or
    skerry. I’d be a
    menace to navi-
    gation, a gener-
    ous fishing ground, a
    glacially long val-
    ley with terminal
    moraine. Trapped between
    mountain, I’d rush as
    tidal current or
    saltwater rapid,
    and finally be
    that long, narrow arm
    of the sea, wonder-
    ously beautiful,
    remarkably deep.

  166. jclenhardt

    If I Were In The Moment

    If I were
    in the moment,
    a moment past,
    or a moment
    in future pretense,
    caught in lapse
    of your memory,
    which I am,
    or a memory
    that hasn’t quite
    yet, if I were,
    and there
    in the future,
    and there
    in the past,
    you loved me,
    as you did,
    and as you will,
    and as you
    always have,
    you’d meet
    me there
    and ask,
    how it was
    I kept you,
    in this moment now.

  167. briehuling

    April 14, 2014

    Day 14

    If I were a daydream

    I would be female, naked,
    and lying on top of you in a hammock.
    I would give handjobs for breakfast while
    you read the paper and enjoyed morning eggs
    in preparation for a day of piña coladas,
    mind blowing conversation and naps
    in the hypoallergenic grass.

    If I were a daydream
    I would be a giant veggie burrito
    held in two hands,
    with all the right portions in every bite.
    I would be the habañero hot sauce
    everybody swooned for;
    money waving in little fists as they chased me
    to pay me what I’m actually worth.

    If I were a daydream
    I would be a red-tailed hawk
    who spent the day soaring and scoping,
    exploring and singing about dinner and my family
    safe in the treetops in a nest made from husks and sticks.
    Native regalia would be beautiful without me
    and the falconer would become a delicious mouse.

    If I were a daydream I would be peace
    I would look like flowers and feel like friendship
    like those initials carved in the tire-swing tree.
    If I were a daydream it would never ever hurt
    or be broken or feel ugly or wicked.
    People wouldn’t forget the things that truly matter or get sick or die.
    If I were a daydream I would be happy
    holding your hand right beside you, smiling.

    By Brie Huling


  168. Daniel Paicopulos

    If I Were Given a Mulligan

    If I were given a mulligan,
    the chance to fix life’s mistakes,
    I’d likely turn it down,
    not an option I would take.
    It might be tempting to go back,
    correct some ill-done act or ten,
    improve upon my history,
    be a better man, but then,
    I’d still probably regret it,
    any change to my decisions,
    no, it’s better to just let it
    be the way it really was,
    with the occasional fumble,
    all leading to who I am today,
    and for that I am most humble.

  169. maxie409

    If I Were You

    If I were you…
    That’s how all
    the good advice starts.
    If I were you, dear, I’d
    lose weight/gain weight
    cut my hair/grow it out
    dump him/marry him
    move away/stay put
    get a dog/get a cat
    eat this/drink that.
    Nobody ever says
    (though some may think it)
    If I were you I’d
    mind my own business.

  170. omavi

    if i were silence
    [Poem a Day Challenge: Day 14]

    nothing. no one. nowhere.
    i would be everywhere and disappear.
    get lost in the norm. realizing strange
    becomes not that unintelligent. smart
    wanes waxingly immediately. tongue
    wagging listlessly in soupy grime. dirty
    words raining acidly. burning
    silently the contraptions of
    humanism lost in technological
    attraction. magnetism of depravity
    to total passion. silence golden. i
    would thrash vocals. make voice
    nothing. sound null. love
    lost in the misty volumes. lost
    time becomes quiet. or i
    will no longer speak and
    life will become benign.
    silence am i.

    “… of silence, art and love!” [Monday, April 14, 2014] 
    Copyright 2014 Omavi. All Rights Reserved.

  171. Joseph Harker

    If I Were Your Muse, Reader

    If I were your muse, reader, I would arrive
    late, dripping with sweat, and lean my baggage
    against the whitewashed gate. Honeyed tea
    and lemon cake would be needed to take the edge
    off my journey: then we could begin to dive
    into contracts and covenants, the stacked-penny
    royalties, the heady perfume of the book advance.
    My vocation: to remind you that you are alive.
    Business cards traded as I unbutton my pants,
    slip off the tee; I do my inspirations naked when
    the heat is unabated. We’d share mouthfuls of wine,
    word by word, til I knew what vocabulary your pen’s
    incurred. And at last we’d begin the pleasures in a line,
    the sin of slant rhyme. And it ends, amen, amen, amen.

  172. LeeAnne Ellyett

    Happy B-Day, Jericho, mine is friday…

    If i were “rich”

    If I were rich.
    the first thing I’d fix,
    is the pull-string flush,

    then the shower, with more power,
    then the leaky roof,

    if I were rich, my second wish,
    would be the free activist,
    acres of sea, for you to swim free,

    If I were rich,
    I would not be a bitch,
    my last wish, happiness,
    but money doesn’t buy you love.

  173. Lindy™

    If I were Normal?

    If I were normal,
    I wonder how I’d be different
    than the me
    I’ve grown to be.
    How much is really me
    and how much the diabetes?
    There is no way to know
    of course,
    and in the end
    I guess it’s ALL me,
    but I wonder what it’s like
    because I don’t remember

    (Type 1 diabetes 36+ years)

  174. miaokuancha

    April 14, 2014

    Prompt: If I were

    If I were a thistle in the doorway
    Would you step over me?
    Or, barefoot, hurrying, eyes upcast,
    step on me,
    and curse?
    Then spray me with Round-up?
    Right there at your door.
    Would you dig me up with a spade?
    Perhaps transplant me?
    And would that be
    to a garden,
    or to the roadside?
    Where all the winter salt runs off.
    If I were a thistle,
    in your doorway.
    Will you be that one who waits?
    Coming in and going out
    Walking around me
    as you must.
    But looking,
    to see that morning
    when my crown
    to brush the palm of your hand.

    ~ miaokuancha

  175. LeeAnne Ellyett

    “if I were….”a poem,

    Poems are like a story,
    a fairy tale,with rhyme,

    it’s a ballad, sad and dark,
    other times, light with delight,

    a sonnet, 14 lines
    a statement, 1 dines,

    on a feast of words,
    squawking like a bird,

    If I were A poet,
    a princess in a mote,

    then my thoughts flow,
    like the water in a hole,
    to complete my soul.

  176. ambermarie

    If I Were Cash Advancing

    Coldness in my bones
    That’s where it lives, trapped
    So many years of forgotten promises and broken dreams
    Made manifest my depression
    Telling myself that I can’t, that it’s really okay
    Telling them I’m sorry for hesitating to consider myself –
    My selfish and odd little obsessions
    The bargain of relationship with others
    Leaves me feeling that something’s been stolen

    As I forget to charge for the goods
    I fall into debt with myself
    Owing years of truths and millions in feelings
    Never achieving that which lay deep in my heart
    Sharing the only gifts I had to invest
    I’m nearly taxed to death
    But is it never too late to save
    Money grows on trees if I plant them
    Nurturing myself, I repay the piggy bank inside

  177. laurie kolp

    If I Were A Bat

    If I were a bat
    I wouldn’t be crazy like that
    I wouldn’t live in a cave and sleep all day
    Hang upside down the Dracula way
    I wouldn’t entangle myself in bouffant hair
    Or place evil spells with batty-eyed glares
    Haunt sweet old ladies taking baths
    With taps on cracked windows
    And knocking of slats
    Or taunt them with bangs of shutters
    Flappy wing swooshes on gutters
    No, if I were a bat
    I wouldn’t do all of that
    But then again maybe I would

  178. laurie kolp

    If I Were A Wall

    Quiescence hangs like thick fog in the air
    as each next breath calls you farther away.
    I watch your chest rise and fall; are you aware
    of this finality? You seem at peace lying there.

    Just last night you cried out in pain, a wail
    penetrating the walls of dark secrets
    alarming neighbors with your distress; they’ll
    never know the depths between them, yet

    whispers filled the hall as if your near death
    were unexpected. Why? Today, I meet
    an empty home, your soul’s already with
    God; I can tell by my heart’s heavy beat.

    I kissed your blue lips one last time
    and prepared for a fog-filled climb.

  179. RJ Clarken

    If I Were a Verb

    “She was once described as an action verb disguised as a person.” –Richard Brodhead

    Always in motion; can’t slow down.
    Lexical, but lyrical, too.
    Not passive. That’s a rarity.

    And ‘though I’m verb, I’m sometimes noun,
    depending on my point of view,
    which seeks to maintain parity

    with gerunds, which can make one frown
    when overused, but let’s eschew
    that topic. (Such polarity.)

    I’m transitive. I wear that crown:
    Catenative. Dynamic. Do
    you get the picture? Clarity?

    Just regular, a part of speech.
    Infinitives can’t split my reach.


  180. Emily Cooper

    If “I” Were Divided

    so meaning if
    the subject pronoun
    that we use to refer
    to ourselves were split

    into “body
    mind and spirit”

    or “left
    right and other”

    or “agree
    disagree and standing by

    to observe things
    as objectively
    as possible first”

    and we could pick
    which part was doing
    the “I”-ing

    would we only create
    more news with endless
    spiraling speculating

    would discourse be enhanced

    or would we arrive
    at some reality
    that is best for all?

    Yes and no
    and maybe so?

  181. Lori D. Laird

    If I Were To Have Listened

    We’ve been down a long road.
    Most of the times have been good.
    Laughter has rung out loudly.
    Other times I’ve hidden under a hood.
    To ward off the consuming pain.
    Words have been spoken.
    My heart has been mended.
    It’s also been broken.

    Throughout everything
    we’ve managed to come back together.
    Our love grows deeper.
    Seems possible to believe in forever.
    Then something happens.
    The tables get turned.
    Our lives are separated.
    My soul gets burned.

    But for some reason
    I never see an actual end.
    You’ve promised you’ll come back.
    And not just as a friend.
    We have a rare and unusual bond.
    One not easily broken.
    That’s why I put my faith
    in the words left unspoken.

  182. MaryAnn1067

    If I Were Less Exhausted

    If I were less exhausted I
    clean out the basement,
    arrange for the baby clothes to be collected,
    hang some wallpaper,
    paint those bannisters,
    hand-sew all the children’s clothes
    while whipping up some lobster thermidor,
    manage that multi-national
    conglomerate, sending my head
    crowning, bloodied, through the
    glass ceiling,
    removing the shards,
    simultaneously collecting a
    MacArthur, without, of course,
    forgetting to find
    the perfect place settings
    for Thanksgiving dinner

  183. Emma Hine

    If I Were Single

    I would live every moment for me,
    living my life indomitably selfishly.
    Lazy mornings,
    reading till my eyes glaze
    and the words swim on the page.
    I would get in my car and drive
    just because I could
    with no direction in mind.
    I would eat when I chose,
    what I chose,
    never trying to suppose
    what others might prefer.
    I would have only conversations
    which pleased me…
    which started when I spoke
    and ended on my whim.
    I would concur
    with me… and only me.
    I would be free.

    I would lie in bed waiting
    for the pitter patter of
    tiny elephant feet that never came.
    I would savour the silence,
    waiting for the countless interruptions
    of mindless, childish worries…
    Waiting… waiting… waiting…
    I would ache for the waiting.
    I would tolerate the bickering
    for just one tiny hand in mine
    and a voice softly saying,
    “I love you!”
    And I frequently do.
    For being a couple,
    Our pair became a trio,
    a quartet, a quintet.
    If I were single,
    I would lose three parts of me.
    And I might even miss you.

  184. cobanionsmith

    If I Were 88, a Birthday Wish

    I’d dye my hair pillbox red with sunshine yellow tips
    every strand of white sighing at last
    as it drank in the color. My coiffure a lit
    match, my expression of permanent
    wonder like I’d just come from the circus.

    I’d ditch my car for a purple moped
    with matching shiny handlebar tassels.
    The words Grandma Loves You
    embroidered on the back of my black
    leather riding jacket—Loves
    an anatomically correct human heart.

    Finally over my body, I’d wear
    only tank tops, my arms sleeved in tattoos
    of birds I’d seen on exotic birding tours,
    such as the Green-headed Tanager
    and the Little Bee-eater; their feathers
    dusting wrinkles with gratitude
    for each day, each letter of their clever
    names also etched in my flesh.

    I’d do as little harm as possible but
    overtly wink with my right eye at everyone.

    I’d participate in every charity event
    and social campaign I could find
    because who would mess
    with a tattooed, flame-headed old lady,
    a bullhorn in one hand, a katana
    as a walking stick in the other?

    But mostly, I’d bake sweet things,
    give them to strangers, every
    day somebody’s birthday and every
    one my grandbaby. Crusted in shiny
    sugar glaze or iced in love’s every
    hue, random haiku
    baked inside each gift:

    Old and new, from earth
    to mouth, let me linger on
    tongues just long enough.

    Delicious for its brevity,
    like life, I’d wish poetry
    to be all our legacies.

    (c) Courtney O’Banion Smith

  185. seingraham


    I would be angry that so much of me is gone
    This is not hyperbole, not exaggeration
    These are just the facts

    Let’s see – which came first, the chicken or the…
    No, that’s not how this goes…not at all
    First went the usual – tonsils, appendix –
    the useless things and who really cares about those?

    But then, I lost all my teeth…every last one sheared off
    You’re reading this correctly, due to illness that required
    long-term, ongoing various medications,
    all my teeth gave up the ghost…
    Not before requiring much attention: painful stuff such as
    root canals and the like, but I’m not bitter
    If I were the grudge-holding type…
    But I’m not, and store-boughts are very natural-looking
    and have some handy features to commend them nowadays…
    I’ll never have another toothache…

    At about the same time my teeth deserted my face,
    my bones also tried to melt out of my body
    Fortunately, mega-doses of calcium, some weight-bearing exercises,
    and much self-denial, seem to have at least halted this inevitability
    Thank the arthroscopic gods for things like artificial knees…
    I know those replacements are a necessary part of my future

    I had forgotten that long before the teeth abandonment,
    I had given up on my finger nails…
    I’d always chalked up my soft, easily splitting digital messes
    to poor eating habits or something genetic…
    Turns out it’s likely a combination of what I suspected,
    combined with the old ‘medication vital but will kill
    parts of you’, theory
    My manicure is always lovely, but the nails? Artificial ones.

    Moving right along – in the realm of what else could I possibly
    have to lose? Probably not much, right? Wrong…
    Somewhere along the way, my doctors—shrink, GP,
    and OBY-GYN—conferred and decided, with my
    input as well, admittedly
    That maybe, just maybe, my moods, my whole mental
    health status could be improved…
    Plus, halting possibly the longest case of osteopenia on record,
    according to the OBY guy (and not to get too graphic but let’s just say,
    I could have opened my own blood-donor clinic…yuck)
    It was agreed that all of this just might be righted if I had
    a total hysterectomy…in my early 40’s…
    So, not that I intended to have more children, I didn’t
    But the ability to conceive, along with my ovaries, fallopian tubes,
    and cervix got excised…
    A minor detail perhaps, but instead of helping with my moods,
    it plunged me into a mini-depression
    If I were a grudge-holding type, this might have been the time
    But even in my darkest days, the only person I hated, was me.

    Shortly after that fun time, I realized my hair was thinning
    – all my hair
    Of course my crowning glory was the most noticeable
    and the most upsetting.
    At first…
    But, earlier in my life I’d had a career where wig-wearing
    was not only acceptable, it was a necessary practice
    I knew I could probably get back to wearing one fairly easily
    I was right
    Not thrilled that it would be a lifetime commitment,
    but at least it was an answer, and do-able

    Other hair though – well, I have to say I was delighted
    when the hair on my legs stopped growing
    But when my eyelashes, and especially my eyebrows,
    took off for good; that was a sad day, a day of reckoning
    If ever you want to see how you’ll look when you’re really old –
    try looking in the mirror, imagining yourself, sans hair, teeth,
    and eyebrows
    You will be shocked to see one of your great-grandparents
    staring back at you

    Luckily I am something of an amateur artist, and the earlier
    mentioned career necessitated a sure hand when applying
    make-up as well
    So I learned quickly to draw on eyebrows everyday, and the hunt
    for the perfect, water-proof eyebrow pencil continues un-abated;
    Ditto that for eye-liner, as it makes the need for eyelashes less necessary
    However, as I age, and the arthritis in my hands becomes more severe,
    it also becomes more challenging by the day to do this fine dexterous work
    I am considering having both brows and liner tattooed on…
    Me, who has never had ink put anywhere on this body

    So, if I were a grudge-holding type, I guess I would be
    wondering what next?
    Getting up in the morning would be a scary prospect
    But you know what?
    You can take my hair, my teeth, my eyebrows, my nails…
    For a long while, I even thought you could take
    my sanity…
    But, not to jinx anything (at least I sure hope not)
    I’ve been living on the outside for over eight years
    (for the uninitiated, that would be the outside
    of the bin, the loony bin, the Ha Ha Hilton, the
    psychiatric ward…all and any of these)
    You can take many things, but not my mind and
    not my poetry,
    Not my ability to love and be loved, nor my refusal
    to be a grudge-holding type…
    Not while I’m on this side of the sod

  186. Lori DeSanti

    If I were your answer

    I’d breathe each doubt on
    your lips until they were
    lost in my lungs. If I were

    your answer, I’d fold the
    questions on your tongue
    into shapes like origami;

    a ship, a cloud, a flower,
    and with each whispered
    kiss I’d blow them away.

    I have hidden all of your
    unknowns; tucked away
    like honeycombs for you

    to find— the sweetest
    answers are the ones you
    have yet to unearth, in me.

  187. Zart_is

    If I were Lost

    If I were lost, I’d sit
    very still, waiting to be found
    fear would tempt me
    to look left then right
    hunting for a smile
    for a catch your eye kind of glance
    brows raised ready to question
    or wanting to avoid
    so I face a wall
    as punishment for trusting
    the wrong hand too many times
    the hand that reaches
    into places that hurt.
    I should just move on
    pretend to see a friend, there
    just over where they sell magazines
    no one I know reads, wondering
    what if the hand would sooth
    be all tender and kind
    help me find a way to go
    that might be like home
    or at least be warmer than
    this cinderblock barrier
    and filthy tile floor
    not sure what to wait for
    or how to find the right way
    so, I shift, look around
    hoping for familiar
    and finding strangers and dark doorways
    and no place like home
    so, for a change, I stand still
    very still, eyes on my toes
    until I’m prodded to move along.
    Letting the sun take the lead
    I opt for west, wishing.

  188. LauraLynn

    if i were seven

    i’d be playing barbies with kristy who loved
    her dog wolfie and said she was gonna marry him.

    i’d be getting called to mr. riggert’s office
    for an overdue library book.

    (now twenty years teaching would make me
    tell him he’s overreacting.)

    if i were seven the red stained tree house
    would still be there and my dog called homer
    would not have died from heartworms.

    and my son would not be scolded for tracking
    mud in just now and eating a banana while
    forty years watches over him.

    if i were seven i’d have
    bike riding
    high schooling
    horse riding
    car driving
    first kissing
    teenage yearing
    senior promming
    college graduating
    overseas traveling
    grad schooling
    first marriaging
    amiable divorcing
    second marriaging
    first birthing
    grandmas dying

    now it’s behind
    and if i were seven
    i’d be happily
    a little more blind.

    1. miaokuancha

      Unexpected lump in the throat. I think it’s from how specific each line is. Easy to preach, hard sometimes to put into practice. Beautiful work.

  189. lionetravail

    “If I Were A Famous Triolet Writer”
    by David M. Hoenig

    I’d take up the challenge posed on day fourteen,
    and answer it in inimitable way,
    I’d write just like I was a poeming machine:
    I’d take up the challenge posed on day fourteen!
    I’d offer such talent I’d make others green,
    trying a trio of tricky triolets!
    I’d take up the challenge posed on day fourteen,
    and answer it in inimitable way,

  190. MyPoeticHeart

    I wish I was a tree

    I wish I was a tree
    Yet not an ordinary tree
    The tree that lived graciously
    Over two thousand years ago..

    “A Tree Stands Bare” al©2007

    A tree stands bare
    and over the years, had so much to share

    From the beginning of his life,
    grown now…He *sighs*
    He stood in wisdom and pride…
    of years gone by
    He saw creation through his eye
    It was enough to make us cry
    From peaceful times,
    and times of war
    This tree knew he
    could not even the score
    He was stripped of bark
    and made to stand
    He once stood tall
    and oh so grand
    Delivered this Day,
    a day so dark
    Cut down to the root
    filled with humility
    As our Lord Jesus
    carried him to Calvary

    You see, this tree
    He stands not bare
    He held our Lord Jesus
    the One who cares.

  191. DanielAri


    those kids, somehow sick of loving their grandpas,
    could be hooked, I believe, to see me take the worn
    wood stage with Doog, Erika and Sean. A mangy
    rendition of The Who’s “Can’t Explain” would lead
    to the trio’s usual bout of fine-tuning and fiddling
    with their instruments, Doog dipping his head down
    to his guitar, showing his personal brand shaved
    into his scalp; Erika shifting in her rainbow attire
    with nary a smile, seeming to wait for some cue;
    and Sean actually tuning his drums. The twenty-
    somethings suspended while the old man tells how
    he had a beer and ate nuts with Pete Townshend
    (watching one or two kids in the audience explain
    to each other who that is); and finally we’d go into
    an original Doog noise with me demonstrating just
    how much not a vocalist I am. The stories would
    become our hits, youth asking me to tell the Pete
    Townshend story again while the band blows our
    smooth transitions to hell. I bet we could get the
    girls to wear our T-shirts, three pups and a codger,
    though we’ll never make the Oakland Coliseum.


  192. elledoubleyoo

    Lessons from Shakespeare

    It’s only villains or the doomed who refuse
    to question what could be instead of is,
    what might be possible if we’d only ask
    “why” or “how” or ‘if.” Caesar compared himself
    to the constant stars, ignorant of both
    astronomy and dramatic irony,
    saying “If I were as you…” condescension
    dripping from that smug mouth to a man
    with a dagger hidden behind his back.
    If I were as Caesar, I would have bent
    my will (as even stars have an orbit),
    or at least ducked, a little to the left.

  193. geetakshi

    If I were in love,
    I would have screamed at you,
    if indeed I were in love,
    I would have felt happy to shout sometimes;
    I’d have kissed your eye-lids,
    marveling at their peculiar shade;
    I’d have smiled into you hair,
    fragrant with your favourite scent
    (And mine too, now);
    I’d have laughed at your lame jokes
    (and in the same breath tell you
    how bad they were):
    your pouts would make me laugh harder;
    For I would know you love to pout.

    I will listen to your silences,
    interspersed with long and short sighs,
    and I will take quick note of them;
    (for the time when you won’t anymore);
    Sometimes, I’ll write to you,
    blatantly obvious lines;
    Sometimes I’ll embed you in gaps between words;
    I’ll look at you
    without fear,
    with my heart in my eyes,
    unafraid of long silences
    that will engulf us
    long after the jokes run out,
    and the discussions fizzle,
    I will just be with you:
    Happy to exist.
    I would do all this,
    If only I were in love
    (with you)

    ©Geetakshi Arora
    14 April, 2014

  194. Evelyn Philipp

    If I were

    If I were a wind rider
    I would set my sights

    Across desert and mountain
    Til I saw the place
    Out where

    You stay, waiting for something
    To happen, something
    Real Big

    And whisper, words soft over air
    You are brave and strong
    And true

    Soft words, pierce into the heart
    And strengthen the mind
    To make

    Something you stay and wait for
    To happen, something
    Real Big

    You do.

  195. lionetravail

    “If I Were Stopping By A Wood On A Snowy Evening”
    by David M. Hoenig

    I am quite certain I would think it queer,
    and I’d likely give my harness bells a shake-
    were I to stop somewhere without farmhouse near?
    I am quite certain I would think it queer!
    And if ’twere the longest night of the year,
    midway between snowy forest and lake?
    I am quite certain I would think it queer!
    (And I’d likely give my harness bells a shake.)

  196. Mark Conroy

    “If I were Every One Else”

    The passing moments of staying alive
    Are gifts lost in doubt
    The continuous now of never knowing
    Where and if you ever were
    The needs you feel at your very core
    You share with everyone else alone
    They stay a secret unless you love
    Today—tomorrow—and again even more
    Sleep and dream in joy and fear
    Wake and open your eyes
    To who it is that’s really there and find
    Everyone else who’s lost with you.
    That’s why you need anyone at all
    Because they need you twice times two.

    Mark Conroy

  197. lionetravail

    “If I Were Able To Choose My Superpower”
    by David M. Hoenig

    Yes, if I could select my heroic position,
    I’d be in the Justice League with special powers!
    I’d choose something like Chameleon Boy’s condition-
    yes, if I could select my heroic position.
    In fact, I might have my own comic edition,
    and villains would scheme, commit evil, and glower!
    Yes, if I could select my heroic position,
    I’d be in the Justice League with special powers!

  198. Bruce Niedt

    Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem consisting entirely of questions and ending with a statement.

    If I Were to Meet Walt Whitman, What I Would Ask

    Did you know they named a bridge after you?
    What do you think of Camden today?
    What was it like being a Civil War nurse?
    How did you deal with being gay in the 19th Century?
    What was Oscar Wilde like?
    Who were your favorite poets?
    When did you decide not to rhyme?
    What do you think of rap?
    Where did you like to go for dinner?
    Did your beard get itchy in the summer?
    Where did you get that floppy hat?
    Why did you only write one book of poetry?
    Can I get your autograph?
    Then he’d sign my copy of Leaves of Grass,
    and show me the door.

  199. k_weber

    If I Were Trapped In an Elevator with You

    I’d hope nothing
    was on fire
    except the longing.

    Maybe you would come
    to my lips

    I would bite
    the outline
    of your ear.

    You could touch me
    in the places just
    above and below where

    I want to be touched.

    We are soon
    the smudge of ourselves
    reflected in the door.

    You blur me
    so dizzy; I want
    to be blurred faster.

    The quickening
    pulse of my chest
    drowns the Muzak.

    I have fingers around
    your neck and your heart-
    beats match mine:

    whoever you are.

    – k weber

  200. Jane Shlensky

    If I were a Bat

    If I were a bat on a moonless night,
    I’d follow your vibrations as if sight
    and sound were all the same; your graceful flight

    would turn my head, make me consider love,
    make my wings stretch and etch the sky above
    like filigree, and in your wake, I’d move

    an echo to your cries, closing my eyes
    to sense your every change, your fall and rise,
    distracted from mosquitoes by your sighs.

    If you were mine, we’d hang like hams all day
    and slumber side by side, dreaming away,
    our cave a place spelunkers would not stray.

    A slice of moon and sonar make love glow;
    if I am blind, it’s you who struck me so.

  201. Pat Walsh

    Happy Birthday, Jericho! I think I’ve gotten today’s prompt a bit mashed up with the whole idea of having a birthday; anyway, here’s the result:

    If I Were Again A Little Boy
    by Patrick J. Walsh

    If I were again a little boy
    set out to play and run
    I would pay no mind to
    the grieving clouds
    but revel in the light of April sun

    If I were again a little boy
    with old thoughts again anew
    I would sit and think
    and concentrate
    and puzzle the whole day through

    If I were again a little boy
    at Easter table with Mom and Dad
    I would eat everything
    upon my plate
    and once again be glad

    If I were again a little boy
    left with my future self to play
    together we would share a laugh and
    go to church
    to hear what God might say

    If I were again a little boy
    yet knew where the long day ends
    I would be still
    alive with hope
    for all that Providence intends

    1. gmagrady

      There seems to be a recurring theme of Providence in your poetry. Sometimes subtle, other times quite clear. In either case, there are several poets in this challenge that make me feel as if I have a pocket filled with blessings after I read their poems. You are definitely one of those poets! Thanks for sharing.

      “I would pay no mind to
      the grieving clouds
      but revel in the light of April sun”
      (Good image when waking to snow this morning!)

  202. Hannah

    Robert…I love your opening!!

    Happy day of arrival to you Jericho!

    and this…

    If I Were Keeping Track

    Green grows spiraling ever outward
    Gaia’s belly is filling of liquid – burgeoning.
    I’m under the spell of scurry and sight,
    the flight, a simple dance of sparrow
    and the pointed song of my brother
    towering skyward above mythical pines.
    The vision of black crow’s feathers
    shining and powerful, rippling.
    A rite of passage has been paid
    drudgery of many gray days –
    the reward is all this new glory;
    cycle’s broken in a pallid bed,
    purple crocuses nose through loam.
    Earth’s teeming with spring’s children,
    curving kinks of growth push forth.
    Gaia’s belly is brimming, crowning of fresh,
    green breath grows – spiraling ever outward.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014

  203. Patricia A. Hawkenson

    Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Day 14 If I Were poem

    If I Were Spandex

    I could hold it all in
    and there would be space
    to conceal it all
    the bulging emotions
    that fester and grow
    from that gelatinous
    and your slanderous
    till my head explodes
    and my pain drifts
    thin and wispy
    like dandelion fluff
    blown from the breath
    of my inner child
    just wishing
    for a softer place
    to land.

  204. Ian Randall Wilson

    If I were A Landscape

    The leaves are still
    in their frame of trees.

    Nothing will happen
    under an illegible sky

    that might make itself
    a good story for reading,

    chronicle of a life–
    extended, expanded, extinguished.

    –Ian Randall Wilson

  205. jakkels

    If I were a poet ear I’d compare you to a peach Even thou that isn’t near The perfection that you reach 

    The blush that hides beneath your skin 

    Betrays the warmth within 

    Your skin I’d say was soft as down 

    As crowns a heavenly duckling 

    More enticing than a cool spice breeze 

    On a sun drenched tropical beach 

    Your eyes I’d say in a dreamy way 

    Are like crystsls of tropical sea 

    The curve of your nose 

    Would shame any rose 

    With it’s delicacy and hint of hauteur 

    Ah, if I were a poet , now 

    I’d know how to praise your form 

    But velvet waterfall and snowy hills 

    just sound so darn forelorn 

    But if I were a Poet now,  , 

    But I am just a man 

    And can only kiss your hand.

  206. Walt Wojtanik


    When love speaks, it speaks softly.
    Aspiring to lofty things, of how hearts sing
    in harmonies that warm and soothe.
    It moves them to a pinnacle
    that other cynical people cannot attain.

    When love speaks, it speaks softly.
    A language that needs not word,
    nor intention. Or any mention of past
    indiscretions. Love expresses in a way
    that says all it ever needs in a breathless sigh.

    When love speaks, it speaks softly,
    o’er the expanse of time, o’er the length
    of distant miles. O’er fathoms of seas and lakes
    it takes a tender thought to conjoin two souls
    across an tender connection in romantic perfection.

    If I were to listen with my heart, love would speak softly,
    If I were to listen with my heart, love is heard loudly.
    If I were to listen with my heart, this knowing heart would believe.
    When love speaks, nothing else needs to be said.
    I listen with my heart when love speaks.

  207. Janet Rice Carnahan


    I’d shine peace on everyone
    Leave no needed task undone
    I’d dance among the stars for fun

    I’d study everything to get even brighter
    Ask the moon to make me lighter
    I’d hope earth tensions go quieter

    Using my light at sunrise
    I’d put hope in the skies,
    Pull out an eclipse as a surprise

    At sunset
    I might get wet
    Shake off the water, it might rain yet

    Everyday would be infinite love
    Let all people know what they are made of
    If they forget they can look above

    I’d use my heat,
    To combat defeat,
    Help everyone feel complete

    I’d want my long rays
    To touch your days
    Making sure my warm support stays

    I’d tuck you in at night
    By turning down my light
    Just allowing soft starlight

    I’d blast away
    Any fears that may
    Be too dark to keep at bay

    I’d be quick to spot
    Anything that’s not
    Positive and have it caught

    If I were the sun, I’d use a wind chime
    Bringing you music throughout all time,
    Good humor through a shadow of mine!

    As the sun, one more word
    I’d send you messages on the wings of a bird
    And poetry . . .

    Like you’ve never heard!

  208. Janet Rice Carnahan


    Speed of flight
    My delight

    Shining wings
    Smells of things

    Long pointed beak
    Hum, not speak

    Zoom and dart with affection
    Instant start in any direction

    Small, determined to survive
    Such inspiration just being alive

    Knowing I represent joy
    My dance in the sky most enjoy

    Being a bird that gets around,
    Making a wonderful whirring sound!

    I’d have fun making a small nest to keep,
    Just sipping nectar . . .

    And going to sleep!

  209. derrdevil

    If I Were Not Here
    By Derryn Warwick Raymond

    If I were not here I’d be somewhere else
    Happy and content, and beside myself
    Not a thought of the wind that takes me there
    I’d be blissful and mindless everywhere
    So wonderous and lustful it would be
    To fall into perpetual naïveté
    But If I were not here you’d be here still
    And separate from you would cause me ill
    I’d die alone, my heart bleeding asunder
    Never knowing of your sacred plunder
    But then again, I never really knew
    If I were there I would want to know you

  210. James Von Hendy

    If I Were William Shakespeare

    Would I compare you to a summer’s day?
    Probably not. Runny nose and itchy eyes,
    Those allergies and curse words, say,
    Strongly suggest I seek a compromise.
    Perhaps then, sessions of sweet silent thought,
    Something between sneezes, like evenings past?
    Were there such times? My dear, I’m overwrought.
    They were so far, few and sadly didn’t last.
    Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,
    But rather from the tissue box right here,
    Your bleary eyes, your rose that runs amuck,
    The fevered season. Hey, let’s face it dear:
    If I were him, you’d have me on the run.
    I’d change my name to Johnny and be Donne.

      1. Cin5456

        I think I like “rose that runs amuck.” I knew you meant nose, but Shakespeare’s use of the rose in sonnets and plays fits your theme so well it seemed deliberate. Besides, roses and allergies – it’s a natural fit.

  211. Margie Fuston

    If I Weren’t With You When You Died

    I might not have felt your shoulder
    twitch against my palm, a harp string
    broken in the careful harpist’s hand.
    I might not have seen your skin
    change from pink to forgotten memories.
    I might not dream at night of glass
    houses, without windows, on fire inside.
    You might still be there, lungs
    clogged with the past and no future,
    taking one more breath, waiting for me.

  212. poetrycurator

    Here is my If I Were (blank) Haiku for day 14

    If I Were a Seed

    If I were a seed
    I would bloom and breed in the
    Island of Flowers

    By Denise Fletcher Copyright © 2014

  213. break_of_day

    “If I were a superhero”

    I would understand all languages
    and speak in the same tongue
    share jokes, sing songs, talk love and pain
    with Poles and Malaysians

    I’d wrap villains in poetic verse
    and make them speak in rhyme
    and only tell the truth, it’s true
    they’d have no words for lies

    I would not work alone; instead
    I’d be part of a squad
    like syllables, when joined, make words
    we’d team against the dark

    I’d wear a costume well-composed
    for boldly fighting crime
    black and white and red, like news,
    both sassy and refined

    my name, of course, would be Logos
    at first, I’d seem passé
    but villains soon would cower, for
    a word can kill or save

  214. Walt Wojtanik


    Your body, it shivers.
    You are cold right down to your toes.
    And your heart knows that to be loved
    would bring you comfort. Wear my words.

    For if I were to wrap you in my words
    you would find the peace you seek.

    Your hands, they tremble.
    They lose their grip and allow love
    to slip from your hands. But this man
    could bring you serenity. Wear my words.

    For if I were to wrap you in my words
    you would find the tenderness you seek.

    Your eyes, they flicker.
    They see the world expressed in words
    written or heard; inspired by you,
    they are true. Wear my words.

    For if I were to wrap you in my words
    you would see the gentle beauty you seek.

    Your lips, they part.
    Poised for a sip of love’s pure essence,
    a kiss of passion’s fire, they fuel
    my heart’s desire. Wear my words.

    For if I were to wrap you in my words
    you would taste nourishment in the love you seek.

    Your heart, it resides
    within my own heart, it hides knowing
    love is growing deeply, planted by the expression
    of my weary soul. Wear my words.

    For if I were to wrap you in my words
    you would find the peace you seek.
    keep you in the tenderness you desire,
    bathe you in the beauty you espouse.
    It would nourish your soul,
    if I were to wrap you in my words.

  215. Connie106

    On being in love in middle age

    If I were older, I might have known you sooner
    and spent the intervening years loving you.
    I might have made your breakfasts, washed your socks,
    watched the map of years trace itself on your face,
    learned the geography of your heart.

    If I were younger, I might not know better
    and give you my whole heart, anyway.
    I would love you with the wild abandon of my teenage years
    sure that love would conquer all.

    If I were older, I might not be so sure
    of the allure of my hair and skin and scent.
    I might be less trusting of your attention
    or more skeptical of your promises.

    If I were younger, I might be more in awe
    of the power of my youth over your age
    of the stability of your life without me
    of the rush of your embrace.

    If I were older, I might be just as taken
    with the strength of your arms.
    If I were younger, I might still crave your kiss.

  216. Jezzie

    If I were…..

    My faithful old dog lies at my feet
    beside me, hardly breathing.
    I watch for signs of life.
    I pray for signs of life.
    And then she twitches
    and in her dream she’s running
    chasing rabbits in the park.
    And I heave a sigh of relief.

    If I were braver and stronger,
    if I weren’t so fond of her,
    if I thought I could live life without her,
    if I were less selfish,
    if I knew how she actually feels,
    I could make that hard decision
    and take her on her final trip
    to the vet.

    She cannot hear, can hardly see,
    cannot walk far any longer.
    But while she still can hobble
    round the block beside me,
    while she still can enjoy her food,
    still can bark at the cats next door
    or at the dogs across the road,
    there’s still some quality of life
    in my old dog yet.

    How can I make that final decision?
    Maybe one night she will die in her sleep
    as she’s dreaming about chasing rabbits,
    and I will be left all alone to weep.

  217. Beverly Deirocini

    If I were younger

    If I were younger, I could fix all of my mistakes.
    Unspeak those words that I spoke and couldn’t grasp back.
    Say the words that so desperately needed escape.

    I would know to choose my battles,
    And realize I’m not always David facing the giant.
    Sticks and stones really do hurt especially when I hurl them.

    I would understand that life is quite unfair,
    And that it’s a good idea to keep enemies close,
    And never buy the matchbox to burn that bridge.

    I wouldn’t kiss on the first date,
    Or hand over my fragile heart so easily
    Thinking that my nakedness is the same thing as love.

    I would know that a glass of wine a night is necessary,
    That having passion and compassion are two different things,
    And that I should never walk away from a job without another.

    I could go back and rewrite my history
    Erase my mistakes and forge a new path
    The only problem is, I wouldn’t be me.

  218. Domino

    If I Were a Sparrow

    I would fly away from everyone
    and from everything oppressing me.
    And then, of course, once I had begun
    I’d fly high away from land and tree.
    My flying would take me to the sea
    where I would dive, and swoop, speed and soar
    and maneuver with such joyful glee
    that all that saw me could not ignore
    the sense of freedom they saw offshore.
    All those that saw me flying that day
    would wonder about it ever more;
    the stunning sparrow that flew astray.
    I would fly fast as any arrow
    If only I could be a sparrow.

    Diana Terrill Clark

  219. derrdevil

    If I Were A Conjecture Of Supposition
    By Derryn Warwick Raymond

    If I were a conjecture of supposition
    one that bestowes the weak to stand and bares their weight,
    what chaos befalls when that pillar breaks?
    For only but a mere lack of foresight,
    the weak are made strong as they feed of the bestowed
    Like cancerous cells attacking the central nerve –
    the very system that it is supported upon
    Ignorance rules heedlessly
    The weak are the majority,
    And to theirs is the favour
    lest we never forget

  220. susanjer

    If I Were a Cup of Concupiscent Curds

    I’d seduce your lips
    and whitewash your throat
    with promises we both know
    melt in an afternoon.

    When I am emptied
    leave me beneath mute gladiolas
    at the foot of the bed.
    Leave me for the cat
    with her indecent tongue,
    leave me for the washers
    with their opalescent suds.

  221. candy

    If I Were the Moon

    If I were the moon
    I’d slip silently through
    the gap in your curtains
    and gently kiss your cheek.

    If I were the moon
    I’d watch the rhythmic
    rise and fall of blankets
    as you softly breath in and out.

    If I were the moon
    I’d see you smile
    in a dreamland frisson.

    If I were the moon
    I’d be your
    midnight paladin.

  222. Eibhlin

    If I were your auntie, or your gran,
    I’d swoop you in my arms,
    sit you on my knee,
    and kiss the hurt place better.

    If we were living in another land,
    half the village would surround you,
    set you upright, laugh,
    and watch you skip away consoled.

    But being who I am, and where we are,
    I must sit upon my hands
    to disempower my arms,
    lest they fly to embrace you,
    hurt little girl.

  223. julie e.


    If I were thin and beautiful
    I’d stop the passersby
    with a smile and single flick of hair
    they’d be so sure that I
    must be Someone so Special
    –they just can’t think of who–
    they’d stop and stare and sneak to share
    on Instagram a photo view
    of me, so thin and beautiful.
    But since I’m merely me,
    where e’er I go there’s not a show,
    and the traffic flows freely.
    (Lucky me.)


  224. Walt Wojtanik


    …and if I were to look at you from across the room and you smile,
    will I know that I had touched something deeply without moving my feet?
    Does that one glance illicit the old fire; the slumbering ember
    that has crackled since the first day we would meet?

    …and if I were to see something in your eyes that flashes a semaphore;
    signals deciphered in the darkness that your gaze outshines,
    would my heart steer clear of the jagged rocks that had clouded our past
    and find safe harbor in your heart as you had in mine?

    …and if I were to allow these lips to dip down to sip the refreshing nectar
    that your passion has rekindled and your heart has shared,
    would our journey find a restful companionship in each other
    and seal the fate that brings the knowledge that we still cared?

    …and if I were to sing to you, the songs my soul has written,
    and offer them up to the heavens for the angels to sing along,
    would your step lighten and your dance be liberated,
    and would they tell you where my heart belongs?

    …and if I were to hold you in my arms, will that embrace
    erase all the turbulence that had shadowed our doubts and fears
    and bring us closer than ever to indulge the lives we have remaining,
    putting heartfelt meaning in the expression of our tears?

    …and if I were to whisper “I love you” in the mystic midnight darkness,
    would you respond in kind, knowing that was all I needed to stay,
    and give you every bit of me you would need to be completed
    because you wouldn’t want it any other way?

    And if I were to do all that, would you know I understand?

  225. starrynight3

    If I Were Lily

    My head would hang so
    Gracefully from my slender neck.
    Upon my entrance into the room
    Everyone would pause
    To admire,
    Offer me hors d’oeuvres
    Which I would demur with a slight
    Tilt of my head, taking instead
    The crystal stem of a white wine filled
    Allowing a glimpse of the moist dew
    Of my skin
    If I were lily.

    But I am sunflower and my head
    Turns with the sun,
    My face open and bursting
    With the seeds of desire.
    I do not notice your small admiration –

    My eyes look for the far horizon.

  226. Anvanya


    So, I added up the numerological significance of
    today’s date: it’s a seven, a day for spiritual going’s on.
    Had I known that yesterday, I would have realized that
    going to mass would be an overly-emotional affair,
    with tears and sniffing all the way through. Which it was,
    to my consternation, but good thing I had lots of
    tissues in my purse. The rector asked if I had a cold –
    and I replied that it was only allergies; you can’t
    catch hay fever.

    Bless my everlasting soul, if I were less allergic
    to the natural world of blooming spring
    and harvesting fall, the paper companies might
    go out of business! I read once that nasal allergies
    were a natural adaptation to living in the forests of
    northern Europe thousands of years ago.
    Obviously, our forests are related. Tomorrow fixes
    to add up to eight, the number for money and
    financial awareness: no amount of tissues needed:
    I plan to laugh all the way to the bank.

  227. Walt Wojtanik


    If I were the one that you loved,
    would it be an everlasting thing?
    Would I brighten your days?
    Would I make your heart sing
    if I were the one that you loved?

    If I were the one that you needed,
    would I fulfill all your desires?
    Would I spark your ember?
    Would it stoke your fire
    if I were the one that you needed?

    If I were the one that you wanted,
    would you truly take me in?
    Would our love burn unbridled?
    Would these feelings we share begin again
    if I were the one that you wanted.

    If I were the one that you dreamed of,
    would your nights be your heart’s pure vision?
    Would we meet in pastoral meadows?
    Would we soar like birds to new heights
    if I were the one that you dreamed of.

    If I were the one that shared my heart
    would you start to know how you’re loved?
    Would your days be a journey to bliss?
    Would your evenings be right for this kiss
    if I were the one?

  228. Tracy Davidson

    If I Were A Bath Sponge…

    …I would lather myself up,
    explore every nook and cranny
    of your wet naked body.

    I would start with your toes,
    caress feet and ankles, move up
    your well-developed calves
    and skim the back of your knees.

    I would slow down, taking my time
    in soft strokes up your thighs,
    enjoying the feel of taut, tensed muscles.

    I would skirt around your centre,
    saving the best for last.
    Brushing briefly across your buttocks
    I would move on up teasing your spine,
    massaging those broad shoulders
    and strong, well-muscled arms.
    Your long, firm, yet gentle fingers
    squeezing the wetness from me.

    Rubbing your chest, its six-pack
    rippling beneath me,
    moving in concentric circles
    around your erect nipples.
    Pulling gently at the hairs.

    Sweeping down to your navel,
    at last I reach your manhood,
    the very essence of what you are.

    I stroke your hardening shaft,
    stretch myself around you.
    The warm soapy water makes you slick.

    I slide up and down smoothly
    in a rhythm, instinctive, primal.
    You come and I absorb your seed,
    relishing that last connection.

    Then you rinse us both off
    and put me back upon the shelf.

  229. StephanieRosieG

    If I were bolder and crazier
    I would drive to New Mexico . . .
    To Las Cruces . . . to La Posta Restaurant.
    I’d sit at a table in my ex-husband’s section.
    I would take out the legal papers that rightfully
    return my retirement back to my ownership,
    and when he brought out the chips and salsa,
    I would put him in a headlock until
    he cried “Uncle!” (and maybe a little longer),
    and then I would order Combination Plate #1.

  230. Taylor Mali

    If I Were

    If I were humble, I’d be perfect.
    If I were perfect, I’d be boring.
    If I were boring, I’d be a beatle.
    If I were a Beatle, I’d be John.
    If I were John, I’d be the Baptist.
    If I were a Baptist, I’d lose my head.
    If I lost my head, I’d be crazy.
    If I were crazy, I’d be crazy in love.
    If I were crazy in love it would be with you.

  231. De Jackson

    If I Were Here

    (fully, truly, wholly)

    I would drink deep
    this breeze, and know
    these trees have things to say.

    I would play
    the song of my heart
    to the tune of these waves,
    be saved by my own shirred

    I would belong
    to these more quiet places,
    the centered spaces
    of my soul;
    be still, just know –
    and go home
              (fully, truly)


  232. LaurelRose

    If I were that pot you cook in

    I’d look larger from the outside.
    With all their hues of green and green,
    you’d pile vegetables in my water, and
    I’d hear them crying out dizzying songs
    while drowning.

    But, listen,
    I’d say, catching steam around my edges,
    salt sounds so beautiful when its breathing.

    And somehow later while you ate dinner,
    you’d forget about me in lieu of the limp flavor
    on your plate: the edible.

  233. De Jackson

    If I Were In Charge of the World
    (an Ovillejo)

    To be full understood
           I would
    with thorough, thoughtful care
           be there
    to see this madness through
           with you.
    Here’s something brutal, true:
    my breath caught, whirled,
    my heart unfurled,
                    I would be there with you.


  234. SuziBwritin

    “If I were king of the forest…not queen, not duke, not prince” –
    Cowardly Lion in Wizard of Oz


    If I were a different girl
    if I weren’t me
    and if I were rich
    beautiful –
    a fashion model even –
    a 10…not a 9 or an 8 or a 4
    Instead of
    the girl with “a lotta personality”
    a wacky sense of humor
    that witty way with words and puns
    in an accent that stands out
    like a gas explosion in the Midwest
    if I were powerful
    instead of
    that invisible, middle-aged housewife
    who speaks her mind in no uncertain terms
    ignoring political correctness sometimes
    and charging in because she cares
    cares so deeply that
    passion sometimes overcomes sense!

    Well, then things might be different
    but even if I were a genie to myself
    and could grant the wish to change
    who I am and where I’ve been
    I wouldn’t!

  235. Debbie


    I can’t hear, can you?
    I try so hard to do,
    the natural thing —
    to speak, to sing;
    my ears won’t pull me through.

    But wait, my eyes can see.
    I see you looking at me.
    The tender care
    within your stare
    will soon be the gifted key.

    Your patience and your strife
    have given me new life.
    The long hours you’ve kept;
    the times you’ve felt inept,
    convey my efforts, now rife.

    Thank you for your time,
    and your love, so very prime.
    I feel I am secure,
    and future lessons I can endure.
    The ladder to success is mine to climb.

  236. Susan

    Happy Birthday, poet Jericho Brown! For Day 14: http://susanspoetry.blogspot.com/2014/04/if-i-were-braver.html

    If I were Braver

    If I were brave or frozen
    or foolish, I’d hide an awe-
    full secret from those I love.

    I’d let it melt common sense
    in me and then erase my hard drive
    so my poems are wasted.

    If I were brave and frozen
    and foolish, I would stay home
    near the social secret glue.

    I’d let it seal my lips and
    make me forget my own song
    started with joy at my birth.

    If I were braver and thawed
    and curious I’d quest for
    my song and sing loud and long.

    I would sing the secret too
    and it would lose its power
    to undermine my spirit.

    Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast

    Posted for 2014 April PAD Challenge: Day 14 about “what if ….”

  237. Liliuokalani

    If I Were Bigger

    If I were a flea, I’d be in the circus.
    I’d plunge through loops of fire,
    twist off trapeze,
    and blow “Yakety Yak”on my kazoo.
    But if built bigger –
    a hippopotamus, perhaps,
    dropping deep in a river’s abyss,
    tippy toes fixed to silt,
    back snaking sluggish, then still –

    I collect tumbling baobab blooms;
    my face agape, a lawn chair unfolded
    for migrating moths –
    flopping and flickering dim from fatigue –
    who refresh tissue arms and feather feet
    on my ear’s whisker tips and cusps of my teeth.
    If I were bigger, my sighs of reverence,
    melting to stars,
    would wash them warm
    and then to sleep.

  238. Mr. Take The Lead

    If I were asked to define Greatness
    Daniel R. Simmons
    Greatness is more about preserving through challenges than it is about comfort and convenience. You see, sometimes greatness is more tears than smiles.
    Sometimes greatness is more about trying again after failures than public victories.
    Sometimes greatness is more about being hated for standing up for what you know in your heart is right, than to be loved and supported.
    Sometimes greatness is more about breaking silly rules and traditions in order to bring about true change than it is about conforming and being a goodie two-shoes.
    Sometimes greatness is more about being and doing things that make you uncomfortable than it is about being comfortable.
    Sometimes greatness is more about the small private victories than public successes.
    Sometimes greatness is more about the amount of lives you’ve helped than the amount of your net worth.
    Sometimes greatness is more about doing what you HAVE to than it is about doing what you feel like doing.
    Sometimes greatness is more about working than it is sleeping.
    Sometimes greatness is more about pushing through hardship than it is having an easy life. Sometimes greatness is more about moving forward past your mistakes and pitfalls than it is about getting and doing everything right the first time around.
    Greatness is more about being productively unknown than it is about being popular.
    Sometimes greatness is more about overcoming your broken heart broken moments in which you felt like quitting than it is about your moments of confidence and determination.
    Sometimes greatness’ integrity is proven in the temptations you resist in the dark than what is overcome in the light. Sometimes the service of greatness is more about who you’ve helped behind closed doors than about who you’ve helped openly. Sometimes greatness goes unrewarded. Sometimes greatness robs you of sleep, friendships and relationships-Yes sometimes greatness causes you to walk alone.
    Sometimes greatness even costs you your life.
    But the moment you weigh all these things and still want to go on and fulfill what you know what you were called to do is the moment you become great.
    Yes there are many different views on greatness
    From the rich and poor
    Known and unknown
    But if for whatever reason
    The world would want greatness is to me
    I would simply respond with a poetic rhythm and melody.

  239. foodpoet

    If I were asleep
    Would dreams come?
    Would the day behind vanish?
    Would the dreams calm
    Or turn to nightmare talons?
    Would the talons slice away
    The frozen dream?
    Since I don’t know,
    I stay awake

    Megan McDonald

  240. foodpoet

    If I were asleep

    If I were asleep

    Into dream

    Wanting waiting still awake
    Echoes of the day
    Echoes of the day

    As sleep eludes and
    Soft slumber will not come in
    Late night
    Echoes of the day repeat
    Each night is
    Ponderous long if I were…

    Megan McDonald

  241. foodpoet

    If I were asleep

    If I were asleep

    Into dream

    Wanting waiting still awake
    Echoes of the day
    Echoes of the day

    As sleep eludes and
    Soft slumber will not come in
    Late night
    Echoes of the day repeat
    Each night is
    Ponderous long if I were…

  242. Linda Goin

    If I were all about humble

    I would trick you into believing
    I wasn’t monster; but, I am monster

    hummingbird and the entire world
    is red for me. Not blood or brick,

    but ruby-at-night scarlet delight,
    steeped in cherry bittersweet,

    flushed with burgundy, breathing in
    bloom until I radiate temptation.

    If I could, I would trick you
    into believing I don’t burn,

    but I am burning omnivorous
    and unsatisfied humming.

  243. LCaramanna

    If I Were a Saxophone

    If I were a saxophone
    I’d wail
    long into the night
    glinting golden in the hazy lights of a jazz club,
    tantalized by hot breath, fast fingers
    of musician’s love making,
    my music
    would move
    beyond ears to touch souls
    of aficionados with eyes closed,
    expecting melancholy melody recognizable
    drift away to uncharted territory
    If I were a saxophone
    I’d wail high and low, jazz it up,
    sizzle the music sweltering
    until the haze of the club
    If I were a saxophone,
    I’d make music as the last listener eased away.
    Tickled by cool breath, tender touches
    of musician’s love making music,
    I’d linger over
    the sensual sounds of a solo saxophone.

  244. Elizabeth C.

    Re-Visioning Consequences

    Reincarnation creates a ripple of thought.
    Age rewound, redone, remade, reformed.
    Soft flannel warmth in winter of life.

    Getting old may sound like dried
    weeds rattling in Autumn wind.
    Reincarnation creates a ripple of thought.

    Rare opportunity to begin again,
    start over in new guise, second chance.
    Age rewound, redone, remade, reformed.

    Anything that heightens hope should
    be defended, pulled close to heart,
    soft flannel warmth in winter of life.

    Elizabeth Crawford 4/14/14

  245. candy

    If I Were Completely Truthful

    I’d tell you I never
    liked your Tuna Noodle casserole
    I’d walk away from your
    boring conversations
    and toss out all the
    magazines that litter the carpet
    I wouldn’t smile when I
    pick up your dirty socks
    and stop ordering Chinese
    I’d turn off the TV
    and make you talk to me

    If I were completely truthful
    I’d be alone

  246. Ravyne

    If I Were Happier, I’d Be Infectious

    My mood is a track star
    pounding the pavement
    to the cheers and jeers of the crowd
    I set my pace not by my clock
    but by yours —
    My esteem hangs in the locker room

    But if I were happier
    just think of how infectious I would be!

    I would play it up for the crowd
    hands held high as I run
    circling the track with the flag
    The crowd would frame their tickets
    and tell their grandchildren about me
    about the day I infected them all
    with grace and a smile —
    It would be my golden moment

    But my life is not of track and field
    it hasn’t even left the locker room
    it hasn’t even made it to the locker room
    It’s still holed-up back at home
    hiding under the bed
    a coward, shaken with fear

    Copyright 2014
    Lori Carlson

  247. Misky

    If I Were Just a Wee Bit Wetter

    I rarely
    hear the rain
    seldom speak to clouds,
    and I watch weather
    on a vane, and listen
    to the BBC.

    There’s hope in
    throats of daffodils,
    where bees feast, suck
    it dry, and yes, age is like
    an ice cube – melting
    and left there to dry.

    I am old but nowhere
    nearly done, still rising,
    yes, to fly in rain, in clouds,
    where I’ll not be dry, I’ll
    be wet as drips. You’ll
    find me there, in the sky.


    (c) Misky 2014

  248. Brian Slusher


    If I were evil
    I would court
    In badness
    I would not be slack
    I’d carry
    Dead flowers,
    Purr Let’s topple

    Then go dressed
    In classic black

    If I were malicious
    I would wax
    My next crime
    Nobody could guess
    I’d steal
    All shoelaces,
    Make hideous
    At infants
    Trying to rest

    If I were wicked
    I’d throw dung
    On your head
    And you’d smell
    Like Hell all day long
    If you tried
    To shower
    I’d replace
    Your water
    With unfresh
    Urine from hogs

    So if you are wise
    Don’t want worms
    in your fries
    Prefer life
    Plague, pestilence free
    Why not then
    Send flowers
    And maybe
    I won’t turn
    All evilly.

  249. Gammelor

    For today’s prompt, take the phrase “If I Were (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem.

    If I Were Three

    I’d climb Mt. Katahdin
    all the way up,
    and when we reached top
    I’d ask,
    When do we start to climb?
    For we hadn’t had to scrabble
    on hands and knees
    nor learned to use pitons and ropes.

    Now my excitement is
    trips to buy groceries
    cookouts next door
    occasional mild vacation.
    My mind still eager and wild,
    my body incompetent.

    Gammelor Goodenow

  250. De Jackson

    If I Were Blank

    a sheet unshed
    mere words unsaid
    still parched and white
    a quill clenched tight,
              would you file me as lost?

    If I were filled
    a lifetime willed
    to page, now quenched,
    an ink stain drenched,
              what then would be the cost?


  251. diedre Knight

    If I were… the window

    A portal to the messages
    so often misconstrued
    fanning through the vestiges;
    Our lifetimes in review
    Panoramic snapshots, tapestries of time
    woven ‘round the mysteries
    of complicated minds
    The deeds of cagey dancers,
    If feathers would be plucked,
    would therein lie the answer
    to why mean people suck?

    diedre Knight

  252. Scribbling Sue


    If I were you, and you were me,
    If I could wave a magic wand,
    Think how different life might be.

    I’d lie in bed, you’d bring me tea,
    I’d smile at you and you’d respond,
    If I were you, and you were me.

    I’d never pray a silent plea
    That you’d have tried to be more fond,
    Think how different life might be.

    For you’d have saved this legal fee
    And never run off with that blonde,
    If I were you, and you were me.

    You’ve left me now, a divorcee
    With shattered sacred marriage bond.
    Think how different life might be.

    I’ll drown my sorrows, drink Chablis,
    Sit under my self-righteous tree.
    If I were you, and you were me,
    Think how different life might be.

    Suzanne Lalor
    14th April 2014

  253. Lady S Poetic Thickness

    If I Were You

    I would break promises
    Speak words of love
    Knowing they were lies

    Place my own selfish desires
    Above everyone else’s
    Because I am all that matters

    Walk away from my responsibilities
    Leave my children with their mother’s
    Never caring to be involved in their lives

    I would sleep around
    Bouncing from one bedroom
    Into another…because I can

    There would be a jar of broken hearts
    Sitting among a waterfall of tears
    Displaying my handiwork

    My mouth would lure you in
    As love danced across my lips
    Seeking only to please myself

    Life would be laced with party scenes
    A harem of women to dine upon nightly
    All while pulling at the strings of their lonely hearts

    Games would be played
    Honesty would be a word I never used
    Commitment would never be birthed

    Loneliness would be my future
    Fear lurking around every corner
    Because I will reap what I sow

    ©Sheila Moseley
    Lady S-Poetic Thickness

  254. pomodoro

    If I Were to Imagine the Eve of My Conception

    January, 1949
    Wind steered sleet sideways.
    Russia had the nuclear bomb
    and the Cold War dance shuffled on.
    My father drove through the tempest,
    not thinking of tensions between East and West
    or imagining men in cloth caps foraging for food.
    He came home dog-tired and scrubbed off foundry grime.
    Maybe he sat on the couch in front of the Philco,
    eating his wife’s chicken soup and
    listening to Perry Como croon,
    ‘A you’re adorable, B you’re so beautiful…’
    He might have smiled when she settled close,
    and put her hand over his,
    warming the space between them.
    They did the washing up,
    then climbed the stairs
    without words.

  255. shellaysm

    If I Were Me
    (a Nonet)

    If I were stronger, leaner, taller,
    more flexible, carefree, flawless,
    forgiving, braver, wild, rich
    wiser, artistic or
    perhaps then I’d
    wish I were
    more like

    Michele K. Smith

  256. Cameron Steele

    Point of View

    If I were braver or less sensitive
    or more open, like one of the prairie pasques
    in Spring, if I held my shoulders up
    like dad asked, if I didn’t bend like
    switchgrass in the wind, if I were
    a believer in fate or that good things
    come in threes, and the third tragedy
    will always be the last, if I could
    wake up on April mornings without
    wanting to cry, without needing to splash
    my face with tepid water because the cold
    has always been too much, if I were
    to fall asleep without biting my tongue
    or tracing the names of strangers in the dark
    or spinning a diamond ring I didn’t buy
    myself around my too-skinny finger,
    if I could dream of you instead
    of the man who stripped me down
    and watched me bleed, if I had been
    strong enough to say no instead of
    staring out the window of the guest bedroom,
    watching prostrate knotweeds blow against
    a chain-link fence, if I had met you
    before him, or better yet, if I were
    a man, could I finally forget what it feels
    like to spend the first of every season
    pretending to be unafraid, plotting
    to dye my hair or cut it up to my chin
    so it won’t feel heavy on my shoulders,
    so maybe, for a moment, I can straighten my back?

  257. creilley


    Old friends – people that I’ve known for years
    Style themselves as monsters
    As watches and clocks twitch with silent laughter.
    The mind refuses to hold discourse
    So I am forced to hold conversations
    With my feet, walking away from irony.

    The best counsel is to turn out the pockets of your life
    Stuff your backpack with extra nothing
    And carry on. Lighten your load. Hit the road.
    Doors will slam, they have no choice.
    Houses will bare their window-teeth
    As they smile you a good-bye.

    The trail you make is healthier
    Than the one you follow, until you lose your way.
    But you must walk until you find
    Where the horizon meets the sky,
    Walk as if there is no greater destination
    Than the footsteps you just left behind.

  258. dhaivid3

    Poem Title: If I were the Pope

    If I were the Pope
    I would do the right thing
    Speak words that bring healing
    And change Her from within.

    The filth that has made Her
    A shade of pure evil
    A pawn of destruction
    The friends of the devil

    I’d speak words that I must
    And regain the world’s trust.
    Although some have no faith
    With patience I will wait.

    I’d serve with my words and
    My actions to make sure
    All victims get justice
    For what they have endured.

    For years of abuse and
    The pain that some have wrought
    I’d move very swiftly
    Not giving too much thought

    To fears of the culprits
    And doers of bad deeds
    But focus on victims
    And how to meet their needs.

    Though it seems so bleak now
    I’d try to bring them hope
    And justice for all wrongs –
    That’s if I were the Pope.

    1. dhaivid3

      Apologies, I posted the wrong version of this poem. I forgot to omit a verse that I do not agree with.
      So, here is the actual poem.

      Poem Title: If I were the Pope

      If I were the Pope
      I would do the right thing
      Speak words that bring healing
      And change Her from within.

      I’d speak words that I must
      And regain the world’s trust.
      Although some have no faith
      With patience I will wait.

      I’d serve with my words and
      My actions to make sure
      All victims get justice
      For what they have endured.

      For years of abuse and
      The pain that some have wrought
      I’d move very swiftly
      Not giving too much thought

      To fears of the culprits
      And doers of bad deeds
      But focus on victims
      And how to meet their needs.

      Though it seems so bleak now
      I’d try to bring them hope
      And justice for all wrongs –
      That’s if I were the Pope.

  259. writinglife16

    If I were brave

    If I were brave
    I’d walk out the door.
    Gather the pieces
    of my soul
    from the floor.

    If I were strong
    I would not stay with you
    I wouldn’t just settle
    To myself
    I’d be true.

    One day, I’ll gather
    my courage
    and say good-bye.
    And when I do
    My soul will fly.

  260. Connie Peters

    If I were Allergic to my Computer

    My house would be clean,
    I would be thin
    from cooking healthy meals
    and spending time at the gym.
    I’d finish the books I’m reading
    and spend more time with my family.
    I’d have lunch with friends,
    keeping long overdue promises.
    I’d plant a garden, do yard work,
    paint my house.
    If I were allergic to my computer
    I’d have to write longhand
    and that would be no fun.

  261. Connie Peters

    If I were my Cat

    I’d be photogenic.
    I’d cozy up in crocheted afghans,
    wiggle my whiskers,
    lick my lips and dream of tuna.
    When I got an energy spurt
    I’d race up and down the hall
    like a crazy person
    and climb the walls.
    I’d chirp at light
    dancing on the ceiling
    or sit in a sunny window.
    I’d insist on lying on the laptop
    and let my human watch the screen
    between my ears.
    She’d stroke my fur
    and treat me like a queen.
    I’d do whatever I want,
    and take the world on my own terms.
    I’d choose my friends
    and turn my nose up at everyone else.
    If I were my cat, I’d have it made.

  262. Connie Peters

    If I Were a More Avid Reader

    My world wouldn’t be so small.
    I ‘d jet around the planet,
    go back in time
    and off into the future,
    without leaving my recliner.
    But alas, I’m so consumed
    with my to-do list;
    I may shrink to a speck of dust
    and blow away in the wind.

  263. Michele Brenton

    To my husband.

    If I were able
    I’d make them understand
    that being different
    is a gift to the world
    that draws attention,
    takes us out of
    the easy roll down the hill,
    makes stopping places for reflection
    and those are the spaces
    where magic happens
    and love begins.

    Michele Brenton 14th April 2014.

  264. hojawile

    If I were…
    born in the 1920s,
    I could communicate face to face
    and without drppng vwls in msgs
    typed with my thumbs.

    If I were the driver ahead of me,
    I might reduce my speed before that
    officer noticed I was flying a rocket.

    If I were a grape, I might let out a little whine
    or shrivel up in the sunshine.

    If I were a puppet, you’d control everything I did,
    but the vacant stare in my eyes would give you nightmares.

    If I were to have any down time, I’d have a lot of trouble
    getting this ole body back up again.

    If I were to have some claim to fame, I’d either be plagued by paparazzi
    setting me on a high pedestal from which to knock me down
    or I’d be a hermit, but I’m too private for one and too social for the other.
    I’m okay with keeping me a secret
    as long as family and friends know who I am…and love me anyway.

    If I were that cheery daffodil outside, I’d be stuck in a pot of dirt, looking fine,
    but not having eyes to see anything to cheer ME. That’s the sacrifice a daffodil makes.

    If I were to love my kids less, I’d give them whatever they wanted all the time,
    And let them become a hot mess.

    If I were three inches taller, my slacks and sleeves might just be the right length, but
    I’d have no excuse to pester people I love to come get that thing down
    from the shelf for me, and they wouldn’t getting any stretching exercise, and then they’d shrink
    down to my size, and then how would we ever get that thing down from the shelf?

    If I were to have been born into money, I would miss out on the thrill of creative honest
    ways to stretch a dollar, I would miss out on knowing my incredible friends who, like me,
    have no money in the bank to worry about, but are rich in love and other gems.
    I might make a charity commercial while flying in my private jet to my private island,
    wooing others to give the shirts off their backs to help the cause. Most of all, I would have no appreciation for duck tape or compassion for those annoyed
    because they think it should be called duct tape.

    If I were not needing to leave for work, I might go on writing all day and you would have no time for your own life because you’d be so engrossed in reading this, you could not tear yourself away from it.

  265. donaldillich

    If I Were a ______.

    I’d fill myself with chocolate, cabbage,
    crayfish, eggs, bacon, buckwheat.

    Tell the police to come after me,
    watch them fall through my line
    to where the stars never end.

    Throw myself against oceans,
    taking waves, whales, starfish
    into me, void them with an eraser.

    Become a bouncer at a club,
    measuring the people in line
    with my blank, letting in those
    who fit the space. Challenge

    a fire, helping the firefighters
    by eating the flames, turning
    them into water and air. Remain

    still on the page, waiting for
    someone to place their name,
    to add their addresses, so
    the transaction can be finished,
    so that I’m ignored once used,
    stuck under the signature forever.

    Turn into whatever you seek
    in the story of your life, the dream
    identity sealed when you shoot
    your new name with light,
    cutting into the shadow
    of everything else. Write

    yourself into a will for a furture.
    Turn the dust of parents
    into solid gold. But wish for them.
    Find the riches empty. Your
    stomach inside out. All you
    desire is for them to erupt
    from the crypt, living, whole.
    Bringing words with them.

  266. CristinaMRNorcross

    If I Were That Blade of Grass

    Honey touched dew would
    glide down my shoulder,
    offering succor for the season’s
    dry, parched earth.

    If I were that blade of grass,
    young squirrels would
    launch themselves onto branches,
    using my strong, frond-like length
    as a trampoline.

    If I were that blade of grass,
    I would be in danger of suffering nibbles
    from deer and small rabbits,
    but I would let them.
    My capacity for growth
    is endless.

    If I were that blade of grass,
    I would sing in the wind,
    like the sound a wine glass makes
    when touched on the rim –
    liquid circles of high notes
    and low tones.

    If I were that blade of grass,
    I would welcome both the new green
    and the fading brown –
    accept my short comings
    and keep growing.

    Cristina M. R. Norcross
    Copyright 2014

  267. kldsanders

    : If I Were

    If I were single
    I would live in a tiny house.
    completely free from the
    burden of stuff.
    Free of the weight that comes
    from having too much.
    No need to dust.

    If I were different
    I would probably be cruel.
    No filters on my tongue
    to keep me from saying
    What shouldn’t be said.

    If I were rich
    I would travel the world.
    My bucket list would never
    end, and I would see all that
    I have only dreamed of.


    If I were single,
    If I were different,
    If I were rich….

    I wouldn’t be
    His wife.
    Their mother.
    Their daughter.
    Her sister.
    Their friend.

    If I were different,
    I wouldn’t know the
    joy of being me.

    -Karen Sanders

  268. dhaivid3

    Poem title: If I were blank

    If I were blank then there’d
    Be a reason today
    A simple explanation
    For things being this way.

    The lack of fine features
    Common in most creatures
    The wrong phi measurements
    Would sure make recompense!

    I’d know why dear Maya
    – With lots to admire –
    Gets phone calls at midnight
    Whilst wishing me “sleep tight”.

    Accepting my loss
    My wig I would toss
    And not bother trying
    – And I’d stop all this crying!

    But I am not blank
    A featureless creature;
    I’m made in His image
    And this gives me courage.

    So there go all blank thoughts
    – Along with all sorrows!
    I sleep tight knowing there’s
    A better tomorrow!

  269. aphotic soul

    If I Were…
    By Paul Andrew Ryan

    If I were one year closer to death, my birthday it would be,
    One year closer to my last final breath, and a step closer to being free,
    We mix and match these feelings and dreams, of the fears we cannot come to terms,
    For most people muffle their silent screams, as the increase in age confirms,

    It’s a celebration when you’re young, for it’s a step closer to being yourself,
    But after a while to your age you’ve clung, and slowly it starts to siphon your health,
    We dress death up in costumes, disguise it in any way,
    We’re afraid to face our inevitable dooms, afraid to see life in gray,

    But there can beauty in an overcast day, seeing life in black and whites,
    And this is where most people stay, never realizing there are more exuberant sights,
    People throw their lives away, too afraid to turn out the lights,
    No matter what they try and say, they give full control to their frights,

    Because in this dreary dream, reality is never what it seems,
    So in thoughts I delicately dance, in an irreversible entrenched trance,
    Because most just go along with life’s dismal theme, never realizing it’s a setup scheme,
    It’s best to live life by more than just a glance, for it’s better to live with a purpose or stance,

    So when you’re done running away from death, and he comes knocking at your door,
    Greet him as your creation Macbeth, because from your writing your life can never be tore,
    And I wish I could say there might be something more…
    But in reality death is a message in a bottle sent offshore.

    No hopes, no dreams, only darkness,
    Nothing more.

  270. DanielR

    If I were a happy ending
    I would be expected
    in classic fairy tales,
    romantic movies, and
    sensual massages
    but happiness is elusive
    requiring a steady, watchful eye
    hard work and sweat equity
    I would not be easy…
    If I were a happy ending

    Daniel Roessler

  271. Monique


    If I were single for the rest of my life
    I would spend my days perfecting my words
    I would experiment with film and web video
    To work for the days when I can be paid to do what I love
    To share my passion with the world

    If I were married to an earthly man
    My life would give inspiration to my work
    Through good times and bad, I would always love him
    Teacher and writer, mother and wife
    Playing different roles in the span of a day

    If I were married to God
    I would share my life with the world
    Living my faith through my actions and words
    Inspiring others to seek Him
    And helping the less fortunate

    All of these paths are good
    But once I choose a path, there is no turning back
    Until I come to that crossroads
    All these lifestyles are mere daydreams
    Fantasies of what could be

  272. writinglife16

    If I were brave

    If I were brave
    I’d walk out the door.
    Gather the pieces
    of my soul from the floor.

    If I were strong
    I would not stay with you
    I wouldn’t just settle
    To myself I’d be true.

    One day, I’ll gather my courage
    I’ll say good-bye.
    And when I do
    My soul will fly.

  273. dhaivid3

    Poem title: If I were Mathematics

    If I were mathematics
    I’d make all children love me
    I’d make these numbers easy
    And algebra a laugh.

    But I’m not mathematics
    So kids please view those numbers
    Not as blockades to success
    But subjects you can surpass.

  274. DanielR

    Nothing here seems familiar to me
    another airport, different city
    and taxicabs that drop me at the curb
    hotel door signs that read “do not disturb”

    In crowded rooms, I do my best to blend
    shaking hands and smiling like I’m a friend
    but I don’t remember one single face
    it’s just another place I’m out of place

    Through many years, what I have come to know
    restlessness chases me wherever I go
    so while I run, I cannot run away
    and won’t until my final dying day

    I search for what eludes me everywhere
    if only I were not a stranger here

    Daniel Roessler

  275. Espen Stenersrod

    Day 14

    If I were to make Empty Music

    My Vocal chord would be in restraint
    Refusing the melodic proposal
    Handed on a plate
    In all simplicity

    Leaving an already naked sound wave
    Meaning empty
    Consist of nothing

    But still considered music in someones ears

    There will always be a voice
    Desperate to fill that flat empty space
    Of a melody line with their emptiness

    because it could be their chance

    Blind to everything else than that
    They will grab it
    With no consideration of how their vocal chord would feel
    Leaving its mark in something cold, empty and bitter sweet

  276. Beth Rodgers

    If I were a better decision maker
    Trepidation wouldn’t lurk
    When uncertainty popped up.
    Hours could be wiled away
    On whatever my instincts fancied.
    Questions would become answers
    Spontaneity would be more commonplace.
    Decisions would not be fraught with aggravation
    Rather they would be a welcome distraction.

  277. DanielR

    If I were your smile
    I would grow as large as I could
    reaching out to meet your laugh lines
    extending toward that dimple on your chin
    revealing your heart to the world

    If I were your smile
    I would chase each trail of tears away
    with the ferociousness of a young
    puppy running after children in the yard

    If I were your smile
    I would find joy in gracing the most
    beautiful face in the world

    If I were your smile
    I would stay forever

    If I were your smile

    Daniel Roessler

  278. Gwyvian

    If I were a question

    If I were a question, I’d attach myself
    to everything you know, and haunt you night and day
    till you can answer me and melt me into mist,
    but even beyond the grave where questions go to, I
    would persist and utter myself on your lips unaware,
    just before conclusions settle in and you think
    you know me – I would have you ask me about
    sun and stars and all of your existence, just so
    when I finally decide to go, you could be sure of
    your answers – but if I were a question, perhaps
    I would not be needed, for your mind would expand
    without me, bridges cast across a sea of reality wherefrom
    I come, unbidden or summoned, and I would not need
    to be voiced for speculation to infest your box of truth;
    but should I deem it necessary, I would
    be a web to ensnare you unawares if you waver,
    a simple stop to the foolishness you get up to—
    I would be small, but profound in importance, and,
    at the end: I would question even the need of myself.

    April 14, 2014

    By: Lucy K. Melocco

  279. DanielR

    I would relax and fall
    without fighting it
    pouring myself out
    on thirsty fields
    spattering against windows
    trickling down open umbrellas
    filling holes and forming puddles

    If I were rain
    I would have purpose and meaning
    washing away yesterdays and
    cleansing, renewing and purifying
    making your world pristine again
    growing grass so green and
    roses so red, that there would be
    no doubt, I love you

    Daniel Roessler

  280. Earl Parsons

    If I Were A Rich Man
    (You know the chorus)

    If I were a rich man
    There is so much I could do to help the people that cannot
    I would help as many as I could
    If I were a wealthy man
    I would really work hard
    ‘Cause so many people need the help a rich man can afford
    If God blessed me with a healthy bank
    I would pay it forward to the poor

    © 2014 Earl Parsons

  281. taylor graham


    The swallows swooping over the field
    of wild oats purple vetch foxtails poppies
    and yes ripgut brome, the things we seeded
    things we didn’t but they grew anyway
    under small rain and more sun that makes
    me sweat my back ache my hands tingle
    with the vibes of 2-stroke motor and I’m
    much too old to be weed-eating this field to
    rake into windrows to turn and turn again
    to pack salted into empty dogfood bags
    for summer feeding of six ungrateful sheep
    we only keep to graze the brittling grass
    down so we’re fire-safe in drought’s inferno.
    If I were practical I wouldn’t love this place.

  282. Andrew Kreider

    Emergency Visit

    If I were a vet
    I would do the surgery myself
    Or I’d ask a colleague
    to do it for me
    since I hate inflicting
    pain on the ones I love.

    If I were a millionaire
    or even fairly well off
    I’d probably just pony up
    and not think twice about
    paying that much to replace
    a torn knee ligament

    But I am neither. I sit
    on a formica bench with her
    at my feet and ask myself
    how bad a person it makes me
    if I’m willing to live with
    a three-legged dog.

  283. dhaivid3

    May your days be long Professor.

    Poem Title: If I were a wishing Well

    If I were a Wishing well
    Why, that’d be swell!

    I’d watch people who come to my brim,
    Watch them throw their pennies in.

    I’d smile and sigh in my bowels
    When ladies come forth with their towels

    Not to bathe, oh no!
    But to wish for love, crying out their souls.

    And young men practising their love speeches
    Some in top hats, some in breeches.

    I’d patiently hear them tell
    All their love to this here old Well

    Then I’d bid them farewell
    And again be me, a mere well

    And hope that someday they’d find
    What most troubles their minds.

    Whilst hoping that someday they’d learn
    That I am just an old well

    That all you can get from me is water (when I must)
    Else it’s nothing but old dust!

    For the lessons of wishing and working are these –
    Anddo pay attention please –

    That to wish and not to work
    Is to be foolish indeed
    And to work with no dreams
    is to presently eat all your seed.

    So while I’m labelled different
    And sit here feeling ancient

    I am (the truth I must tell)
    A simple, plain old (Wishing) Well.

    Good night.

  284. Gwyvian

    If I were a game

    If I were a game, I’m sure you’d play me fairly,
    you control my board and my pieces would
    obey your commands—
    but am I chess, do we trade tactics? do we battle
    with false friendly smiles? but I forget myself,
    if I am the game, I would not be playing it…
    would I have strings attached, perhaps tokens
    to lose and win back? I’m sure that you would
    try to gain the upper hand, but
    if I was the game, you would never need to win me;
    would I be rather a game of intrigue,
    where I kept you guessing? if that is so,
    then I only have one chance to grab your attention:
    once you know and my secret is out, I can only hope
    that you would not just set me aside
    to gather dust on a shelf; perhaps, at least,
    I’d hope that you played my game with personality,
    and kept in character throughout—
    even if that means that when I’m here to entertain,
    our relationship is a sweet web of spun lies; yet,
    perhaps, I would enjoy that more
    than feeling the desolate emptiness seep from
    your fingers as you hold my figurines,
    the lack of purpose in your eyes as you study me—
    if I were a game, I’d wish at least to coax a smile
    onto your stony face; but, perhaps, if I were a game
    I’d have no place in your life to begin with – if that is so,
    then I’d be a game to match the ages,
    irresistible and enthralling, full of vibrancy and
    intricate enough to shame the finest lace:
    if I were a game for the likes of you,
    I’d be the game of life itself.

    April 14, 2014

    By: Lucy K. Melocco

  285. Michelle Hed

    Happy Birthday Jericho Brown!!

    If I Were a Song

    what song would I be?
    Would the tune be slow and sad?
    Or would the tune be happy?
    Would I fall into the classical genre?
    Perhaps country music is my home, no?
    Well then, a bit of pop surely must be my place, yes?

    Would the song focus on a feature?
    An epic melody to my eyes?
    Or perhaps the song would wax poetical
    about my faded chocolate tresses,
    highlighted with silver, yes? No?
    Well then surely my smile would be the ticket, yes?

    Or perhaps the song would encompass all of me;
    every line, wrinkle, silver strand
    and every personality flaw and strength
    and this song would drop its notes
    with every step I take,
    weaving a melody in my wake.

  286. Gwyvian

    If I were a mask

    If I were a mask, I would be sleek satin,
    with velvet patterns snaking vines across, and
    I would have gems to sparkle, rubies of a deep
    blood-red for heritage, cool sapphire to
    express your innate seas – moonstones and pearls
    to ask for the blessings of this moonlit night, and
    illusionist’s plumes of fire to wreathe—
    I would hide your eyes but set you free, for
    from the depths of my shade, you are an enigma,
    and no longer need to speak words untrue, or
    leave things unsaid—
    if I were a mask, I would be one of truth
    and justice to your heart which flutters, a steady
    and calming veil to unclench your twisted stomach,
    and behind my façade, those deep pools
    can see truth uncut, your words no longer oblique,
    but suggesting more
    than you would ever say without me;
    hidden in my embrace, you would be unveiled,
    your hunger stark in a sea of opaque individuality—
    and if you see the one who steals your breath,
    with me, you would never hesitate, for this
    is the carnival of life we dance in,
    a theater you are masked in, and yet
    left unashamed of instincts stripped of social codes…
    just beware that the dam is broken slowly, and
    remember to take me off once in a while:
    so you can breathe easy, your secrets safe,
    but recognized still as a deep part of you—
    and not inherently me…

    April 14, 2014

    By: Lucy K. Melocco

  287. dhaivid3

    Poem title: If I were in love

    I’d skip.
    If I were in love
    I’d fly high above
    Feel the wind in my face
    Give nature a chase
    In parks all around
    This city and in towns.
    I’d run for miles
    And, never short of breath
    I’d laugh at nothing!
    Just the thought of that face
    Laughing with me
    Would fill me with glee.
    I’d miss breakfast
    And never feel thirst.
    I’d smile at crowds
    And shouting out loud
    ask the world to dance and sway
    each and every day!
    I do these now.
    Already! Today!
    But I am positively, emphatically, not in love. I can’t be!
    So why do I feel this way?

  288. anneemcwilliams

    If I Were One of my Gram’s

    id have the national inquirer and a bible
    on the coffee table, next to a bowl
    of ribbon candy and gum drops.
    i’d keep fate and true detective
    on my nightstand and big print crosswords
    in the bathroom. i’d wash up at the sink.
    i’d worry that the well’d run dry,
    and leave behind a years worth of bar soap.
    i’d have rag rugs everywhere, and quilts, and afghans.
    and doilies. i’d embroider my linens.
    i’d have feather ticks and scratchy white sheets.
    id have a close press, full of dresses from
    every year since 1940, hung so tightly
    that a sheet of paper wouldn’t fit between them.
    i’d wear big plastic earrings and garden in a wool sweater
    with a safety pin button and a hankie in the pocket.
    i’d carry juicy fruit and root beer barrels in my hand bag.
    i’d put my stockings on with worn church gloves
    and wear rubber-band garters. i’d crimp my hair
    into finger waves and wear rouge and powder my nose.
    i’d wear sensible shoes. i’d fry delicious chicken
    and use a hand masher. my kitchen table would
    pridnear groan when people came to call.
    my recipes would include a handful of this
    and a pinch of that. i’d turn the tv loud.
    in 200 years they won’t remember me.
    but just between us, who will, or won’t,
    bear witness for the dead? i can only
    bear witness for my own.

    first draft 04/14/2014

  289. barbara_y

    If I Were the Sun

    The man who thought he was a cat
    convinced the sun
    that his place was in its lap.

    While he slept
    time slept, too.

    Love may not be easy to achieve;
    love isn’t easy;
    not even for the sun.

    When love falls asleep on you
    you hold still
    for that which makes you sweat.

    You hold still
    and count the breaths
    of love curled against you.

    If I were the sun
    would you sleep
    in my lap?

  290. cindikenn

    If I Were an Onion

    If I could be an onion
    I’d choose a tasty fun one.
    Young, sleek and bulb free,
    Small headed, funny,
    The lean, green, long leafed scallion.

    Newly born from earthly bed,
    Hairy roots and unformed head,
    I’d dance on behalf
    Of your happy laugh
    Til I was cut and shredded.

  291. Snowqueen

    If I Were A Bee

    If I were a bee
    Not many would like me

    I’d gather pollen and make honey
    If I sting it’s not very funny

    I’d have two antennae and super big eyes
    I’d buzz a lot and I could fly

    Karen D.

  292. Gwyvian

    If I were a weeping willow

    If I were a weeping willow, my leaves would rustle
    with quiet mirth, I would be the one standing in
    the garden of my home, majestic and with a little swing—
    I would still guard innocent dreams, and the house
    would still stand; if I were that weeping willow,
    I would weep when my human form cannot, expressed
    in physical thought with leaves brushing a ground
    cold and sheltering at once – but, perhaps, I would also
    have a pond I could touch upon and shade,
    but at the very least, I would remain constant,
    as, in truth, no other thing in this world truly has been—
    I would spread a fine web of green across the sky,
    so that when little ones rest their heads against me,
    I would be the sheltering arms and a curtain of magic—
    if I were that weeping willow, I would not grieve for me,
    but sometimes I would weep when that is what I need.

    April 14, 2014

    By: Lucy K. Melocco

  293. Mark Danowsky

    If I were a Killer

    How would I go on living
    with myself? you want to know.
    I expect I’d be in prison.
    If not literally, then
    of course, the mental kind
    they talk about.
    There are medical reasons.
    Scientific reasons.
    Labels non-killers
    and killers make up
    because we all want to pretend
    it’s difficult to kill.
    It’s not. You do not have to
    be a hitman. Or crazy.
    But we already knew that.
    You can be rough or pleasant
    on the outside. You can
    be a cold-blooded bastard.
    You can stalk the night.
    You can stalk by day.
    You can stalk virtually.
    But like death
    today, we are distanced
    from the killing act.
    So distanced, we believe
    what fiction tells us—
    that it’s hard to kill a person
    when it’s not.
    We are fragile.
    All people are fragile
    at their core.
    We need to stop telling people
    it’s hard to kill—
    that it takes
    10 gunshots
    or 20 arrows
    or a car bomb
    or that a hero can survive
    all kinds of attacks
    using evasive maneuvers
    and finish a battle unscathed—
    when all it might take
    is a small push
    and an unlucky fall.

  294. lionetravail

    “If It Were Up To Me”
    by David M. Hoenig

    If it were up to me I’d find
    a way to pass a law which fined
    all those who called a thing a thing
    which it was not, and neither king
    nor common folk would ever mind.

    If “smart” phones were a smarter kind,
    I’d be that much more inclined
    to think them more than obsess-bling;
    at least that’s what I think I’d find.

    I’d look for ways to wake mankind
    from blithely lemming-marching, blind
    to how we’ve changed socializing
    to unheartfelt accomp’nying
    with even “friend” new-redefined:
    but that’s not up to me to find.

  295. uneven steven

    if I were to see the future waving at me
    from down a crowded sidewalk
    would I too casually ignore it
    like confronting an annoying acquaintance
    its right hand raised and scuttling and calling
    my name as it wends its way through traffic
    aiming straight at me
    would I feel hemmed in by my duties
    not to trample my neighbors
    remember the rules of polite society
    and decline to run away screaming
    but instead turn to face it
    face to my pimply faced high school past
    too eager to please
    the one the teachers always called on
    as their ace in the hole example
    old enough now to finally recognize
    my old nemesis expectations
    and the future
    I am leading
    right now

  296. Walt Wojtanik


    If I were me,
    I’d be happy in my station
    this close to publication I could taste it,
    I wouldn’t waste it… the opportunity that is!
    Just the way it is…if I were me.

    If I were me,
    I’d be less afraid to sing my songs,
    you could all hum along if you don’t know
    the words. You know how it goes, you’ve heard
    it before. We’d do an encore… if I were me.

    If I were me,
    I’d be the man Mom and Dad had hoped,
    I would have coped better with illness and death,
    I’d save my breath as far as some people were concerned.
    And I’d have learned… if I were me.

    If I were me,
    my poems would be recited,
    I’d still love unrequited and hide it well,
    and I’d tell my daughters, they ought to be happy
    and steer clear of crappy situations… If I were me,

    I’d feel blessed by the friends I’ve made,
    have a poet parade and invite the masses,
    we’d hold classes on form and encouragement
    and take nourishment from our collective muse,
    That’s what I’d choose, if I were me!

  297. Margot Suydam

    If I were flying

    Would someone I know be there to catch me if I fell?
    What are the chances the wind would take me?

    What do people look like when viewed from the sky?
    Would you wave or scream as I floated farther away?

    Are clouds places where the weary can find rest?
    Could I ever find a way out of such blinding gray?

    Is it shocking that humans can touch skyscrapers?
    I would not have answers unless I attempted to fly.

  298. Blaise


    If I were a real poet
    mystic muse-fueled beauty
    would rain down to float me
    through deep nights of grammar and meter
    and finding right words
    to a magic land
    of heart pounding metaphor
    where readers and journals
    and café loungers all
    would smile or nod or moisten an eye
    and clamor to carry me home
    a me now officially real

  299. AleathiaD

    Deep, warm birthday wishes for you today. I ate a piece of cake for breakfast in honor of your special day. AD

    If I Were a Child Again

    If I were a child again
    I would remember to act my age,
    to not grow up so fast,
    to enjoy the youthful innocence
    a little longer.

    I wouldn’t have raised
    your son for you or learned
    to cook dinner at 8 years old
    or lingered so long
    alone with my fears.
    I would have spent more time
    laughing and making friends
    and valuing what a good one
    brings to the heart.

    I would have taken life
    less seriously,
    felt less old
    in my soul,
    less inclined to carry
    all your burdens
    without being asked to.
    If I were a child again
    I wouldn’t have waited
    so long for you to be proud of me,
    to tell me I’m special
    instead of a bastardized
    Queen of Sheba.

    I wouldn’t have cared as much
    about the life you were living
    or the life you were giving me.
    What child worries about that anyway?
    I would have learned sooner
    that my life isn’t handed down
    by you, but created from my own
    experience and fortitude.

    I would have learned
    to open my heart a little wider
    a bit sooner
    and I would have taken
    everything you’d ever said
    with grains of salt instead of gospel.
    Here I am,
    an older woman,
    clicking my ruby slippered heels:
    If I were a child again
    If I were a child again
    If I were a cold again

    Aleathia Drehmer 2014
    April 14 If I Were

    1. julie e.

      Beautiful. And I so relate to the thought:
      “I would have learned
      to open my heart a little wider
      a bit sooner
      and I would have taken
      everything you’d ever said
      with grains of salt instead of gospel.”

      I love the ending.

  300. lsteadly

    Happy Birthday, Jericho!

    If I were a sage
    I’d set words to the page
    Condemning the horrors
    We commit in this age

    My speech would be sure
    To encourage a cure
    That unravels those crimes
    Forsaking the pure

    My hand would hold fast
    All the promises cast
    To the decent and meek
    So that honor may last

    Yet I am no sage
    Just a woman who’d wage
    She has not the power
    To rid this world of its rage

  301. skanet

    As if
    You are not the only thing I see at night
    Long-limbed and succulent
    Languid and speechless like an underground prince

    You find me
    out of my element and alone from too much tinkering
    Separated from myself
    Like a mother from her accidental baby
    Willingly, but unwillingly

    It when the night comes
    Stranger in heart
    He, she, screams without opening its mouth
    Threatening to pounce continuously, so
    I never can look away,
    Do something else

    As if
    You are the only thing
    You bring your light where it does not belong
    It ruptures my rapture
    Invades my soliloquy
    You act as
    If I were not alone

  302. break_of_day

    “If I were a Rocketship”

    If I were a rocketship
    I would spend my summers on Mars
    lapping up life experience
    for my seven-book science fiction series

    I would weather each winter on Mercury
    and slip away each spring to Saturn,
    making merry among the men
    who live within the planet’s gassy surface

    I would one day work up the nerve
    to fly to fair Andromeda,
    a team of travelers in my belly
    made up of Martians and Saturnites and Earthmen

    We would seek the distant stars,
    daring to pierce the depths of dark matter,
    to witness the wonder of the birth and death of celestial spheres
    until finally, meeting our mission’s end, we are
    swallowed up in a supernova’s spectacular light

  303. Benjamin Thomas

    If I were miscellaneous

    If I were a urinal,
    I’d be pissed.

    But if I were a pair of lips,
    would I be kissed?

    If I were a fleeting thought
    would I be missed?

    If I were a sightly mug
    could I be gripped?

    But if I were steaming coffee
    I’d better be sipped!

  304. Mama Zen

    If I Were To Meet You

    I’m charm
    decaying to strange.
    Got a smoking French accent
    and a seven string guitar.

    You’re a darkling.
    A whirligig with sheathed wings.
    If I were to meet you,
    I’d meet you where you are.

    Kelli Simpson

  305. lina

    if i were

    if i were god
    i’d make it all new
    for you.
    i’d plant the window boxes,
    hang laundry in the wind,
    bring wildflowers
    back from the road,
    lay the tablecloth
    on the porch with candles,
    call for the cat
    in the yard,
    watch the girl on the roof
    wave sparklers
    at the boys
    never cut down a tree.

  306. JanetRuth

    If I Were You…

    If I were you, then I would be
    That person in my life with me
    And I would need to see and hear
    The ‘me’ I am to you, my dear

    If I were you I’d come to know
    The person from the outside so
    I wonder if I’d be okay
    To hear only the things I say

    If I were you right next to me
    Would I enjoy my company?
    Or would I find a quick excuse
    To rush away…an age-old ruse

    If I were you would I call me
    To share life over cakes and tea?
    Or would I grumble inwardly
    To spend an afternoon with me?

    I think I’d learn a thing or two
    If for one day I would be you
    I wonder what my thoughts would be
    If I were you instead of me

    © Janet Martin

    1. TomNeal

      Your lines are always musical, and a pleasure to read.

      The rhymes in the first stanza be/me/hear/dear speak to the element of yearning for understanding within a relationship. This understanding is elusive. In tone, your lines remind me of Browning’s Two In The Campagna, and especially the stanza that ends: Then the good minute goes.

  307. grcran

    If I were a poet
    By gpr crane

    If I were a carpenter, I wouldn’t be Jesus. I wouldn’t be me.
    I’d be a fisherman.
    If I were a fisherman, I wouldn’t be Washington. I wouldn’t be wise.
    I’d be a farmer.
    If I were a farmer, I wouldn’t be Shakespeare. I wouldn’t be playing.
    I’d be a poet.
    If I were a poet, I wouldn’t be anyone. I wouldn’t be thinking.
    I’d be all done.

  308. PressOn


    I’d look at me
    and wonder why I didn’t see
    the glint of tear
    I have whenever you are near,
    and wonder why
    those tears flow when you pass me by.
    But no, you go
    about your ways and never know
    the harm you do.
    That’s how it is, for you are you.

    1. TomNeal

      I like this a lot, and admire your craftsmanship. The alternating lines lend extra force to the tension and separateness expressed in the words.

  309. Kimmy Sophia

    If I were still
    answers could surface,
    worries could dissipate,
    judgements could evaporate,
    direction could clarify.
    Light would get in,
    energy would charge,
    noise would quiet,
    monsters would shrink,
    enemies become friends.
    I would have mercy on others
    and mercy on me.

  310. TomNeal

    If I were a box
    (an experiment)

    I’d be a useful rectangular box,
    A4 sized; reasonable dimensions,
    Neither shallow, nor too deep, but able
    To hold either receipts or erudite
    Papers- but never both at once. I’d not
    Be promiscuous. No, I’d be plastic,
    Durable, waterproof, built to outlast
    Enduring things: ideas, poetry, art,
    Music, and tax records. And when retired,
    I’d join other boxes at the local [no, not a pub]
    Landfill, and remember my days past
    Into forever- the fifth dimension.
    Then no longer humbled by menial
    Duties, and long after you’ve disappeared,
    Your tired old body turned back into dust,
    I’d erase every trace of your being,
    But for me. No longer undervalued,
    Your only legacy, I’d . . .
    Suppose it’s best that I am not a box.

  311. Roderick Bates

    If I Were Smarter

    by Roderick Bates

    If I were smarter,
    I wouldn’t need to be so tall.
    And if I had sharper teeth,
    I’d never have to speak at all.

  312. Benjamin Thomas

    If I were a car

    If I were a car
    I’d drive myself

    Head for the hills
    on cruise
    lean back lazy

    Hug every curve
    slip into the valley

    But I’m much to slow
    for life in the fast lane
    let alone an alley

  313. Gwyvian

    If I were a wisp

    If I were a wisp, I’d be dancing in a forest,
    shimmering from patch of sun to shade to moonshine,
    and whispering the secrets webbed in the foliage,
    the true essence drawn by the shoots on the forest floor—
    I’d be wrapped in silken moss when the world needs me not,
    and when humankind wanders too near, I’d lead them deeper
    to the waterfall, where the fae dance sometimes, and
    see if they are easily swayed – from those, we only take a day,
    but it might be more, I don’t know; if they are resilient
    and beautiful in soul, we would ravish them, drink deep, and
    they would transform to become one with us,
    the fae-kind and fae-made, and I would rejoice for not being
    alone anymore: they would make them just like me,
    a wisp that dances from tree to tree…
    …so if I was a wisp, I’d make sure you join me.

    April 14, 2014

    By: Lucy K. Melocco

  314. A.A. Palmer (a.k.a. The Happy Amateur)

    Happy Birthday Jericho and Happy Monday all. Fourteen prompts, fourteen haiku.

    beyond the welkin
    a sleepy angel awakes
    off to work wings brushed

    the commute is quick
    one giant leap for mankind
    for angel one step

    the task is simple
    persuade men to be happy
    that’s what angels do

    since the creation
    happiness has been men’s foe
    men prefer ruin

    men long for passion
    harmony unsettles them
    men would rather burn

    men inhale cities
    drink beneath the rural moon
    on the airplane wings

    ever amateur
    created in God’s image
    hopelessly human

    torment their lovers
    dance themselves to destruction
    ever lonely men

    finding no refuge
    men cry when they see the Pope
    vagabond pilgrims

    empires rise and fall
    look back foresee the future
    humans do not change

    men bend their beliefs
    divide sex and sentiment
    still believe in love

    strolls through central park
    wild quarrels starting over
    beautiful and damned

    men battle their beasts
    walk along the precipice
    all the sad young men

    if i were God i
    dancers and storytellers
    always reasoning

  315. SeekingSoltitude

    If I were to change my past

    They say
    “never look back to the past”
    with betrayal in my heart
    I yearn to change what has passed

    If now I could, I would
    change my days of darkness,
    my nights of crying
    and endless moments of inertness

    The black hole in my heart
    would be gone,
    The mundane trips would disappear
    where I had stood lone

    The grief and tears
    The feeling of death so close,
    would be miles away
    the thorn on my path, would become a rose

    Maybe they’d be happier
    Maybe they’d be awesome
    Maybe I would have made different choices
    Maybe my present would get to say “welcome”

    They, which were once,
    Prohibited territory
    could now be a
    cherished memory

    Yet, I know
    this wishful thinking of mine
    would never change what changed me-
    I let out a sigh


  316. rlmatt7

    If I were to see then now

    The dark winding lane that ends abruptly
    twisting away to break into multiples
    did you ever walk on the bridge closely
    following the noise of your footsteps
    Grey wallpaper with tiny red squiggles
    how it crackled when torn
    It was so hot, it melted D’s brains
    For she was never the same then on
    When I closed the car door, I never heard
    the groan of the memories suffocating in the suitcases
    I gave away most, in my cupboard
    hang new clothes, though there’s still some plates
    but the colours are fading, soon it will be time to replace,
    It’s brain melting hot again, to see I hide behind sunglasses

  317. kelly letky

    if i were robin’s egg blue

    you would be my after nest
    and every song would contain the name
    of forgiveness

    the sky would be my blanket
    and my window
    stars would glitter on my skin
    clouds would whisper white lies

    hope would never
    crack open
    sing for supper
    fall from grace

    and each breeze
    would brush my skin
    with the promise
    of wings

    Kelly Letky