2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 21

Today marks three weeks into the challenge! If you’re still on board, great job! Let’s kick this month’s butt as we move into the single digits for days left in this challenge.

For today’s prompt, we’re dealing with our third “Two for Tuesday” prompt(s):

  1. Write a “what you are” poem, or…
  2. Write a “what you are not” poem.

For instance, you may be a teacher, a student, brave, scared, a person, an animal, a plant, and well, wherever this one takes you. Or not, of course.

*****

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Here’s my attempt at a “What You Are” and/or “What You Are Not” Poem:

“for you”

i am the moment you forget
to re-set the alarm; the thought–

fleeting–of maybe and then yes,
let’s; the two hands that make the mess

& clean it; the eyes that always
make eyes; the mouth that always says

what needs said without making noise;
your man in an ocean of boys.

*****

Today’s guest judge is…

J.P. Dancing Bear

J.P. Dancing Bear

J. P. Dancing Bear

J. P. Dancing Bear is editor for the American Poetry Journal and Dream Horse Press. Bear also hosts the weekly hour-long poetry show, Out of Our Minds, on public station KKUP and available as podcasts.

He is the author of thirteen collections of poetry, his latest book is Love is a Burning Building (FutureCycle Press, 2014), his fourteenth collection, Cephalopodic, will be published by Glass Lyre in 2015. His work has appeared or will shortly in American Literary Review, Crazyhorse, the Cimmaron Review, and elsewhere.

Learn more at Bear’s website.

*****

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Poem Your Heart Out again!

The prompts from last year’s challenge along with the winning poem from each day ended up in an inspired little anthology titled Poem Your Heart Out. It was part prompt book, part poetry anthology, and part workbook, because each day includes a few pages for you to make your own contributions.

Anyway, the anthology worked out so well that we’re doing it again this year, and you can take advantage of a 20% discount from Words Dance by pre-ordering before May 1, 2015.

Click to continue.

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Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.

*****

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858 thoughts on “2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 21

  1. pomodoro

    i am the lotus flower,
    rooted in mud,
    that rises up
    through the pond
    to reveal itself.
    Afloat on the surface with ease
    I unfold.
    I sit in stillness,
    intimate with the flow of vinyasa,
    breath and energy from subtle sources
    reach deep into the memory of others.
    I surrender to the breath,
    exhale and
    let go.

  2. Walt Wojtanik

    MY OWN MILD-MANNERED MAN

                                                I am me,
                                              a guy who
                                         has always tried
                                             to be every-
                                            body’s every-
                                                     thing.
                                          Marching to every
                                   other  drum  beat,  but  not
                               meeting my/——–\ own expectations.
                          Here’s my epi/     S     \phany; my revelation…
                    this station in life \            /is rife with a need to make
                 the time for me to re\        /ach the heights to which I
                     aspire. Battered and\   /tired, if I were to expire now,
                         I would go unfulfilled. Of  this  I  am not thrilled. I
                                 have shilled for  bosses and cut my all losses
                                       when needed and have succeeded to some
                                        extend, but always with an eye to try to
                                         impress those best left alone. If my light
                                         has shone on you in any way, I will smile; be
                                          glad. It’s really not that bad. I have too many
                                           fires left un-ironed. I’m just trying to find my
                                           niche and quit bitching about things I cannot
                                           control. I’m    staking my claim and will be tak-
                                           ing the bla-      me. I know in my soul, that I
                                           can’t save        the world. My banner’s
                                           unfurled,           I’m doing      good
                                            “I’ll leap            tall build-
                                            ings for            f o o d!”
                                        Being my              o w n
                                 man I am. The           guy I am
                           supposed                        to be.
                                                                     Me.

    (C) Walter J. Wojtanik, 2015

  3. Beverly Deirocini

    “Reminder to Self”

    I am
    Loyal
    Modest
    Generous
    Dependable
    Hard-working
    Compassionate
    Fearless in danger
    Helpful to the hurt
    Carrier of burdens
    Affectionate to all
    Kind to strangers
    Loving to others
    Straightforward
    Self-confident
    Sympathetic
    Passionate
    Persistent
    Intuitive
    Loving
    Polite
    Quiet
    Neat
    Me.

    -Beverly Deirocini

  4. Fabelhaft

    No harm

    Don’t look at me with
    eyes paranoid,
    I’m just a common man
    with a life,
    Don’t judge me on my
    religion, color, caste,
    I thought it was in
    the past,
    Don’t assume I steal
    or kill,
    I’m just a common man
    with a life,
    I too work and strive to
    earn,
    yes, that is my pay,
    not bribes or gunpoint
    flames,
    i’m just a common man
    with a life,
    Don’t put me in a group
    just because you can,
    It hurts, It does,
    Please, treat me like a man,
    I’m just a common man
    with a life,
    Suspicious checks,
    stares and glares,
    I didn’t know when I
    was small,
    what this was all about,
    Does really my god or my beliefs,
    Or my logic or my griefs,
    Make me susceptible to your
    cold heart,
    I’m just a common man
    with a life,
    Till my thoughts
    don’t hurt you,
    Don’t make me your
    enemy,
    My gender, My lifestyle,
    My language, My job,
    Its made to be something
    vile,
    I’m just a common man
    with a life,
    Please, please, stop,
    I just wish to live,
    I promise I do
    No harm.
    Just a common man.

    Katyayni Ganesan

  5. josephdaniel

    The Reason

    You’re the reason
    I breathe a little lighter
    Sigh a little softer
    Smile a little broader
    Work a little harder
    Sing a little stronger
    Laugh until I cry
    You’re the reason
    I can fly

  6. Kimmy Sophia

    Antenna Gut

    I pick up feelings
    like a TV signal.
    They permeate the place
    like barbecue smoke and closed windows.
    Go into my gut and settle
    like concealed ecoli
    in a take-out curry dinner.
    Sometimes the shakes,
    sometimes nausea.
    There’s a news guy who shows up
    with a bow tie
    and a voice like Walter Winchell
    pelting questions,
    digging for dirt,
    spreading rumors,
    telling lies,
    letting in the throng.
    The copper plates of justice swing
    in my cranial hemispheres.
    “Oh they have a point,” and
    “So do they.”
    The tirade rattles and cajoles
    like a cloud of crows roosting,
    a din,
    like tinnitus,
    nowhere to go.
    (Kimmy Sophia Brown)

  7. Marie Elena

    I am Marie Elena Good

    I am girl, but not female,
    And I am male.

    Named, but not identified –
    Ordained, yet never appointed.

    I am genial and moral,
    Yet not kind,
    Nor principled.

    I am religion without faith, creed, or conviction.
    I am angel,
    I am demon.

    I am armed and eager,
    Though not prepared,
    Nor enthusiastic.

    I mingle, but never socialize –
    Merge,
    But don’t mix.

    I long without ache.
    I have no desires.

    I glean and garner,
    But can’t gather.
    I am never student,
    But
    I am learner.

    An ode with no rhyme,
    I am a dirge.
    But I am no sad song.

    I am not myself –
    I
    Am
    Me.

    Marie Elena Good

    *This piece was written based on the letters of my name.

  8. De Jackson

    Burn Before Eating

    (This is just to say)
             I am nom de plum
    (from the icebox;
    delicious
    so sweet and so cold).

    I am Henry
    the Eighth
    Wonder of the World
    Trade Center
    of the Universe.

    I am the pencil
    shavings
    which
    you were probably
    saving
    for breakfast.

    I am the eggplant.

    You are the walrus.

               (Shhh.
    Forgive me.)

    Goo-goo-g’
            joob.

    .

  9. mohinipuranik

    Intuition
    i am your intuition,
    i tell you ‘yes’ or ‘no’
    to take the right decision
    when you get confused

    i tell you ‘stop’
    when you are
    about to lose the control

    i tell you ‘go ahead’
    when you shy away
    from doing what’s needed
    ‘just go ahead!’

    i am your intuition
    you can’t hear me
    if you decide to ignore my voice

    i am always with you
    if you want to listen to me
    i am your best friend, your soul

    i am not a miracle
    i am just your inner voice
    i am with you, within you
    can you hear me?

    – © Mohini Puranik

  10. Fabelhaft

    Sorry, I’m not perfect

    I don’t fit in the description
    you claim proper,
    I am not a big fan of
    your princess and pauper,
    It doesn’t matter what gender
    I belong to,
    It won’t change my thoughts
    about you,
    I don’t hate, I don’t dislike,
    Its just your attitude
    I merely not like,
    I did put my hand forward,
    maybe you’d be my friend,
    You laughed at my sneakers
    It started at this end,
    If I choose to not speak,
    It isn’t because I fear,
    Its because my brain makes
    sure I don’t give a care,
    Yes, I didn’t fit
    from the very first day,
    But,
    its better that way.

    Katyayni Ganesan

    a bit childish, but, yes.

  11. Hannah

    PAD Day 21- a “What You Are” and/or “What You Are Not” Poem

    With a grateful nod to The Three Musketeers for my title. 🙂

    All for One and One for All

    I am the privileged and underprivileged son – the full of hope and barely floating daughter. I am cold and hungry and opposing warm and fed. I am eye of dead and barely living – tongue of youth spelling new glories. I am breath resting and rising – litter and palm that removes refuse – hand that ties shoe of a little girl at the bus stop – ear to hear her stories – I am that little girl. I am addict and I am healed. I’m cloudy dark as death day and rainbow rafters – ceiling blue plied sky. I am dog left to rain and I’m one smothered with affection. I am equal and opposite – reaction and action. I am black side and white – fight and salve and I am resolved to identify with all – to recognize that separating stipulations could be uniting. If willing – look to see – I am that – I am that – we are one – we are one – if one can trust…

    I am flesh, blood and bone
    I’m dreams, wishes, words spoken
    broken and whole – Love.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2015

    1. Marie Elena

      Oh, my sweet friend … this is sooooooo YOU! I remember once that Daniel Pai said he didn’t think you had an ugly word in your dictionary. Such truth to his observation, and one that has proven itself all these years. I love you, Sweet Hannah!

  12. Suzie

    Domesticated

    I am a wife, a mom, a friend
    Yes, all of that is true
    But did you know I’m also me
    Not here to just love you?

    I have my own desires, dreams
    Pushed down, absorbed in me
    Subdued, restrained, faded away
    So long they will never be free.

  13. rachii

    SAINT

    We are all sinners
    None perfectly pure
    But shame on you sinners
    Who sin and judge even more
    I realised I am not a saint.
    I am not perfect
    Who is ?
    Who is “worth it”?
    Judge me and sin your sins
    I sin and not judge …yet neither of us really wins
    -Rahel Hadish

  14. Thedeb

    I am ever

    Salt-licked ocean breezes

    Palm trees dancing
    in sunbeams

    Diamond raindrops
    on green leaves

    Pale sand
    at waters edge

    Coral rock
    houses of the Holy

    I am ever

  15. summersetsun

    What Am I

    Relaxed
    Minimalistic
    Unconsciously bifurcated
    Philosophically compelled
    Adventurous

    What Am I Not

    Trendy
    Materialistic
    A great lover of the shallow
    A lover of duplicity
    Unhappy

  16. Maeflower

    Who am I?

    Who am-
    An open inquisitive air of sound bleeding the words into one,
    as my mouth softly releases
    ‘am’
    the ‘who’
    still drifts in the foreground,

    but the gravity of ‘I’
    falls from the back of my throat,
    coming from some imperceptible place
    deep within me,
    the word materializing as it hits the air
    grounding the lightness of my imagination.

    I want a tangible definition,
    concrete and unwavering,
    but

    we are filled with a brimming fluidity
    of character and consciousness
    so that our sense of self should stream
    from within us,
    forever in flux.

  17. Minibusy

    Lazy

    I know that I am lazy
    I’ve been so all my days.
    I wear the crown in comfort
    I’m too old to change my ways.

    I’m so lazy it’s amazing!
    Here’s how high my “lazy” ranks.
    I’ll write the beginning,
    but let you fill in the _ _ _ _ _ _!

    It will save me so much effort.
    Not to mention use of ink.
    I’ll save a bunch of rhyming lines
    and never have to _ _ _ _ _!

    I’m in need of your assistance,
    why not all give it a whirl?
    Thus this oyster of a great idea
    just might produce a _ _ _ _ _.

    Sharon Anderson

  18. Ravyne

    The Bitter Truth
    (Senryu/Haiku series)

    I am…

    a rollercoaster
    careening out of control
    jumping the worn tracks

    a steamship cruising
    near iceberg-laden waters
    no hope, Titanic

    a well-beaten wound
    festering beneath the skin
    no time for healing

    I am not…

    a respected robin
    hunting breakfast for its chicks
    renewal of life

    an adored penguin
    seeking forever her mate
    faithful until death

    a treasured garden
    harvested with tender care
    nourishing the heart

    ~Lori Carlson~

  19. annell

    I Am an Artist

    and you say      how do you know      I show myself by my actions

    it has been a lifetime      i have pursued this career      i go to the studio everyday

    in the studio i go to work      i am a painter      i paint

    at the end of the day      my station is left in order      no time is wasted in preparation

    my brushes are ready      in the morning      i may spend time at the computer writing

    then i paint      at lunch time i take a break      the sun is high in the sky

    then back to the studio      to paint      my life is spent thinking about color

    looking at color      analyzing color      speaking to color

    i cup my hand to my ear      i listen      i try to hear what color tells me

    i ask the question      what if      color answers      do not be afraid      use me

    i show you my work      i lay all that i am before you      the work comes from my heart

    it is honest      i hope to speak to your heart      & you will hear me

    i await your answer…

    April 21, 2015

  20. josephdaniel

    Rock Star

    I’m not a rock star
    No, far from it
    No glory in what I do
    Some people push paper
    Some just the envelope
    I push my luck
    more often than I should
    No crowd cheering me
    on day-to-day
    No one yelling ‘Encore’
    No one saying
    ‘whatever happened to…?’
    I’m happy just to be born

  21. Doakley

    What you feel you’re not, is exactly what you are!

    My dear, as I gazed into your eyes, your upturned face so fair,
    I told you, you were pretty, and twined my fingers in your hair.
    “I am not” you said to me,
    my reflection in the mirror, shows me what you see.

    My dear, beauty is not seen, by looking with your eyes,
    after fakes and makeup, have covered you with lies.
    You’re not my pretty lady, due to something from a bowl,
    I see you with my loving heart and judge you from my soul!

  22. Sarah Metzler

    Who Am I

    How can it be
    When all that exists
    Is a flutist playing
    The world into existence
    That I am neither the flutist
    Nor the flute, nor the tune
    Not even the breath that blows
    Through them all

    _Sarah Metzler

      1. Sarah Metzler

        Well, that was supposed to be implied. But on second reading, I can see how it can be read differently than I originally intended. So, here is the first revision:

        Who Am I

        How can it be
        When all that exists
        Is a flutist playing
        The world into existence
        That I am neither the flutist
        Nor the flute, nor the tune
        Not even the breath that blows
        Through them all
        Yet, I am

        _Sarah Metzler

  23. josephdaniel

    An Odd Duck

    I’m artistic;
    some would say crafty.

    I cast a tall shadow
    on a sunny day;
    some call me shady.

    Some say I’m cheap;
    I’m dirt cheap.

    Some say I’m funny,
    but not ‘ha-ha’.

    I know people call me
    all kinds of names;
    I’m not stupid.

  24. ReathaThomasOakley

    The family reunion photo

    We lined up in raggedy rows
    a few sitting holding grand or
    perhaps great-grand children
    because Eva Carter met that outsider
    Luke, or maybe Louis records vary,
    Thomas down from South Carolina
    collecting naval stores back before
    the century changed out in Carterville.

    I stand apart from my girl cousins
    from my last aunt, where are all the men,
    I am not them, I am more my mother’s
    daughter, I look again at cousin Joyce
    see myself in her eyes, her hair, though
    hers is white mine still dark. There is Gwen,
    now a widow and great grand mother,
    she got started years before
    I thought of husband or babies,
    she is ample breasted short.
    Photos don’t lie,
    Gwen and I,
    we could be sisters.

    I see Eva Jo, named for our granny,
    so much her mother’s daughter
    bustling organizing
    keeping the children occupied
    barking orders, chicken here deviled eggs there,
    cakes and pies on that table,
    let’s all line up against
    this wall, we want pictures
    to remember
    the Carter Family Reunion.
    Photos don’t lie
    Eva Jo and I,
    we could be twins.

    I see bits and pieces of myself
    in the faces in the bodies
    in that photograph.
    Though I deny it
    photos don’t lie,
    a Carter Thomas woman
    is who I am.

  25. barbara_y

    I am not
    a church bell in Philadelphia
    the Mississippi turned, flowing backward in its bed
    without honor, your worst nightmare, or alone in this
    a heap of muscle shells, like a small house
    each shell punched to lace
    to make button blanks; or
    a card of pearl shirt buttons

    I am not
    the imposter
    I am not
    a Little Golden Book
    I am not
    what you look for in a new car

    I am not in chains
    I am not a John Donne sonnet
    just the way you look to night
    the sunshine of your love

    I am not the Statue of Liberty
    a duck with yellow eyes
    a four-foot mound of hardy, airy Maiden Grass
    the book in the tote, or the beach, or the chaise
    sunglasses with white frames that show off your tan
    the smell of coconut, the swimsuit tied at the back of the neck
    Revlon red polish on pink toes, mastered for iTunes, fully declined
    left alone, burning, smoke rising straight up, undisturbed,
    the chrome-wrapped kitchen table
    the red formica top, white with yellow egg smear, a corner of toast.

    1. Hannah

      I LOVE this…especially the very ending…strikes me funny that toast is what I first thought of when I thought about what I’m not…it didn’t end up in my poem though. Excellent, B!!

  26. Kjean

    I am routine obsessed,
    a dog buff,
    a book freak,
    football fan.
    I am happiest when creating,
    enthusiastic about Frost and Bradbury,
    admirer of Hillenbrand and Horowitz,
    and wish I were a word wizard
    penning ideas across the page
    like glazed frosting over a fresh, hot
    roll
    or
    like waves gently scraping away sand,
    with every ebb and flow,
    leaving just enough
    to imagine
    the world
    in a different way.

  27. Walt Wojtanik

    WHAT AM I?

    People ask me who I think I am.
    And finding that answer causes me to pause.
    In simple terms I’m just a lowly man,
    who earned his humility at an early age.
    So as this stage of life nears to a close,
    I need to find myself as best I can.

    I am a son. Named in a succession of Walters, I can
    see many traits of those who went before me. I am
    the one who learned at his father’s knee, always close
    beside him, to assist him in his noblest cause,
    and since the day his chapter had been sealed, his page
    remains to remind me of this loving man.

    I am a brother. The kind of man
    who despite six siblings of his own, can
    see a sister or brother in everyone. I’m at an age
    that says the window is closing, and I am
    supposing I need all the backing I can get because
    those opportunities will soon come to a close.

    I am a friend. A guy who at the close
    of day hopes someone would say, “There goes a good man!”
    I find it hard to judge myself, so I depend on friends because
    they accept me as I am presented. I can
    all ways rely on their kindness and trust, a must since I am
    indebted to them as my compass and my gauge.

    I am a family man who has come to perform on this stage
    sacrificing all I could, yet still able to retain my true self. In close
    proximity to the example my father had set, I am
    merely a facsimile of that man.
    A wife and two daughters who ground me, how can
    I not be that guy. Ask me why and I’ll answer, “Just because!”

    I am a poet. A man of my words who sees the beauty in everything because
    inspiration rests there. It is like answering the question of the ages,
    “Why do you write Mt. Everest?” Because it’s there! I can
    hope to capture the perception of a single thought, getting as close
    as I can without clouding the view. Poetic brothers and sisters make this mister a new man
    who has learned from their worded wisdom to be all that I am.

    I pause to ponder who or what I am,
    and my curiosity shows me that at any age, I am a man
    who comes as close as I can to be who I am expected to be.

    (C) Walter J. Wojtanik, 2015

  28. kelly letky

    an abundance of endings

    .

    i am bent but never broken

    hollow but never empty

    spent but never lacking

    .

    my song is a march

    and my step is a rhyme

    my heart is a lark

    and my hands are sublime

    .

    pain curls inside my pocket

    a worry stone of wait

    busy fingers

    burnished hope

    polished imperfection

    .

    i am magic without chant

    gypsy without wandering

    woman without definition

    .

    i am bent but never broken

    hollow but never empty

    spent but never lacking

    .

    -Kelly Letky

  29. Undrtakr

    I am (Not The Great)

    I am a great-grandson
    a grandson
    a son
    I am a grownup
    a teenager
    a child
    I am a husband
    a father
    a friend
    I am a caregiver
    a partner
    a lover
    I am all of these
    I am less than these
    I am more than these
    I am

  30. G.Wood

    My Dog

    My dog
    is a dog,
    she said.
    And I knew what she meant.
    She meant her dog
    spent the cold months
    in the yard
    huddled in a dog house,
    shivering.
    Her dog never ever
    sprinkled dog hair
    like confetti throughout the den
    or ran on the hardwoods leaving
    scratch tracks
    where she rounded the corner
    at top speed.
    Her dog probably never
    broke her boredom
    by defecating on the deck
    or peeing on her own bed
    just for spite.
    No, no,
    her dog
    was a dog.
    A dog that never snoozed by the fire
    in the warmest spot on a snow day
    or made her way into the laundry room
    to hide out during a thunderstorm.
    Her dog never ate Angus roast,
    or chicken pot pie,
    or leftover honey-dripping ham.
    Her dog
    was a dog.
    A dog that never thought
    to scratch at the door
    in the hopes someone would open it.
    Yes, her dog
    was a dog.
    And my dog,
    well,
    she is definitely not
    a dog.

    1. Ravyne

      Wow! This leaves me speechless… my exhusband felt that way about dogs and now I must witness a neighbor across the alley from me treating its dog as just a dog… I so wish I could pin this poem on her door!

  31. Jaye Words

    I Am

    I am a planter of fruits and vegetables.
    I long for spring, and to work in the loam,
    Tucking in plants with a gentle hand,
    Knowing this is where I plant my poem.

    I Am Not

    I am not a grower, I am a planter.
    I gently scatter seeds at sowing.
    I tuck plants in and tend them well.
    God, the Master Gardener, does the growing.

  32. Connie Peters

    You are…

    You are my
    sun
    moon
    stars
    world.

    You are my
    beauty
    brilliance
    creativity
    inspiration.

    You are my
    hope
    song
    joy
    all in all.

    You are my
    strength
    reason
    challenge
    encouragement.

    You are my
    light
    life
    goodness
    eternity.

  33. Pedro Poitevin

    Pedro = Piedra = Stone

    Stone is the language of silence and time.
    Time is the punishment done for a crime.
    Crime is an arrow that punctures a heart.
    Heart is the ocean that opens apart.
    Part is a hole that’s removed from the whole.
    Whole is the wisdom that staggers the soul.
    Soul is the spirit I drink when alone.
    Lone is the surface of rippleless stone.

  34. Thedeb

    Sent from my iPhone

    Begin forwarded message:

    From: Deborah Cerrito
    Date: April 21, 2015 at 7:18:48 AM EDT
    To: Deborah Cerrito
    Subject: Poem

    I am ever

    Salt-licked ocean breezes

    Palm trees dancing
    in sunbeams

    Diamond raindrops
    on green leaves

    Pale sand
    at waters edge

    Coral rock
    houses of the Holy

    I am ever

  35. PressOn

    ALL THE THINGS YOU ARE

    You are leafing trees and the springtime birds;
    you are love multiplied by two and hate chopped into thirds;
    you are the culmination of all my poor words;

    you are the promises of Mondays;
    you are the possibilities of one days;
    you are the hopes and dreams of all my somedays.

    When it comes to you, Hammerstein has nothing on me.

    William Preston

  36. Maggie

    Retirement
    is not all as touted,
    is time for a better busy,
    is bucket-list heavy,
    is fulfilling that wish,
    is being there for someone,
    is relaxing, is relaxing, is relaxing,
    is a task needs doing now,
    is nonstop Saturday mornings,
    is doctor visits, hospital stays,
    is stressless, is serene,
    is wondering when to quit,
    is following that whim,
    is listening to your body,
    is not so clearcut
    is a gift once you arrive,
    if you can get there,
    retirement is.

    Maggie i.f.w.

  37. Pepe Batbon

    AM and AIN’T , TRUTH or TAINT

    self proclaimed half wit father said nit
    damned if I do and damned if I don’t
    know when to start but not when to quit
    think what I will when I know I won’t
    some folks this and some folks that
    belly rolls, ribs sticking out, skinny and fat
    remembering Mr. and Mrs. Jack Sprat
    hound dogs barking at the curious cat
    what I was one time what I will come to be
    not important in the general scheme of things
    thanks Emily Dickinson for understanding we
    pork, beans, cabbages for queens and kings
    rolling out now in a rhyming wheel chair
    not a single drop of dye taints my white hair

    ( this is another one of my seven minute sonnets )

  38. ReathaThomasOakley

    Robert, every day I read your poem, think how good it is, think I’ll come back to comment, then forget. But, today I will say, how very, very good! And, thank you for the amazing judges. I am so glad I found this wonderful, supportive, inspiring place.

  39. PeanuttyO

    I Am

    I am not early
    I am not late
    Neither here nor there
    I am present
    in every moment

    I am not perfect
    I am not broken
    I am a person
    I deserve respect

    I am not happy
    I am not sad
    I am every emotion
    I am not ashamed
    that I feel

    I am not pretty
    I am not ugly
    I am beautiful
    I am me

    Are you?

    (c) http://www.peanutsnuts.com

  40. Divya Sachdeva

    I am not human

    I am not human
    as I rip anyone apart
    who has wrongly placed their car
    or a queue that takes 7 hourglass of time
    honking till the eardrums spin out of its crater.
    I compete for everything that can be named
    with the jaws of my blood thirsty ego
    I greed over numbers ,colors and dresses
    nail paints, your house , your job
    but not my wife my mother , my sister, my lover
    or anybody else.
    For it needs a nib of patience to collage
    others views in a group art
    where everything is not perfect but synchronized .

    I am not human as I believe in murders
    ‘rapes, molestation, sodomizing
    , robbing others ,their smiles ,goodness ,honesty
    and all that makes them human
    until everyone is perfect like me.

    – Divya Sachdeva

  41. TheBlueGnu

    LOST AND FOUND

    Am I lonely?
    Am I floating on a timeless wave,
    waiting for the crest to break,
    into a fresh, exciting dimension?

    Am I looking?
    Am I seeing a desert through frosted eyes,
    wishing for a new panorama,
    with kaleidoscope hues?

    Am I listening?
    Am I hearing only what I want to hear,
    wanting all the positive passions
    to play a new, but funky tune?

    Am I touching?
    Am I feeling a cold, forgotten corpse,
    hoping to find some warmth
    with arms to hold be tight?

    Am I lost?
    Am I standing at a crossroad,
    thinking of my last direction
    and wishing for a free path?

    May my signpost be well lit
    May my road be straight
    May I find a stranger
    May he turn out to be my friend.

    by Kim Watermeyer

  42. Kyusu

    Letting go

    Lately I find
    what I am
    gradually becoming
    what I used to be
    shed like skin.

    Wiping away
    a thin layer of dust
    this imperceptible
    but constant drift
    of change.

    Moving the faded
    photograph of someone
    who still exists
    but can’t so easily
    be found these days.

    Stirring sugar into tea
    a little sweetness lingers
    day by day letting go
    of one to embrace
    the next.

    Alison Williams

  43. Linda Voit

    I Guess You Know

    I probably should have written you this poem
    before September of ‘89 when you vowed
    to love me until death does us part, pretty much
    no matter what. By now, I guess you know
    I am not a good housekeeper, but I am
    a good friend, that I don’t hang towels
    straight but do like to make meals for others
    and jot their reviews in my cookbooks,
    that I never get through ten minutes
    of tax paperwork without swearing,
    but I’ll happily spend hours finding
    the right word for a poem,
    that I love a great move, like an OK movie
    and will watch a bad movie, but I will never
    understand watching golf,
    that I am both an eager traveler
    and an eager home body, that I love
    meaningful work, but don’t like
    dressing up for it, that I have always known
    I’d be a mom and nothing will be more important,
    that I will always choose wine over beer
    but will eagerly support your home brewing,
    that I will forever appreciate your sense of humor,
    admire how you ask thoughtful questions
    and how you love through consistent, small acts,
    that I will never understand your organizational
    style, possibly because I do not have one,
    that I will often want to read to you in the car,
    and, also, that I will argue with you
    until the cows come home and love you
    even longer.

    Linda Voit

    1. Maggie

      LV, you are the realest of the real, my friend. And my cudos are NOT prejudiced by my adoring who you are…after all, anyone who chooses wine over beer and moves housekeeping down the list of necessaries has it all lined up just right in life…Love this…hugs! <3 mw

  44. uvr

    I am a mushy mess
    putty in your hands
    My spine of steel
    melts like snow
    All it takes
    is a single word
    You know the power
    you have over me
    and you wield it
    shamelessly
    Yet I cannot
    hold it against you
    Each time I tell myself
    I will be unyielding and stern
    But you know
    the magic word
    When you say “Mom”
    I dissolve into a
    gooey puddle of love

    Uma Venkatraman

  45. Alfred Booth

    i am not a clear sky on the cruise ship of your desire. i am every other element for your garden to thrive. keep your fingers nimble in the muddy loam of my tears. keep your gait quick following my lofty pilgrimages. keep your heart beat strong to anchor my place asleep when my dreams wail demons. you are not one of them. my first secret: to be whole. a newborn child to open into your love. the reincarnation of your vision. the second: to see perfection reflected in your eyes. and not the tristesse of my storms. sail with me. windless we will burn together in the sun you imagine so well.

    oceans apart
    [2015.21.4…b]

  46. Jezzie

    ALMOST HUMAN

    I am almost human
    so I well understand
    just what you want
    when you ask
    if I’d like a “treat”
    or if I want a “walk”
    or to go to the “park”
    or “go fetch” a “stick”
    and “give to Mum”
    or have a “tickle-tum”
    or “breakfast” or “dinner”
    and “time” for my “supper”
    or even “go do a pee”.
    Those words all mean
    something to me.

    But I am not human,
    so I don’t understand
    exactly what you mean
    when you shout
    “no!” “off!” “out!”
    “stand!” “down!” “sit!”
    “leave!” “stay!” “wait!”
    “go down!” or “be quiet!”
    “over” “heel” or “come!”
    or worse, “in your room!”
    Those words are not
    in my vocabulary.

    Another Doggy Ditty using my theme “Almost Human” which I hope to be able to use throughout this April PAD. Read more at https://jezabelmyschka.wordpress.com/

  47. Arash

    Wonderful, these errors and momentary corrections are becoming a habit:

    Fourth line from bottom should a “that” added, so, “thinking that maybe I do too?”

    Sixth line from bottom should have an “or” added, so, “To kill time, or to lose yourself?”

  48. Arash

    What Am I?

    by Arash E.

    Look, I’m not a poem.
    And ask me no questions,
    this is not a riddle.
    Does it matter what is?
    Why do you need to know?
    What do you want from me?
    Use me to feel something?
    To learn morals, gain some insights?
    To kill time, to lose yourself?
    Escape feeling lonely,
    thinking maybe I do too?
    Listen, this is
    not a riddle,
    so ask me no questions.

    1. Arash

      Wonderful, these errors and momentary corrections are becoming a habit:

      Fourth line from bottom should have a “that” added, so, “thinking that maybe I do too?”

      Sixth line from bottom should have an “or” added, so, “To kill time, or to lose yourself?”

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