2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 24

If you were to use one word to describe your April this year, what would it be? For me, I’d probably select whirlwind. I always come into the month expecting it to last forever, but it rushes by faster than I can imagine–and I’ve been through a few now. Anyway, play along or not–thought it might be fun to see how everyone’s April is unraveling.

For today’s prompt, write a moment poem. The moment can be a big moment or small moment; it can be a good moment or horrible moment; it can affect thousands or matter to just one person. Some moments happen in crowded rooms; some happen in the most quiet of spaces. Find yours and write a poem.

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Here’s my attempt at a Moment Poem:

“good night, sleep tight”

these whispers in the evening
caught beneath cotton sheets
with something to say & a need

to connect as the crickets chirped
symphonies to fireflies
evaporating into the stars

our dreams & who we loved
what we wanted & who
riled us up the most we

never once worried it would end
or that when it did
we would one day miss it

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Today’s guest judge is…

Matt Rasmussen

Matt Rasmussen

Matt Rasmussen

Matt Rasmussen’s poetry has been published in Gulf Coast, Cimarron Review, H_NGM_N, Water~Stone Review, New York Quarterly, Paper Darts, and at Poets.org.

He’s received awards, grants, and residencies from The Bush Foundation, The McKnight Foundation, The Minnesota State Arts Board, Jerome Foundation, Intermedia Arts, The Anderson Center in Red Wing, MN, and The Corporation of Yaddo. He is a 2014 Pushcart Prize winner, a former Peace Corps Volunteer, and teaches at Gustavus Adolphus College.

His first book of poems, Black Aperture, was a finalist for the National Book Award, won the 2012 Walt Whitman Award, and was published in 2013 by LSU Press.

Learn more at MattRasmussen.net.

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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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982 thoughts on “2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 24

  1. Gwyvian

    A moment of respite

    I wish upon this moment eternity:
    serenity laced with hope—
    though we may never meet regularly,
    at least I know that once it happened—
    once done, the thread is woven,
    and perhaps, one day, I will find it again:
    the hope and peace that this may continue
    that there is a way to trace this sweet taste
    and find its home to claim it at long last…
    where all is not lost for careless moments,
    where mistakes are not paid for in blood—
    where dreams and desires have merit
    and where there is no fear that the vicious
    cycle will never end…

    April 24, 2015

    By: Lucy K. Melocco

  2. Gwyvian

    Just a little cut

    I remember the moment well:
    blood so ominous, thick with my doubt—
    yet I only believed once the pain swelled,
    and I realized that I was bleeding out…

    April 24, 2015

    By: Lucy K. Melocco

  3. BDP

    “High School Teens Driving Home After Swimming”

    A nighttime flash, a deer bolting, our car
    slamming the deer, deer twists, the car careens
    to the dirt shoulder, deer sliding over
    the roadway down into a side ravine.
    Rich slipping from behind the wheel, popping
    the trunk, grabbing the tire iron, telling us
    one headlight’s smashed, that’s not why we’re stopping,
    he’ll be back shortly, he has to do this,
    can’t leave a buck in pain. Or doe? Too fast
    to know which. We’re silent, car interior
    dark. Rich will go for the head, easiest
    to get the job done. The moments before
    the crash what did he see? The door opens,
    we don’t ask, his anguish heard, unspoken.

    –Barb Peters

  4. CLShaffer

    There Is A Baby Where My Desk Used To Be by C. Lynn Shaffer

    Just up from a nap
    I walk down the hall to write.
    Long months of nausea,
    swollen feet,
    new breasts housed in easy-access bra,
    slit cut into my stomach
    smiling beneath my button-up shirt

    forgotten
    as I breeze into the room.
    There is a baby where my desk used to be.
    I stand still and think
    as I likely will in years to come
    trying to recall why I entered.
    A decision was made and now
    Yes,

    there is a baby,
    and I must let her to sleep,
    make sure she’s breathing first
    then leave her.
    I find my feet and tiptoe out
    in surprise
    as in the moment she first latched on
    and my body, forgetting me,
    gave her what she needed.

  5. MasonKelsey

    A Father Looks at His Son

    In every son there is an Absalom,
    Adonijah, murderer, thief,
    An Oedipus, perverse, the sum
    Of every horror with smiling teeth.

    Wary, a father wonders, when
    His son disobeys, a test failed,
    Probing for rot he hopes is not there
    Never prepared for anger rebelled.

    That moment is the real test.
    Father, son confront what little they know,
    Mirror upon mirror, better and best;
    Bend, not break; yield and grow.

    Not perfect, how primitive our flaws,
    A father is always the most critical
    Of his slouching son, animal that gnaws,
    Loving the beast he sees and recalls.

  6. A. Ault

    “A Flicker in the Moment”

    Stars flickered like fire
    like a warmth that wasn’t there
    They spoke silence in that stillness
    fading
    behind the illusion of nowhere
    But the blowing wind breathed softness
    and the quiet settled in my bones
    beneath that blanket, gifted warmth
    quiet nothing, knowing wholeness
    a moment not alone.

    A. Ault

  7. mapoet

    Just in Time

    Hands are cold.
    Time to go in.
    What’s in the tree?
    Probably a nest,
    but better go see.
    It’s a hawk.
    Do I have time
    to get in
    front of him?
    Start taking
    pictures now
    in case he
    gets spooked.
    Wait. He’s
    turning his head
    all the way around.
    Come on. Make
    eye contact.
    That’s right.
    Click.

    By Michelle Pond

  8. shellkaysm

    Here and Now

    For here and now, let’s just stay;
    we are so worth the while,
    and each moment is an only chance.

    As dawn breaks, another day–
    a stretch, deep breath, a smile.
    For here and now, let’s just stay.

    Will we walk or shall we dance?
    This gift arrives just once;
    we are so worth the while.

    Make a memory or let it pass.
    The end of time’s unknown,
    and each moment is an only chance.

    -Michele K. Smith

  9. SGKilbride

    Q U O N D A M
    I sat there in the oncology wing
    Skipping the Sudoku and opting for
    Crossword puzzles instead,
    Visiting from the future,
    Dying in the past:
    1. Five letter word, not as adventurous as survival, not as privileged as living:
    E X I S T
    She was bald. I was bald.
    2. Six letter synonym for death:
    C A N C E R
    He held daisies in her hand. They were her favorite when she was five.
    (The year she died)
    3. What is the worst part of time-traveling?
    D E A T H
    He planted her in a field where all of the green grass grows.
    4. The hardest word to pronounce in any language?
    G O O D – B Y E
    5. A verb; what you do when your best friend is dead.

    Q-uietly
    U-nderstanding
    O-nly
    N-ow
    D-oes
    A
    M-oment
    Exist.
    S. G. Kilbide

  10. SGKilbride

    Q U O N D A M

    I sat there in the oncology wing
    Skipping the Sudoku and opting for
    Crossword puzzles instead,
    Visiting from the future,
    Dying in the past:
    1. Five letter word, not as adventurous as survival, not as privileged as living:
    E X I S T
    She was bald. I was bald.
    2. Six letter synonym for death:
    C A N C E R
    He held daisies in her hand. They were her favorite when she was five.
    (The year she died)
    3. What is the worst part of time-traveling?
    D E A T H
    He planted her in a field where all of the green grass grows.
    4. The hardest word to pronounce in any language?
    G O O D – B Y E
    5. A verb; what you do when your best friend is dead.

    Q-uietly
    U-nderstanding
    O-nly
    N-ow
    D-oes
    A
    M-oment
    Exist.
    S. G. Kilbide

  11. Hyork

    What Mom meant

    Poem moment
    with intent to invent
    structure not stricture
    picture not lecture
    verity and rarity but
    most of all clarity
    no posturing but posture
    whether straight on
    or slant.

    Holly York

  12. Marian O'Brien Paul

    Moment

    this one
    with one
    window pane
    between
    rain drops
    and
    electric heat
    radiating
    past laptop plastic
    warming my wrists
    while
    neural sparks
    within me
    transmit
    messages
    to my finger tips
    messages
    to lift and tap
    draw on memory
    to choose word
    I want
    discern which letters
    will spell it

    Meanwhile
    rain stops

  13. Sharon Ann

    Pivotal Moment
    Have you ever had that pivotal moment
    That changes your life
    Completely
    And, even if a seemingly
    Small thing at the time,
    Grows
    Sprouting
    Binding with tentacles
    And tendrils until
    You can hardly move
    Or breathe
    When will the evil spell be broken
    Releasing you from this fate?

  14. Kaylast

    Fae Folk
    There are moments when I believe in fairies.
    Like the leprechaun who stopped by my desk
    Short of stature with hair red as his sunburnt nose.
    He’d come down from Atlanta and
    Was trying to get to Florence.
    “There’s only one man I trust,” his mouth
    curved mischievously, “and he lives there.”

    Or the little girl I met at the Scottish festival
    Who gave me three hickory nuts in greeting
    The first disappeared when I discovered love
    The second I gave away
    And the third still sits in my coat pocket
    Because you don’t reject gifts
    From the Fae.

  15. strandedmoon

    Simple moments

    My life’s moments
    Were mostly sad
    Until the fated day
    When I decided
    To change my sights
    About the situations

    Inspiring moment was
    When I came back to write
    After my longest break
    Through I have buried myself in depth
    Of uncertainty and unhappy seeing
    The days were filled with whine and crash

    Today I love my every moment
    I am alone or with someone else
    That fills my heart with joys
    From sharing our own paths
    And make the visions together
    In simplicity and courage until they last

  16. Asha1000

    Word Moments

    Pilfer coded letters
    make word-spell magic
    to guard against
    brain-cell-stealing demons

    Decipher scrambled letters
    solve diagonal clues
    in cryptic crosswords
    make a Faraday cage
    to protect aging brain

    Steal word moments
    to balance a tectonic world
    to save one’s memories
    from being crushed
    by split-second earthquakes

    – Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming

  17. dextrousdigits

    In One Moment
    I can slide from normal activity
    and even joyous feelings to
    tears
    sometimes tears of loss
    sometimes tears of appreciation
    for precious moments remembered.

  18. dextrousdigits

    The moment I open my eyes from sleep
    I see I am still alive and given another moment
    In that moment I decide
    go back to rest land
    with possible dreams,
    continued recuperation
    or begin my physically active day

    If I close my eyes to rest
    I look forward to making the choice again.

  19. torigw

    Drive-Thru

    In the drive-thru at Starbucks
    I paw the barista’s shovel
    of a palm, looking for more change.

    It’s an instant that loops and loops.
    I am completely outside myself
    with grief, unfiltered sky overcast

    as my blindspot, tunnel of air
    between our Jeep and the siding,
    smell of peat in the coffee.

    Mom, says my son, gently, unlike
    himself, saving rebellion for home.
    His sister leans her cheek

    against my arm, unsure what else
    to do, trying to spark a small sun
    of warmth. I see my strickenness

    in the white’s of their eyes. The barista
    gives me the look of a zoo animal. Oh,
    I say, I got my coin, withdrawing a hand,

    paroxysm of giggles overtaking me,
    a behavior that started in the shush
    of church. Whenever I was pushed

    to the edges of a pew, faith would strike
    me funny. My kids can only see
    my shoulders shaking, giggle roiling

    unerupted. In their relief they forget
    the embarassment of my laughter,
    masks of worry falling to their laps.

    They laugh along with the loud stranger
    as we indicate back to the road.
    Tears course a map down my face.

    They’ve never seen me bereft before.
    I’ve never attended the funeral of a sister
    before, heard the ground dirt falling on her casket.

  20. Lynanne Carroll

    I think my one word for April would be hectic. I feel like these last couple weeks I’ve been playing catch-up a lot more than I wanted to when I started this challenge! But I am happy I’ve been able to pen a poem for each challenge/prompt, even if some were a little late.

    Dandelion

    When I blow those fuzzy white ‘petals’ into the sky
    it’s like wishing upon shooting stars
    11:11, or
    dropping a coin into a well
    but just for a
    moment
    I pretend each seed is a hang glider
    casting off into
    an alternate universe, a
    parallel reality
    and I latch on, allowing myself
    to be taken by the wind
    to live vicariously
    just for a
    moment

  21. StephanieMiller

    Stroke

    Resting
    The unadulterated paper waits
    The brush thunders downward
    Finding its target
    Ink bleeds luxuriant across
    The field of battle
    Running ahead of silky bristles
    Then pausing
    Slices upward
    And vanishes
    Into the next moment

  22. carolecole66

    The Cruelty of Small Children

    Who should I trust? Not the girl
    in the striped skirt and flowered blouse
    whose awkward oxfords shamed her daily
    nor the taunting boys who circled her
    on our walks home from school. These
    are the friends who shaped and bled me,
    whose names were inscribed on my palms.
    I asked her who she loved behind her
    blank eyes. Silence around the borders
    of the children’s cries sent us creeping home.

  23. Azma

    That moment

    Just another day
    with the usual
    mechanic ritual
    Where every chore
    has been copied and pasted
    on every day’s
    documented file.
    But today there was a glitch
    An unforeseen hitch
    where I slept a minute too long
    and the morning bus was gone

    -Azma Sheikh

  24. Brian Slusher

    BLACK RABBIT

    We all want It: the fix
    bad bliss, forbidden
    kiss. But this time It’s
    a chocolate rabbit
    stored in the fridge
    since past Easter, hard
    as sweet concrete,
    it waits, deliciousexy
    statuette that will
    break your teeth
    but you wantwill
    have it, and you take
    the serrated knife
    out of the drawer
    that glints like shark
    teeth made of ice
    and thisisthemoment
    anti-Alice you could
    decide not to follow
    that black rabbit
    but instead you’re
    in the ER, watching
    the attending stitch
    your finger, thinking
    not of the jagged scar
    no, only It, ifonlyataste
    of one shaving, as you’re
    bleeding and salivating

  25. Nancy Posey

    Away from technology all day yesterday, so I’m a day late posting.

    Moments

    Before time was marked
    by the perfectly calibrated
    ticking of the clock—seconds,
    minutes, hours, and day,
    we needed fewer numbers,
    fewer words—today, yesterday,
    tomorrow; morning, noon,
    twilight, evening, and night.
    We measured by light
    and by shadows, waking
    with the roosters, before
    the first rays of sunlight
    slide in through the window,
    sinking down into sleep
    when the house grew dark
    and our bones grew weary.
    In those days, moments
    could be captured like
    fireflies in a jar, lasting
    as long as the memory
    could summon them,
    without need to note
    their time or passing.

  26. Kim King

    Morning Makeup

    Dawn applies her pressed powder
    blush, sweeping the lightweight
    coral pigment across her pale skin
    to accent the hollows of her cheekbones
    with a universal shade highlighting
    her complexion with a subtle pink
    for a natural, healthy glow with pearls
    of luminescent golden shimmer.

    Ksquaredpoetry.wordpress.com

  27. AC Leming

    Frayed

    Pour the whiskey over my lacerated heart,
    light the fumes & cauterize my wounds.
    I’ll thank you one day, for the trauma,
    the drama & the realization
    that I could walk away.

    A heavy piece of paper
    bound us together,
    me to you,
    & you to me.

    We each buckled under the weight,
    fell to bloody knees,
    scraped hands raw
    in the attempt to separate the pieces
    of two crushed hearts.

    We reached the end
    of two different ropes.
    Once twined together,
    now frayed, unusable.

    We walked away
    in slightly different direction,
    & hope to find the happiness alone
    which eluded us together.

    1. AC Leming

      I’ve been a magpie lately, easily distracted by shiny things. I have been writing the prompts daily, just got behind on the posting them. Heh.

  28. drwasy

    Golden Moments

    Between the space

    when the rain drops onto the silent pond

    the last note of the violin trembles into air and the audience applauds

    the top of the inhalation’s arpeggio before the grateful exhale

    Golden moments, seemingly rare, but abundant when you pause
    to listen.

  29. Melissa Hager

    “The Wait”

    Facebook photos, consecutive
    posts, young son kisses mother’s
    pregnant belly, waiting for little
    brother to take his first breath.
    Next, exhausted friend lays
    her head on husband’s chest,
    his brain surrendering to tumor,
    waiting for his final breath.

  30. Margot Suydam

    Friday is the night

    I garner silk, put
    on a shiny blouse,
    the sheen divined
    from sweaty workdays.

    I let it always
    rustle and rub
    length of my arms
    heat of my ribs.

    I watch it strip away
    the sour wrestling
    in my skin, skim
    off the dull blue

    of my eyelids.
    I don silk pure
    like a masquerade,
    just for the evening,

    to be replaced
    when Friday’s finished
    and Monday morning’s
    on its way.

  31. Linda Hatton

    The Principle of Moments

    Physical quantity, distance
    form empty space
    unraveling you
              and
                        me.
    Yet uncounted sunsets, proof
    of matter in moment-
              um, connect us,
    shared indecision, giving in
    to the nature of physics,
    timeless repetition.

    -Linda G Hatton

    1. Arash

      Nice visual look to your poem, wish I knew how to do something like that.
      p.s. funny, I initially read one of the lines as you reflecting, kind of like saying “umm…”. But it was really the “um” of “momentum.”

      1. Linda Hatton

        Hi, Arash,
        I’m glad you read the “um” that way! It was my hope that would come across. If you add in this code before your words, it will create spacing:  
        (For each space, add one of those codes.)
        Thank you for commenting! 🙂

          1. Linda Hatton

            Oh yeah, because I wrote the code as I would to make the space. Oops! 🙂
            It would be
            & nbsp;
            but with not space between the & and the n.
            Thanks!

  32. Feshrat

    My ‘No’s
    Fariha Eshrat

    Life is a string of moments,
    beads threaded by the ‘yes’ and ‘no’s we give ourselves.
    I always give myself ‘no’s.
    Maybe that’s why the beads I wear
    are still plastic and crayon bits,
    the remnants of all nobody wants.
    Maybe it’s because growing up
    mama taught me not to fight,
    and papa
    taught me to smile, nod and not make a fuss.
    Maybe it’s because
    I’ve forgotten why it’s like to be happy
    and I don’t want to take chances
    at trying to feel something I can’t conjure.

  33. Jezzie

    BUTTERFLY

    The moment I saw him I knew he was for me but that it
    probably would end in tragedy. Of course, I was right
    but I couldn’t resist him, try as I might. He was a
    butterfly, a will-o’-the-wisp, when he kissed,
    wow, you knew you had been kissed.
    One look in his eyes, one touch
    of his arm, and I fell under
    the hypnotic spell of
    his magnetic charm.
    That fleeting moment I knew.
    Our relationship grew through life’s
    troubles. I had never intended to keep
    him in shackles, I wanted him to feel free
    but in one rash moment he asked to marry me.
    I knew it was meant so we gave it a try. Five years
    later alone again was I. It is impossible to cage a butterfly.

  34. shellcook

    Forevermore

    I am here,
    where you are not
    on this day,
    I want to put behind me.

    Looking out across the hills,
    I feel you here, there.
    You are everywhere.
    and living in my heart.

    On the last day of life,
    an injured heart
    decided to beat no more.
    I’d take you with me,

    if I could,
    to walk the paths,
    to pick up leaves,
    but you must live

    within my heart,
    forevermore and a day.

    Anne Michelle Cook
    4/24/15

  35. P.A. Beyer

    Darwin’s Secret

    That we learned to scale mountains
    and soar through the skies
    and swim in the open seas
    should be no surprise
    with our mashup of DNA inside
    of fish and bird and monkey

    Though science tries to proselytize
    with theories evolved over time
    I’m afraid it brings no relief
    to the question that weighs on my mind
    the one that, frankly, keeps me up at night –
    from what did we learn to dream?

  36. kissingtheshoreline

    “erlebnisse” by Drea O.

    once, i saw a shootout survivor get asked
    how one returns to normal after a traumatic experience.
    i will never forget how he answered,
    more calmly than i could’ve managed,
    that you can’t.

    there is no going back to normal after tragedy.
    only a new normal.
    a new sense of being.
    this is, after all, what tragedy does to you.
    leaves its scars– physical, emotional–
    you are never the same person you were before
    you can’t be.

    there is only moving forward.

    in my experience,
    everyone has their tragedies
    even if they are smaller things than
    surviving a shootout.
    everyone has something that has left a mark
    something
    they have to learn to grow from

    there is a word for this. german.
    it is ‘erlebnisse,’
    the experiences, good or bad,
    we feel most deeply.
    not the every day, commonplace moments, no,
    but the ones that shape us.
    the moments
    that give us that new normal

    we forget this, in the every day moments.
    forget that everyone has their erlebnisse
    moments that they are learning to live with.
    forget that is a survivor of something;
    is carrying a burden
    no matter how easy their path is to walk in other ways.

    this is why i am learning to speak
    with an open mind and a careful tongue.
    why i try to offer only love into the world.
    why i live trying to create a good erlebnis
    for the people i interact with
    because i do not know what burden they are carrying
    that weighs down their soul,
    but i do hope that
    a kind act or gentle word from me will, at least for today,
    help them

    to move forward.

  37. Raichyll

    I still remember the crazy crowd
    The night our band played, and we were “Thump. Thump. Loud.”
    A big giant party, outdoors, in the summertime
    With multiple bands playing, in the sweet warm sunshine
    How we played all afternoon, and well into the night
    How much fun we had back then, it was truly an awesome time
    The decibel level was always high, when our wall of guitars would play
    But, I’m sure we must have set some records on that funny Saturday
    How we’d learned, couple days later, on our back to work, Monday
    That we’d been heard, “Thump. Thump. Loud”, from three and a half miles away

    “Thump. Thump. Loud.”
    © Raichyll Mae Fine, 2015

  38. odhran

    Moment: The Moment After

    Not the moment:
    the moment after.

    An undecided moment:
    undecided as the light of the
    late winter afternoon.

    An unawere moment:
    unaware of what I knew
    like what the chaplain had said,
    where I parked the car,
    how I’ll Be Home for Christmas
    had been playing softly in my head
    for days,
    the chipped patch of yellow paint
    on the radiator
    (all I remember seeing).

    Not the moment:
    the moment after.

    An impossible moment:
    impossible as how
    I could hold
    both all the past
    and all of the coming absence.

    Copyright Kay Winter

  39. NSBreen

    WHAT HE MIGHT HAVE SAID
    by Nancy Susanna Breen

    She could see it in his eyes
    for a fraction of a second;
    then it vanished, and he moved on
    to something unrelated.

    She was certain, though,
    what he’d thought about saying;
    a sudden spark and glow extinguished
    by a rapid turning away.
    The rest of that evening
    on through a sleepless night,
    she replayed it: those eyes, a flare,
    less than a moment of wavering,

    then nothing. It was painful, but she
    had to imagine the carry-through,
    him putting into words
    what his eyes seemed to reveal.
    But it hadn’t happened, and her torture
    was not knowing if he’d loved her briefly
    but never would again.

  40. Max545

    Is there more than one?
    Has there ever been?

    The face of the clock
    lies with each tick-tock.
    Coquetry that plays upon perception.
    Deception the like of which
    we’ve never known
    somehow thrown
    upon us like a blanket.
    And we thank it
    for doing so.
    Ignorant of our woe
    but, if we plunge below
    the surface we can
    glimpse the truth of
    no(w)

  41. Rob Winters

    Lifeboat Drill

    By the luck of the draw,
    we stand in rows on the sunny deck.
    Those more fortunate wait in cushy chairs
    in the air-conditioned restaurant.

    We have found our station, and
    checked in with the proper authorities.
    As beginners, we are quite nearly first;
    others slowly straggle in as the alarms shriek.
    For reasons we don’t really understand,
    we need not wear Mae Wests like in the movies.

    We are the best of a sad-looking bunch:
    a motley crew of drunks and wanna-be drunks.
    Having been aboard only a few hours,
    some are already three sheets to the wind,
    while others carry an aspirational bucket
    of Corona bottles (banned at lifeboat stations).

    The real ship’s crew try to impress upon us
    the seriousness of the occasion, while not offending
    those who will be tipping them the rest of the week
    after they convert back into stewards and wait staff.
    Clearly, passengers fear no reef, fire, or malfunction.

    The ship is still at the dock.
    It will not leave until all of the stragglers
    get to their correct lifeboat stations,
    including those hiding in their staterooms
    while we swelter in the sun.

    Some Jimmy Buffet types try to leave,
    and must be herded back into the pack,
    like one of those games where you have to
    get all of the BB’s into the little holes,
    without losing the ones already in place.

    Finally, the last stragglers are found.
    They arrive to boos and catcalls from the imprisoned.
    As new-found friends exchange information,
    we are released from literally the first and last
    mandatory activity for the entire week.

    1. Rob Winters

      Heck, for some reason, on more than one occasion this month, I have been mystically ahead of the prompts. Here is the “moment” poem that I submitted two days ago for “I am …”

      That Moment

      I am that moment
      when you are careening down the freeway
      at better than a mile a minute, boxed in on all sides,
      and you realize that there is no reason at all
      that this should not go terribly, terribly wrong,
      because there’s nothing to stop the next guy
      from wiping everyone out.
      You might be the next guy, so there’s nothing
      to stop you either.
      Some rule book? Some social contract?
      Is that really all that’s keeping this flock flying in formation?
      What kind of comfort is that, really?

      I am that moment when, mid-flight, you think about
      the basic physics of air travel, and even if all the
      theorems and principles and technology don’t fail,
      there is still some underpaid dude with personal problems
      in the cockpit, making it all seem reasonable.

      I am that moment when you realize what you are eating
      and how it was made.

      I am that moment when you look over the railing
      of the rooftop deck,
      and even though you are feeling just fine,
      you think about possible
      outcomes.

      1. Karen

        I can see the beauty
        I can feel it
        the ache inside
        love needs
        expression
        ________
        Beauty and grace in motion
        fluidity of movement
        focused attention
        stills the mind
        in the present moment
        there is awareness.

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