2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 28

On April 30, an online poetry workshop course will be starting up at Writer’s Digest University: Advanced Poetry Writing. Don’t let the name fool you; the course is for all levels and offers six weeks of poetry and critiques with a poetry mentor. Click to continue.

Here’s the final “Two for Tuesday” prompt of the month:

  1. Write a matter poem. Matter is what things are made of.
  2. Write an anti-matter poem. The opposite of a matter poem.


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Celebrate National Poetry Month with a super poetic collection of poetry-related products with the National Poetry Month Collection!

This super-sized kit includes 4 e-books, 3 paperback books, 7 tutorials, and much more! In fact, this kit covers everything from prompts to poetic forms and from revising poems to getting them published.

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Here’s my attempt at a Matter and/or Anti-Matter Poem:

“problematic equations”

for any one person
there are things that matter
& things that do not which
they call anti-matter

not one thing that matters
matters for every one
& all anti-matter
matters to somebody

& the only reason
reason never seems to
work is that one person’s
matter is another

person’s anti-matter


Today’s guest judge is…

Eduardo C. Corral (photo by JW Stovall)

Eduardo C. Corral (photo by JW Stovall)

Eduardo C. Corral

Eduardo C. Corral is a CantoMundo fellow. He holds degrees from Arizona State University and the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His poems have appeared in Best American Poetry 2012, Beloit Poetry Journal, Huizache, Jubilat, New England Review, Ploughshares, Poetry, Poetry Northwest, and Quarterly West.

His work has been honored with a “Discovery”/The Nation Award, the J. Howard and Barbara M. J. Wood Prize from Poetry, and writing residencies to the MacDowell Colony and Yaddo. He has served as the Olive B. O’Connor Fellow in Creative Writing at Colgate University and as the Philip Roth Resident in Creative Writing at Bucknell University.

Slow Lightning, his first book of poems, was selected by Carl Phillips as the 2011 winner of the Yale Series of Younger Poets competition. The recipient of a Whiting Writers’ Award and a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, he currently lives in New York City, teaching at Columbia University in the spring 2013.

Learn more at EduardoCorral.com.


Poem Your Heart Out, Volume 2

Poem Your Heart Out, Volume 2

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.


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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769 thoughts on “2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 28

  1. gloryia

    Lady Moon

    moon’s soft
    light, dancing
    shifting shadows
    that transform the night,
    illuminate corners
    lost to darkness in misty
    evening mellowness, as autumn
    sheds its gold and russet leaves to pile
    in velvet heaps beneath a starry sky.

  2. hannahmarie

    “Mind over Matter”

    an Indian Yogi
    begged to be buried
    worth it
    to prove that
    equals control

    if you can

    s l o w

    your breath
    the pulse of your heart

    he claimed
    no supply of earth
    could steal away
    the will to live

    -ing he emerged
    from his
    self imposed tomb
    cold and stiff,
    but breathing still
    they called him a fraud

    no surprise to me
    -ditating bears
    hold their breath
    through snowy nights
    safely waiting

    I’m still waiting
    to be safe

  3. lawrencek

    Holly Would

    Aspiring actresses
    bauble breasts,
    corset cheeks,
    dishing dirt.
    Envy envelopes
    fans fanning
    gooey gossip
    handling hangers-on.
    Ionizing images,
    jerks joke.
    Kunzite knobbed,
    lounging ladies
    mimic mangled
    nip-tucks nit-piked.
    Opalescent ovaries,
    pretty pouches
    quench quinine.
    Rouge roughens
    slow satin
    tea-totalers tying
    ugly Uggs.
    Vigorous Veronicas
    wrestle women
    ‘xploiting XXX’s
    yo-yo Yolandas.
    Zoo zip-locked.

  4. StephanieMiller

    Children’s Hospital

    Her children
    Circle round her
    Like bees around their dying queen
    Uncertain what lies beyond serving her
    She will not forgive them
    For all they have taken from her
    Her money, her time, her freedom
    Her figure!
    She his lived all of life
    Fists clenched
    Jaws set
    The hard, negative charge
    At the center of their meager universe
    She dispenses her venom
    In measured doses
    Enough to poison
    But never kill
    Even death won’t blunt her jagged edges
    With her last breath
    She exhales her final bitter legacy
    They bicker
    And worry their tattered love
    Lost without a center
    To focus their tired rage

  5. Linda.E.H

    More of a thought than a poem.

    You escaped
    through a black hole
    in a metal tunnel,
    a passage from mortality
    to unknown realms of beyond.
    Did you think you didn’t matter?
    Or does the matter
    lie more in the fact
    that you just didn’t

  6. seingraham


    In the everydayness of things, there’s so much
    with which we concern ourselves
    that matters not in the least.
    The minutiae of life consumes hours, even days
    of our lives
    without us even considering how by rote we do
    most activities, just putting one foot before
    the other.
    The matters that should figure prominently for
    each of us, must fight to get through
    the pall of ordinariness that surrounds every
    and all things.
    Our shroud of distraction and protection; a
    construct created over years
    when fear of the extraordinary – even of great
    wonder – has bent us back to being
    satisfied with ordinary,
    just so long as matters unexpected or unpredicted
    don’t leap up and bite us.

  7. mmarie

    A Matter of Principle
    by M. Marie

    “Do you regret it?”

    What kind is question is that:

    Is it possible to regret
    your first act of bravery?
    No matter the
    there is
    so much
    to cherish
    in that memory.
    That story.

    So much to
    and gain
    from even the
    most disastrous
    first act of

    You can’t gauge
    the opponent’s
    risking that the
    first skirmish.
    The blood
    on the snow
    will melt,
    will fade.

    He’s looking at me
    in the
    rearview mirror;
    I meet
    his eyes.

    “I regret nothing,”
    I say into the night,

    and my words frost
    in the
    between us.

  8. Angie5804

    All Matter Sings

    Psalm 19:1-5a

    The glory of God in heaven declared
    His handiwork shown, by His love prepared
    The nights show knowledge, the days they do speak
    Their voice in all places, gentle and meek
    Through all the whole earth the song is gone out
    Like a bridegroom who loves without a doubt

  9. han

    “Made of memories”
    What are you? You’re a stranger to me now
    Okay, not really
    I still know you like the back of my hand
    You are made of green eyes
    that I think I’ll always love a little
    and a laugh that will forever sound like home to me
    You are made of your hands that are so touchy
    and the love you don’t want to feel yet
    You are made of your mom’s mistakes and
    the way she overcompensates for them now
    You are made of your big heart that decided to break a little
    and the always saying “I’m okay”
    You’re made of the desire to be close but the need to push away
    and all the sweat and sore muscles and long car rides home
    You are the goofball who never lets anyone see him cry
    and you’re made of a bunch of positive quotes to try and make me feel better
    You’re made of apologies and “what ifs” and that stupid smile
    You’re made of the beach and the sun and the late phone calls and the regret and anger and horrible endings
    You’re made of the pass bys without eye contact
    and all of the memories that are not happy to remember
    What are you? We act like strangers now
    But you are the boy I loved
    And time can never change that

  10. laurie kolp

    Gravitational Relationship

    Within reach, a black
    hole incites her.
    Seldom bound
    the virtual playground
    remains unreachable,
    Everything typical—
    free speech & quantum leaps
    his lack of consciousness
    unconscious, things that really matter
    gravitating away from what excites her.

  11. larrywlawrence


    It stunk like somebody dying dozens of eggs,
    the children shrieked when the baking soda
    plopped into vinegar and the balloons inflated.

    He stacked weights on bridge models made of
    notebook paper, cardboard and drinking straws,
    they cheered loudly as it collapsed and crashed.

    “Will it sink, will it float?” with an old fish tank,
    “Waves in a Bottle” with cooking oil and water,
    amazed at how it always goes back to the top.

    They laughed at riddles about the elements,
    glued Fruit Loops, Cheerios, and Apple Jacks
    on neon colored poster boards to show atoms.

    After a week, the water was gone, salt left behind
    and it was time for them to put away the books.
    The materials and mess are what really mattered.

  12. Scott Jacobson

    The mountain has no choice
    but to stand tall. The ocean
    swishes around being sluggish
    about being forced to stay
    at sea level. No matter
    what drugs you take
    you still can’t walk through
    a wall. I see your face
    reflected in a glass of wine,
    but you are no longer
    in my bedroom.

  13. JocyMedina

    Is there a One Day

    The matter is that
    I truly thought one day
    insane would mean clever
    and something crazy would join
    my past with my present… you tell me!

    Is there
    a “one day”?
    Please justsay it
    The matter is that
    There is not: one day!
    Because today is forever
    It is today or the highway
    The highway to now or never
    I took a minute, lost the lesson
    I took the picture, lost the second
    I thought one day I’d be the expedition
    It thought one day! I’d be my own mission
    One day! Ladi ladi ladi da, what’s really the plan?
    My feet stepped out, but my heart remained inside
    The matter is to do it no matter what, or we will just die.

    By Jocy Medina

  14. Jennifer

    No Matter What

    Let the wind twisted
    It will turn a new leaf that I can feed upon
    Let the fire rages on
    It has always helped me to see my path more clearly
    Let the rain fall
    It keeps me clean
    Let the ground shake
    I will learn to be flexibility
    Bring on your best thunderstorm
    Weathered, I can only transform
    Your enraged state keeps me motivated
    Your denial of responsibility helps me to accept mine
    Your depressed mind reminds me to be joyful
    Your malicious nature makes me strong
    Your jaded heart prompts me to maintain an energetic one
    All of your jesting of my imperfections grants me the power to help heal others
    All the dirt you throw upon my head
    I will use to build myself up even if I have to crawl my way out
    I may be larvae-small, meek and overlooked
    However, my patience, my faith will be revealed
    Someday, just wait
    After I get wrapped up in your consequences and become another victim in your crystalized lust
    Someday, I will fight my way out
    After all, you gave me the strength to do so
    Then, I will be free to dance with fireflies
    No matter what you do, I know I was destined to be a butterfly
    That is all that really matters

    Jennifer Gleason

  15. Jennifer

    The Therapeutic Matter of the Tongue

    The composer takes his position on the stage
    He directs his instrument to search
    The guitar strings pulsate through the choppy waters
    Some will strum along yet refuse to take hold of the helping fin
    Some will echo back and accept its lifeline

    The composer takes his position on the stage
    He directs his instrument to search
    The violin strums its heart strings humming a peaceful tune
    Some will exhale its dolce nectar
    Some will inhale its small, but powerful chirps

    The composer takes his position on the stage
    He directs his instrument to search
    The cuica drum thumps its rhythm straight through the jaded bones
    Some will bark and grunt threatened by its comical show
    Some will hang around hooting along to its fun melody

    The composer takes his position on the stage
    He directs his instrument to search
    The ocarina flutters its soft coos into the brokenhearted
    Some will place an ark over their ears; mourning their fall from love nest
    Some will rise above sorrow’s flood and bridge hope to a new land

    The composer takes his position on the stage
    He directs his instrument to search
    The trumpet announces its arrival as it pulls on the reigns
    Some will clutch onto the bridle neighing about the risk of a wild ride
    Some will put on their horseshoes and dare to ran with the wind

    Gently, the composer caresses the pitch
    Allowing the wind to guide his instruments’ tempos through the air waves
    Wisely, the composer travels along the sound spectrum
    Utilizing its frequency at the proper time
    A luminous song enchants the frail air

    The composer takes his position on the stage
    He direct his instrument to search
    Triumphantly, its breeze greets the ears of listeners
    Lifting his audience to their feet
    The composer takes a bow
    A beneficiary of his own arrangement

    Jennifer Gleason

  16. Jennifer

    The Tragic Matter of the Tongue
    The composer takes his position on his pedestal
    He directs his instrument to hunt
    The oboe vibrates through the reed
    Some may duck and avoid revenge’s dinner plate
    Some will be the goose is already cooked

    The composer takes his position on his pedestal
    He directs his instrument to hunt
    The saxophone bellows it frozen song through the arctic air
    Some may swim to calmer water of our pity’s sea
    Some will be drown by thick blubber

    The composer takes his position on his pedestal
    He directs his instrument to hunt
    The maracas shake rapidly warning of its anxiety
    Some may slither out of harms’ way in time
    Some will be poisoned as paranoia strikes

    The composer takes his position on his pedestal
    He directs his instrument to hunt
    The trombone blows a long and heavy tune
    Some will overcome discord’s weight on their leathery backs
    Some will be pierced by stomped on and crushed by the trunk’s debris

    The composer takes his position on his pedestal
    He directs his instrument to hunt
    The bass drum roars with a bellicose expression
    Some may escape the claws of jealously
    Some will become paralyzed by the piercing growls and devoured by its jaw

    Dauntlessly, the composer articulates pitch’s velocity
    Dominating the wind forcing his instruments sounds through the air waves
    Carelessly, the composer crosses the sound spectrum
    Pushing its frequency pass the red line
    The dark vernacular transforms the atmosphere

    The composer takes his position on his pedestal
    He directs his instrument to hunt
    Regrettably, it is out of tune
    He wheezes as his instrument is masked by another composer’s piece
    The composer falls from his pedestal
    The prey of his own arrangement

    Jennifer Gleason

  17. infliximox

    by Victoria Hill-Chalmers

    He got the feeling that
    if she kissed him in that moment,
    and their lips collided in the space
    of that passing minute,
    there was a possibility
    that the world might end,
    and everyone else would go along
    with it. Part of him decided that
    it just wouldn’t matter.
    Take away the earth from under his feet
    and sky above him, leave him with just
    her and only her. Figuratively,
    she already was his universe. What difference would it make?
    But then, he’d come to realise that
    she wasn’t one for moving with the moment
    and in the end, a kiss was just a kiss.
    Would it ever really do anything?
    They had neutralised each other,
    and disappeared between the cracks and particles
    of floorboards long ago. Their energy was gone,
    and they’d been left with a mutual black-hole.
    Maybe a kiss could solve things
    if they’d been incarnated as matter and anti-matter,
    and they could burst away from each other
    in a reaction of pure energy.
    Instead they ended like the flip of a switch,
    on one minute and off in the next–
    without the tiniest of recognition shown.
    There was always an action and a reaction,
    and in the end it was her ease
    that made him finally let go.

  18. Jemgemini

    Matter and/or Anti-Matter Poem:

    We matter
    By TeresaG

    How is it that one forgets just how and where
    One came forth from
    Was it the chicken or the egg 1st
    Did we just poof and wow I’m here
    How did life keep recreating each atom
    Every molecule
    The division and separation
    That devise our gene pool for humans
    We matter or anti matter
    Was it the anti matter that decided to walk away
    Did it have the knowledge to think outside the box
    To not conform
    To not follow the path before them
    Anti-matter was given birth
    From its twin positive
    Was turned into negative
    Neurons into protons Then electrons
    A single atom
    The Cells in which out bodies holds
    Carries history of times that
    Time has forgotten before
    It reaches back decades
    The matter of our matter is positive
    The anti-matter of matter is a negative form
    Yet still we co-exist with each other
    For out anti-matter
    One can not live without the other
    No cancellation
    Then we would not be
    No cells, single cell organism
    No electrons, no protons or neurons
    No periodic table
    See for matter and anti-matter to co existence
    One leads, the other follows and one
    Shall remain the same

  19. Connie Inglis

    What’s the Matter?

    “What’s the matter?” he
    asked of her.

    “Does it matter?” she

    “Why wouldn’t it matter?” he

    “Because no matter what you say,” she

    “Like what I say doesn’t matter?” he

    “…it won’t matter,” she

    “As a matter of fact,” she

    “Do the facts matter in this?” he

    “…none of this matters,” she

    “That may be the fact of the matter,” he

    “None of this matters,” he

    “It’s all anti-matter.”

  20. Gwyvian


    Substance in flux: eyes strung to a heart and
    the glow appears – but something writhes,
    something peers into the night and wonders…
    lest the moment be shattered, I retreat
    to anti-matter and drift into distances
    where time is never a cordial shackle
    and expectations cannot grapple with the force
    of that soft glow: perspective refocused;
    flux wavering to a steady haze—
    eyes strung to the ethereal lady of the moon,
    heart left drenched in amazement…

    April 28, 2015

    By: Lucy K. Melocco

  21. Khara House

    Not all that glisters

    You sink your hands into a tub
    of potting soil and show me—

    how much this matters.
    How deep brown dirt crusting

    the skin is more than a trick
    of shades merging to change you.

    How the trick of sand and light
    matters, turning you to gold.

    How fistfuls of dirt sprinkled
    like wishes over seeds can oh so

    literally change the world. How poppies
    matter. How butterfly bush. How hortensia.

    You overturn a stone
    with your bared toes, show

    the wriggling worming things that prove
    how loam matters. You show me the tongue.

    The teeth. How the blush of skin
    against a solar clementine matters, more

    and with the shadows and cottoned cumulus.
    You call this the seed of life,

    like the first pluck of a violin
    string to chords.

  22. Swati Mitra


    Power, possession and of course money-
    These are something that mattered to him.
    Too bad, these are all anti-matters for her-
    A lifelong loser and absolute sucker for love,
    A naive antithesis of everything life demands….

  23. jennglenn

    No Matter

    i don’t care how you style your hair
    or if your hair decides to fall out
    i don’t care how much you weigh
    how much beard grows on your face
    how much mustache climbs over your lips
    how much age changes your face and body.
    i don’t care about how much money you make,
    where we live, what we do, where we go.
    all that matters is when we’re old and gray
    and our bodies are sinking down our bones,
    wrinkles from our foreheads to our toes,
    you still kiss me like you’ve never
    tasted my lips before.
    what matters is the happiness i see in you
    when you look at me.
    all else is semantics.

  24. MarieJason


    My Matter met your Anti-Matter —
    And we exploded together in love,
    Making us Creators of something
    New to this known Universe.

  25. KMK_001

    Elements of fast food

    first, you have the
    raw ingredients.
    Cow, chicken,
    beef, and maybe

    Next, you scour the globe
    turning every rock,
    every leaf, every
    log, for those perfect

    The ones built with
    a robotic smile,
    greasy hair slicked
    back smooth as a

    “Order up!”
    Side of fries,
    thunder thighs,
    apple pies,
    cheesy prize,
    salt in the eyes,

    calories in

  26. jazzladyw

    Sweetness-Inspired by Madonna’s “Material Girl” (Matter-as in material things)

    You hear all about Sugar Daddies,
    well, I am a Sugar Momma.
    I’ll keep you nicely, shower you
    with all that you desire.
    Just show me a little skin,
    a little more please.
    Now smile when I tell you,
    laugh at the appropriate times.
    I will show you off at parties,
    you will be the eye candy of the evening.
    Don’t slouch, be charming.
    I pay you well, follow through.
    Thank you for being a good boy,
    now here’s your reward.

  27. MichaelMcMonigle

    Island of Self

    floating apogee
    out of reach
    taunting a flawed soul
    “Reach for me
    It’s worth it all
    Stretch yourself
    More and more and more
    Come closer and you’ll see
    But you will never touch me.”
    gravity locks us bound
    with rocks in our stomach
    and doubt in our head
    forever stranded

  28. Emma Tranter

    It matters

    It matters. Of course it does.
    Maybe you don’t scream,
    maybe you just tremble when
    you wake from his grasp.
    Trauma is not always
    going to be a warzone.
    Sometimes it finds you
    by your paint-chipped fingernails,
    and holds your hand like the
    child you thought you’d got rid of.
    Maybe you never see the view
    up the barrel of the gun,
    but you’re still collapsing.
    You are a fading star and
    that will always matter because
    you never ever deserved the dark.


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