2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 30

Today is always the most bittersweet day of the challenge. Sweet because we’ve made it through 30 days! Bitter because it’s day 30–the final day of the challenge. Tomorrow, I’ll share a next steps post on what to expect as far as results and such. Also, just a heads up that I’ll be busy hanging out with my mom the next few days–so you can play catch up on many of the final prompts through May 4.

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Bury the (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Some possible titles include: “Bury the Hatchet,” “Bury the Body,” “Bury the Past,” “Bury the Hate,” and “Bury the Acorns.”

Good luck, and thank you so much for another fun and rewarding challenge!


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Time is running out to 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.

Click to continue.


Here’s my attempt at a Bury the Blank Poem:

“bury the dishwasher”

in the back yard
or fill it
one last time

with flowers
instead of dishes
because if

it’s not one part
it’s another

& maybe it’s time
to return to
doing things

by hand


Today’s guest judge is…

Jessie Carty

Jessie Carty

Jessie Carty

Jessie Carty is the author of seven poetry collections, which include her newest full-length collection Practicing Disaster by Aldrich Press.

Other collections by Jessie Carty include Paper House, Fat Girl, and Morph.

Jessie is a freelance writer, teacher, and editor. Plus, she’s one of the nicest poets you’ll ever meet.

She can be found around the web, especially at http://jessiecarty.tumblr.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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1,086 thoughts on “2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 30

  1. gloryia

    No Looking Back

    we are
    eyes averted,
    an unexpected
    meeting this rainy day,

    a smile, with a touch of hands,
    brief as are the words we utter
    before passing on, not looking back

    at love’s past, at yesterday’s dream that died

  2. hannahmarie

    Bury that mess of a draft,

    sick and spoiled as it is,
    with frayed edges
    where white knuckles
    battled hard against
    wrong words – they forced
    themselves on the page,
    in bloody ink.
    Bury it.
    Let it rot.
    Let it lie,
    dormant and deep.
    Until you’re ready to
    rewrite the truth.

  3. fayina

    Bury the Fractures

    and the silver teaspoon
    we stole from the governor’s mansion,
    a hotel now
    and rather dull

    in the garden in Caldas da Rainha
    you said look there’s some
    ducks or whatever

    admit it’s all over,
    I dare you

  4. waplef

    My Seed
    Some people thing
    That I should plant
    My seed… down beneath the earth
    I don’t know
    Would it grow?

    Others thing
    That I should plant
    My seed…deep within my mind
    But I wonder
    Would it fly?
    Up to the sky
    And spread its wings
    Like butterflies
    Or would it die?

    I know you think
    That I should cast
    My seed… upon the ocean breeze
    And see what
    Fishes lay beneath
    The surface… of the sea
    And maybe
    Within the corals
    There would be
    A pearl
    Inside for me

    But this voice within
    It lets me know
    That I should plant
    My seed… within my soul
    Where heaven feeds
    And over time
    My seed…that wholes my dreams
    Would multiply

    My seed
    Found… its dwelling place
    Where all I am
    And all I ever hope to be
    Would manifest
    And fulfill
    My destiny
    And heavens gates
    Would open wide
    To reveal
    What was stored…within
    This seed of mine

  5. stepstep


    Grant us the chance to start over
    Begin like nothing has happened
    A chance for a brand new beginning
    No stone left unturned.

    Presented as the first time
    A model for all to follow
    Erased, retired, master of credit-worthiness
    Bury the debt, deep and far away.

    Bury the debt, wipe the slate clean
    Make it a bygone and done away
    A second chance to build anew
    Bury the debt and remove every cluse.


  6. BDP

    “Bury the Lightning”

    As you fall toward sleep, some thoughts zap your brain.
    You’re vigilant of psych-out thunderbolts,
    and most nights bring flash-strikes, fuss frittering—
    door locked, stove off, iron unplugged? Fret-jolts,

    you call them, tempted to zing back, take matches
    and burn off worry, watch it smoke. But then
    fire fought with fire brings its own storm, it catches
    your fears, sets them ablaze, you’re on the run.

    All this transpires while you’re awake in bed—
    eyes open, muscles tense, you try to move.
    Some lightning lays waste, parent’s death, don’t let
    your mind scorch once more, years later lost love

    yet does that: palms flat, scrape dirt, grit across
    flames. Rise, make tea, you’ve doused them for now. Just.

    –Barb Peters

  7. StephanieMiller

    Bury the Cat

    My husband has prepared the hole
    Square, small
    Damp and deep
    I knew, of course, that we would have to bury him
    But now that the moment has arrived
    I can’t put him so deep down
    In the cold
    I can’t leave him here
    He was my friend
    He slept with me
    While I recovered from surgery
    Licked me with his warm, rough tongue
    Purred in my lap on winter nights
    Cried for me in hunger and pain
    We lower him to his last lair
    Cover him with wet, black soil
    So many graves yet to come
    So much larger
    And so much deeper

  8. KatieHolmes2

    Bury the Seeds

    Bury the seeds deep in the ground,
    Then when a little time passes
    A plant will be found.

    A flower, a bell pepper
    Garlic galore,
    Green onions, cucumbers
    Cabbage and more.

    So Bury those seeds
    Water the soil,
    Pick them when they’re ready
    Don’t let them spoil.

    -Katie Lynn-

  9. C. Kess

    there was already a cavern
    under penn-north
    they buried the swing
    and the bop marquee there
    and a pile of fish and grits
    hidden under a switch

    ran downtown
    ran the tracks back
    hooked up sunday
    dragged it out past the county green
    and back
    you might find it under the mezzanine

    these days they mine for gunsmoke
    and the angry dragon
    black breath
    to smoke out hope (and the CVS)
    its the circus for the new millenium

    the greatest show used to be billie
    singing low
    now it’s just a stone’s throw

  10. Writerhoward

    “Bury(ing) Seventh Grade”

    Billy: most of the girls
    Taller—and all the boys
    Including me, not a lot,
    But noticeably, his height
    A cell without a key.

    Sidney: I tilt my head
    To see his eyes, hair
    A rusted red, acne hiding
    Most of his face, my smooth
    Skin, no protection;

    Warren: his mouth, his bullhorn,
    A taunt machine, his belly
    The baby he loved to feed,
    Only one not in my class—
    Not as able to read,

    My thinness their target,
    My weight advancing
    In ounces, not pounds,
    Their darts flung at my heart,
    Points razor-sharp,

    Each hit contorting my face,
    Each contortion quickening
    Their pace, experts
    At twisting hyperbole
    So it’s taken literally—

    My anger still churning,
    Full-grown—rode up an
    Elevator with Sidney,
    Unrecognized, our heights,
    His face, the same.

    My bugle sounded “Charge”!
    My body refused to budge,
    Near bursting, for seconds,
    Each an hour
    Long, no escaping,

    Anger’s seed watered until
    On my mind’s screen
    The why appeared:
    Three became one
    To mask their frailty.

  11. Linda.E.H

    Bury Me!

    digging toes in sand not enough
    he asked to be buried
    right up to his neck

    cupped hands
    carved away grains of sand
    as if digging a hole to China

    then packed it
    snug, all around his body
    until he was not himself

    a mummy in a tight tomb
    preserved in the sun

    a head, alone
    like a brain in a vat
    they the mad scientists

    refusing to let him out
    adding seashell boobs
    and sea tang pubic hair

    they didn’t know
    about sand holes collapsing
    engulphing people

    hadn’t expected
    they’d be fulfilling his request

    Linda Hofke

  12. pomodoro

    Bury the pecs of the past

    Here comes the girl with the serpent tattoo who hangs her iPod
    on a string around her waist,
    the Harley rider in black leather, do-rag, and shades,
    the woman with the crooked smile who neck wrestles her llama,
    the veiny-cheeked fellow angular as a poisonwood tree,
    the pony-tailed waitress who uses her keys like brass knuckles-
    they all meet at the gym
    and, oh Lordy, they sweat.
    From morning till night, they bench press barbells,
    squat and lunge to the insistent throb of Aerosmith, hear Steven Tyler wail
    Got to get that monkey off my back
    I’m quittin’ sugar, says the woman who gulps bitter tea.
    I made believe the devil made me do it
    I chucked my Zippo, says the man who cleans his ears with matchsticks,
    and emptied my last bottle of Kickin’ Chicken.
    You best believe I had it all and then I blew it
    These are the gym rats, in this cave of city brick yellow as smoker’s teeth,
    weighed down by remorse, regret and dimpled thighs.
    Bakers and bookies and painters and plumbers
    stare at mirrored walls, the half-truths in their eyes.
    They labor, fail and try again
    and oh, they sweat.
    They feast on that moment of flawless form,
    a fleeting moment of perfection,
    and breathe in the present before it becomes the past,
    never to be perfect again.

  13. SGKilbride

    Bury the Heart, Content

    Bury the heart, content,
    Because planting seeds may prevent
    Disappointment during spring time floods.

    Bury the heart, content,
    So it may fossilize, calcify, pacify, cement,
    An unrequited love another can’t forget.

    Bury the heart, content,
    So you can toil in droughts beneath summer sun
    And remember love was never meant to be easy.
    It was meant to be left incomplete, undone.

    S.G. Kilbride

  14. JayGee2711

    Bury the Rain

    There is no guarantee
    the moon will bring the rain
    or the other way around,

    the truth a veil,

    the laundry hanging heavy
    on the line,

    silence stirred
    like a silver thread
    through the last
    cold sip of coffee
    in my cup.

    Julie Germain

  15. Lynanne Carroll

    This is much later than I normally post; if I miss, I usually make it up the next day (though there was that one that was a day after the next day). But this week/weekend :o…had a conference, a yard sale, had to remove some mold from the house (!!), had homecoming…it just went on and on. And, to top it off, sinuses are acting up! So here’s my poem…a bit late. 🙂

    bury the outside

    she paints stick figures, trees and smudged
    raindrops with willowy fingers on invisible walls
    enclosing her mind while she sings
    nonsensical lullabies
    that echo through
    unbreached solitude.

    she is Unreachable.

    she will never suffer defeat, but will
    always wonder
    what the outside
    has become

  16. mmarie

    (In addition to the daily challenge, I’ll be using an all-encompassing theme of “self-acceptance” to link all my poems together this month)

    Bury the Truth
    by M. Marie

    Bury your head
    in the sand,
    like you always do.

    I don’t care.

    While you
    in the darkness
    and coldness
    of your denial

    I run
    across the
    bright and beautiful
    under the sun.

  17. laurie kolp

    Bury the critic

    next to your computer
    bury him in the piles of paper
    wadded at your feet,
    beneath the weighted doubt,
    toss him out like cold coffee
    forgotten in the microwave
    when begotten by another thought
    you hoped might please
    but did not once again
    exhume the quibbler
    from within

  18. Austin Hill

    I tried, I really did! I couldn’t resist the call (uh, shout) to edit and re-submit.

    Bury the Need

    …to Be Precise

    I left a number out of yesterday’s Poem-a-Day
    and fought with myself for about an hour as to whether or not
    I should edit the poem. I didn’t.

    I won!

    …to Always Match

    I wore a gray skirt with pink dots with a pink top with gray dots
    (and they weren’t even the same fabric) and told myself all day
    that it was okay.

    It was!

    …to Be Perfect

    I lied about using the gift card that my daughter gave me last year.
    I gossiped about my neighbor.
    I ate two bowls my favorite ice cream after everyone went to bed so I
    wouldn’t have to share it. And all of this happened just this week.

    I’m not!

    …to leave a chair pushed away from the table
    …to leave a cabinet door open

    …to Write a Poem Every Day

    Not gonna even try!

  19. tobysgirl

    Bury the Past

    I wish I could walk away and not look back,
    this life you lead is totally whack.
    Get your life together, so we can be friends,
    if it stays like this,
    well, it has to end.

    –Jennifer McCann

  20. shethra77

    Bury the Body

    Bury him,
    but only after
    you gouge macadam to
    free the formerly
    sacred ground.
    Dig it up carefully,
    cataloging the layers, and
    brush the bones free.
    Lay bones out in the
    shape they bore when they were
    happily articulated.
    DNA test a molar core and
    compare it with the
    DNA of known descendents.
    Declare in meeting, in celebration, the
    knowledge gained,
    display the face the bones formerly bore.
    Check the ground where his
    guts decayed away and find what
    sad parasite remains.
    when all is sure,
    tuck him back
    into consecrated space.
    Let memory of him shine again.
    But his slain body is bones.
    Bury them well.

    Shethra Jones-Hoopes

  21. A.R. Bonner

    Bury the Old:

    Bury the old
    In with the new
    Out with baggage
    and depressing attitudes
    Dead end jobs
    Negative friends
    Choices that lead right back to were you began
    Other people expectations of you
    Encouraging frustrations from lost generations
    Mediocre dreams
    Bury the old in a casket
    Pour fire on it, light a match
    Outpouring of entities laugh
    In comes the new, fantastic
    Ravaged by new feelings of gratitude
    Positive vibes
    Fumes of
    and Goodness rule
    … when you Bury the old and bring in the new.

    ~A.R. Bonner

  22. James Stack


    growing up in the south
    I had quite a few teachers
    in middle-class living and dining rooms
    who taught me to hate

    those of a darker pigment
    were spoken of negatively
    and not in hushed tones
    as one might expect
    100 years
    after a war that
    set them free

    during a Thanksgiving dinner
    a set of grandparents
    referenced the monkeys
    while those they were disrespecting
    were serving them their meal

    50 years later it perpetuates
    in the bedrooms and kitchens
    across this great country
    about anyone dissimilar
    in any way

    its not as if only one group does it
    at the expense of all others
    but everyone does it
    to some extent or other
    intentionally or not

    when I moved to Boston
    after college
    I discovered that bigotry was rampant
    while I had been taught to hate only people of color
    up New England they hated everyone
    the least bit different

    the Irish Catholics hated the Irish Protestants
    the Irish hated the Italians
    the Italians hated the Asians
    the Japanese hated the Chinese
    the straights hated the gays

    and so it went
    ad nauseam
    and unfortunately
    it still goes

    I’ve struggled with my narrow-mindedness
    ever since I became educated
    ever since I became good friends with a black man
    ever since I became an adult
    and knew better

    it’s not as if bias is something you can unlearn
    after it has been drummed into you
    throughout your youth
    without defenses to prevent it

    yet I am hopeful it is dying out
    as I know when we buried my parents
    at least two of the educators
    had passed away
    – bless their hearts

    but it will take more than one generation
    to end this rampant insolence
    will it ever end completely
    since there is still so much present today

    perhaps a symbolic funeral in Arlington cemetery
    with a monument to All the People of the World
    where every year we could come together
    on a national holiday
    celebrating our similarities

    so the next time a hateful thought surfaces
    that’s directed towards a group of people
    or even one person
    think about the karma you emit
    ricocheting back to shatter your shell

    for by perpetuating prejudice
    you must understand
    that the one you are bigotring
    is most likely bigotring back at you

    time to bury the unbearable bigotry

  23. Shennon

    There once was a white dog named Mack
    Who buried his bones in the back
    But when he forgot
    To mark ev’ry spot
    He worked hard to look for a snack.


  24. DanielR


    Smile and fade into oblivion
    mesh with the white of the walls
    in your one-bedroom south of downtown
    tell yourself another day you’ll go outside
    make a toast with a glass of spoiled milk
    knowing the mustache remnant it leaves
    is the only make-up you need for the party
    the voice in the hall is a glorious melody
    a reminder your casket is not closed
    until it diminishes to a whisper
    compelling you to scream,
    “Is anybody listening?”
    breathless and suffocating
    silence is the answer.

    Daniel Roessler

  25. Scott Jacobson

    The exposure wasn’t perfect.
    Nor was the focus. The figures
    could barely be made out.
    The grandfather holding
    the future in his hands.
    The granddaughter hugging
    goodbye to a past that she
    will never remember
    until she finds the photograph
    at the bottom of a drawer.

  26. uvr

    Bury The Music

    My soul sings 
    of my love 
    for you 
    a melody 
    so painful 
    I bury it 
    deep within me 

    I turn up 
    the radio 
    to drown out 
    the refrain 
    that rings 
    in my ears 

    I let the sounds 
    of the world 
    fill my heart 
    so it can forget 
    the words 
    of the song 
    on which 
    we soared
    to the heavens

    When the noise abates 
    the swelling silence 
    screams in my mind
    but I can still 
    hear the tune
    that never 
    stops playing

    Uma Venkatraman

  27. seingraham


    We put you in the ground,
    we lowered your remains,
    we tried to bury every
    awful thing you did with you,
    as the wind blew hard
    and the rain streaked down.

    The priest’s words whipped
    away, carried on the storm,
    as we held each other upright,
    heads bowed, eyes streaming,
    mouths clenched tight against
    words we might say in haste.

  28. JocyMedina

    Bury the “What ifs”

    When tears run through “Never”
    Make all words feel dead or loose
    Burying the “What ifs” forever
    Make all dreams turn into truth

    Remembering is to live again
    Without the chance of changing it
    Regretting is to dream in vain
    Without the chance of faking it

    Fast forward to the part
    Where plans were all in flames
    no matter luck or chance
    let’s do it all the same!

    Its good! Its good! Its great.
    Say farewell to the “What ifs”
    Not even if owned “Change”
    I would change a single thing.

    By Jocy Medina

  29. Thedeb

    Bury the children
    for the sins of
    their fathers.
    Those who raped the earth.

    Black skies and water
    tainted air not fit to breathe.
    Fate of heartsick waifs.

    is their legacy of shame.
    Lost souls without tears.

    Sent from my iPhone

  30. ameyer15

    Bury Me Deep
    By Amber D. Meyer

    Bury me deep in the memory of your heart.
    I have departed but I’m not gone.
    My soul set sail for a land uncharted.
    But our paths will converge before too long.

    Sing songs for me and hold our moments dear.
    Let me wander the shores of your mind,
    Whenever you long to have me near
    And I will send messages for you to find.

  31. Angie5804

    Bury the Shorts

    Back around 1993, we buried the shorts
    Put them in a shoe box and dug a hole in the side yard
    There was a little ceremony as we laid them to rest
    They’d had a long life, served their purpose
    Become rather holey
    I wonder if we go back
    Would there be a shorts tree there
    Growing out-of-style shorts
    Free for the picking

  32. Bonniejean Alford

    Bury the Future
    A poem by bonniejean alford

    For all the yesterdays my heart has suffered,
    the future looks just as bleak.
    Hopelessness wants to prevail,
    as that has been the standard.

    What chance of happiness does my soul have
    when its destined partner makes the choices that it does?
    But, to be happy is likely overrated.

    At this point I would settle for contentment,
    with options provided that fulfill our needs indeed.
    To be content would bind my past within the memories,
    leaving the effects finally at a minimum.

    Talking through the hurdles we face,
    a most present need for the future we seek.

    Truth, however, is abundantly clear;
    Action is the most important ingredient to our success,
    lest we bury the future our souls demand.

  33. Michelle Hed

    Bury the Long Goodbye

    So done
    with the hugs…repeated,
    with the last minute questions,
    with the phrase ‘just a minute’
    and ‘this will just take a sec’.

    Just give me a hug, kiss or handshake,
    a kind word or two
    and send me on my way.

  34. Michelle Hed

    Bury the Young

    No one should
    but it happens
    and your tears
    won’t cleanse their souls
    for their souls need no cleansing –
    they were born pure
    but our souls
    need help;
    when the ‘why’
    cannot be fathomed,
    when the time
    was not enough,
    when the ache
    runs in a crevasse so deep
    you don’t think
    you will ever climb out.

    I don’t want to bury the young.


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