2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 7

There is a prompt and example poem attached to each day of this challenge, as well as a guest judge, but don’t forget to check out the poetic posts at the bottom as well. There are links to poet interviews, poetic forms, and more.

It took an entire week to get to our first “Two for Tuesday” prompt this year, so I’m going to make it the one that I run every single year:

  1. Write a love poem. Yeah, I said a love poem, or, if you don’t like that option…
  2. Write an anti-love poem. I know there are some haters out there; go ahead and hate on love and/or love poems if that’s your thing.

So if this is your first rodeo, here’s how the “Two for Tuesday” prompt works. You can choose one of the two options; choose both options; and/or blend the two together in some way. Just be sure to write a poem.

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2015 Poet's Market

2015 Poet’s Market

Get your poetry published!

Writing poetry is one thing; getting it published is something else. Take advantage of the best print resource for publishing your poetry today with the 2015 Poet’s Market, edited by Robert Lee Brewer.

This annual reference includes new articles on the craft, business, and promotion of poetry, explanations of poetic forms, poet interviews, new poems, and hundreds of listings for book and chapbook publishers, print and online publications, contests and awards, and so much more–all for poets!

Click to continue.

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

“call it love”

o baby it’s true
been up thinking all night about you
& what’s a poet supposed to do
with flowers both red & blue

i guess i’ll just figure it out
i’ve been filling myself with doubt
since i last kissed your mouth
o yeah, i’ve been dreaming of the south

baby it’s true
been up thinking all night about you
& there ain’t nothing for a poet to do
but pin words upon these pining-for-you blues

these pining-for-you blues
call it love if it gets me on back to you

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Today’s guest judge is…

David Kirby

David Kirby

David Kirby

David Kirby has published over 20 books and is the Robert O. Lawton Distinguished Professor of English at Florida State University. His most recent collection is Biscuit Joint (Louisiana State University Press). His new and selected collection, The House on Boulevard St. (also published by Louisiana State University Press), was nominated for the 2007 National Book Award in poetry.d

Kirby’s work has won numerous awards, including four Pushcart Prizes, the James Dickey Prize, and fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Guggenheim Foundation.

Learn more at DavidKirby.com.

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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.

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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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More poetic posts here:

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956 thoughts on “2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 7

  1. Martina Dansereau

    MIDSUMMER OIL PAINTINGS

    I want to buy you flowers,
    or better yet, pick you
    a bouquet: the iris with
    her shining yellow eyes,
    the stargazer lily with her hands
    open to the sky, reaching,
    her tongue flashing
    like sunlight. If you rub a petal
    between your fingers, pollen
    comes off like dry paint.
    You finger-painted over my heart
    and called it a masterpiece
    and my hands are now covered
    in the sticky particles of love.
    I want to give you flowers:
    blood-sunset petals
    and dusted gold hearts.
    Say see how the wind takes them apart.
    Say this is what you do to me.
    What I’m trying to say is:
    You have always been enough.
    What I’m trying to say is:
    There is a meadow in my stomach
    with your name inside every tulip.
    We make Mother Earth jealous;
    she has never been able to grow anything
    quite as beautiful as this.

  2. Martina Dansereau

    I WISH I COULD TELL YOU

    How your voice makes me feel like there’s a sunrise inside
    my chest: warmth that floods in slowly and then all at once,
    clouds swollen with rosewater, lightness inflating like sea foam—
    you are pink skies and ocean air and the taste of ice water.
    How I couldn’t stand you for the first two days I knew you
    and then I loved you for the rest of time. How that love was like
    rainwater, collecting drip by drip, day by day, into the puddle
    of my heart until it was filled near to the brim. How some days
    it overflows and that excess torrents down in tears like a tempest
    dedicated to you. How your name is a hurricane in my mouth:
    tornado lungs and twister heart raging chest-deep, the electricity
    in the air after a storm. How you are like a breath of fresh air
    but at the same time it feels like I’m drowning. How sometimes
    this love is the gentleness of butterfly-lips skimming rosebud-fingers,
    but other times it is ferocious, a wolf pack dripping saliva with
    flashing teeth and jaws locked around limbs, snarling and howling—
    how sometimes this love feels like starving. How it keeps me
    awake at night imagining all the ways I could tell you—how I
    could hide the message in alphabet soup or an acrostic or a
    crossword. How you would ask me for help to decode it. How it
    breaks my heart when your sunshine-and-shadow sorrow radiates
    like steam off your skin. How I want to devour it whole, rip it
    out of your flesh with my teeth and fight it for you even as I
    catch sparks. How I wouldn’t mind burning with you if it would
    make it hurt a little less. How I wish I had more to offer than palms
    covered in poetry, but I am just a writer. I love from afar and then
    I write it down and I never tell you about the trails of devastation
    you leave inside me.

  3. AmyA

    Love Poem

    I did not know what love was,
    The kind that was sprouting in my soul,
    So I asked my father
    And he said
    Love is caring as much or more
    About someone else’s well-being
    As you do about your own.

    There was something right
    And mathematical
    About his definition.

    As I tested his theory,
    And found it true,
    That I cared as much, or more
    About your well-being
    As I did about my own,

    My father discovered he cared less
    About my mother’s
    And they separated.

    So it was mathematical, after all,
    Inverted fractions,
    Reciprocity,
    Or, in the language of language:
    Chiasmus.

    Can the universe only tolerate so much love?

    Amy Appleton

  4. Alemonlot

    My Faithfulness, the love of me

    I saw nearly every side of the man and the well, so when you ask me if I know that this man is the most anything, even if its good, I will kick you in the chin. The last thing I remember will be the color of your blood. As I bleed, running the streets running about, I get so scared he’ll climb out. Wondering about a mistress in a white dress but still thinking of holding my hand. It’s all in jest now anyhow. If there were more or any white ground at all, the imprints of where our bodies could be at any time would make it easier to locate where he fit in, but it would still be obvious that he never came inside me. Not even as close as hands. He couldn’t even murder me.

  5. MadPoet

    Precious Little Girl

    Her corner sits empty and bare.
    Since Daisy no longer sleeps there.
    No one props her head on Daddy’s shoe
    Or curls up in her bed as she used to do.
    Only one little bark greets us at the door
    We hear your raspy little voice no more.
    Only one tail wags in excited hello
    From a small, lonely Chi fellow.
    We’re glad you no longer suffer as you did
    And of all your troubles you are rid.
    But we miss you so very much and always will
    That hole in our hearts will never fill.
    So my precious little girl, rest in peace.
    Knowing our love for you will never cease

  6. Thedeb

    I love you.
    I hate you.
    Okay, I don’t
    really hate you.

    But you make me crazy!
    You really make me crazy!

    You’re so smart,
    but you act stupid.
    Sometimes.

    You’re so strong,
    but you can’t lift
    the toilet seat.

    I love you.
    I hate you.
    Did I tell you that
    you really make me crazy?

    You can do anything,
    except figure out how
    to operate the dishwasher.

    You can navigate the globe,
    but you can’t find
    the laundry room.

    You make me
    lose my mind
    you make me…crazy!

    But…

    When you hold me,
    my crazies float away,
    and all that is left is love.

    I hate you.
    I love you.

    There’s only you,
    and I’m crazy
    in love.

  7. JocyMedina

    Horizontal waterfalls

    I got up and fell,
    I stumbled, and there you were:
    – “Come on, it’s just one step after the next”
    I walked away and fell,
    I got up… and there you were.

    You poured Cuba through my veins
    And planted a child inside my womb
    You rolled out the red carpet
    and flew me to the moon

    You let me see the globe
    for I climbed Mount Longanut
    fought SARS in China’s underworld
    Walked all through the Great Wall
    Hiked Teotihuacan,
    Without O2 in my lungs.

    You showed me horizontal waterfalls
    And poured the world under my feet
    You showed me love in Trinidad
    You were always there for me.

    Now time has passed.

    I look back at the red carpet
    and I only see a dot
    I was always Mrs Wrong
    but so lucky to have you.

    Thanks or sorry wont just cut it
    For all I did to you
    I was having too much fun
    Poking holes into a wound.

    By Jocy Medina

  8. Jessica Cummins

    HANDHELD

    As the flames die, shift, spread
    The details burn
    Until you’re left
    Remembering
    That you held someone’s hand.
    Held it,
    Like it was the only thing left
    To pull you out of the sucking waters.
    So why, some days
    Do they all come flashing back?
    The one with the coarse hair
    Springing from between the first and second bends
    Patches of toughened skin
    From a summer of burying
    All that intellect and ambition in a Jersey field.
    The one with the freckle on the print side
    Of the stunted finger
    Spaces too small to comfortably rest mine
    Even before I outgrew the rest of him.
    The one with the artist’s fingers
    Long, slim, smooth, kindly padded
    For holding babies I always said,
    Imagining the whole of his hand cradling some soft limp head.
    I think of the ones that stopped mattering
    Once they left my body
    Wonder where they landed
    Wonder if they even remember my skin
    My hair
    My smile
    Under their hands.
    Until they fade and slip
    To yours
    The ones that hold
    And handle
    The way I wished all the others would.

  9. lawrencek

    LOVE VINES

    As
    apples baked,
    brown, cinnamon
    crusted dimples
    dotted each
    eye. Falling
    faster gliding
    gossamer hammock
    heavenward. Instinctively
    I juggle
    joyous kites,
    kettles, letters,
    leftovers, my
    man. Nimble
    nettles over
    orange perfumed
    posies. Quietly
    quills rain
    romantic storms.
    Sober trees
    tent ughter.
    Underneath Venus
    volleys wafting
    wisteria ‘xuberantly.
    XOXO. Yours,
    yes. Zesty
    zinnia.

  10. horselovernat

    All’s Fair

    Love is sentiment,
    a neon-flashing
    propaganda bandwagon
    for exposed weakness.

    Love is a perceived necessity
    in the pursuit of being happy
    that causes more wrong turns
    and U-turns than a faulty GPS.

    Love is for self-confidence lackers
    and personal life slackers,
    afraid of the dark
    and petrified by silence.

    Natalie Gasper

  11. stepstep

    REAL LOVE

    It takes more than good looks to stir the soul
    To stand the test of time;
    To be there through the thick and thin
    Each heart invested is yours as well as mine.

    Real love will last forever
    Through the struggles of each day;
    Don’t sweat the small things
    Don’t travel in dismay.

    Real love can and will take it all
    The bitter as well as the sweet;
    Real love is a conqueror
    It is fierce and strong, never weak.

    LaSteph

  12. LVidal70

    (c) 2015 Lorien Vidal

    BIG WHOOP

    What is the big, flipping deal?
    This is not real
    Is a state of mind reality?
    Can there be joy in duality?

    Everyone wears a mask
    Until they’re taken to task
    Opening their flask and pouring it all out
    Then they shout

    “IT” from the rooftops
    “IT” in the middle of the street
    “IT” isn’t everything
    “IT” cannot defeat

    The frailty of heart and cloudy of mind
    Then it grieves you
    Deceives you
    And leaves you far, far behind

  13. mcastillogarsow

    Poem for the love of my life who is no longer my love at all

    My father says I am obsessed
    with death
    Because I am Mexican
    We celebrate death
    with food & music
    Pan de Muertos
    Sugar skulls
    Tequila

    I wish I was drinking tequila.

    I think I am obsessed
    with death
    b/c I was born
    with half a heart
    knowing I had half
    the time
    knowing I wanted
    twice as much.

    I would have loved you with my half heart
    until my last breath.

    Knowing the last breath would
    have been before yours.

    I would have loved you more then anyone could love you.

    B/c even half hearted
    I’m more full hearted
    then most
    I just want to do good
    I am obsessed with death
    and good
    death & good
    I just want good
    Good is the people I hugged
    last night
    over & over.

    And now,
    I can’t love
    you
    who knew
    that ring meant
    you cheated
    and let me feel cheated
    for 8 months
    You who knew
    I though I wasn’t good
    and let people say it
    say I wasn’t good enough
    why did you let them say
    I wasn’t good enough

    Now I burn myself
    everyday
    for your dinner
    and don’t realize
    until I see my fingers
    pink & pealing
    two days later.

    I would have loved you more then anyone could love you.

    I am good.
    I am good.
    I am good.

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