2015 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 2

Great start to the November Poem-A-Day Chapbook Challenge yesterday. If you missed the prompt, you can get it here. Themes are not a requirement for this challenge, but they can make it fun. Sometimes, I come in with one in mind; other times, it just kind of evolves. This year’s is starting to evolve, and I hope it continues throughout the month. Happy poeming!

For today’s prompt, write a surrender poem. A person can surrender to the authorities or a mob, but people can also surrender to a feeling or to music. Or leftover Halloween candy (at least, “my friend” has had that problem). I hope you surrender to your poetic impulse.


Recreating_Poetry_Revise_PoemsRe-create Your Poetry!

Revision doesn’t have to be a chore–something that should be done after the excitement of composing the first draft. Rather, it’s an extension of the creation process!

In the 48-minute tutorial video Re-creating Poetry: How to Revise Poems, poets will be inspired with several ways to re-create their poems with the help of seven revision filters that they can turn to again and again.

Click to continue.


Here’s my attempt at a Surrender poem:


Before midnight, the news broke that Hank McGee
was wanted in connection with the missing teen.

Just after midnight, McGee surrendered himself
without any fuss, though he didn’t understand why

they singled him out. Of course, it was pretty obvious
after the press conference with the chief:

McGee was the local pot hook up that Wilcox used,
and it was known by more than a few that he’d

run up a bit of a debt as well–to the point that McGee
told associates he wanted to even up by taking

his wheels or his girl. Or both. Beyond that,
Crazy Joe saw them racing on Witch’s Bend

the night Wilcox went missing. “We have a motive,”
said the chief. “Now, we just need the guy and his car.”


roberttwitterimageRobert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of the poetry collection, Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He edits Poet’s Market and Writer’s Market, in addition to writing a free weekly WritersMarket.com newsletter and a poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine.

This is his eighth year of hosting and participating in the November PAD (Poem-A-Day) Chapbook Challenge. He can’t wait to see what everyone creates this month–not only on a day-by-day basis, but when the chapbooks start arriving in December and January. Fun, fun, fun.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.


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321 thoughts on “2015 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 2

  1. Maeflower

    Surrendering to a Delicate Condition

    She saw the teacup full of earl grey tea with its river of milk
    perched on the corner of the kitchen table,
    and the vaseful of poppies wilting with petals like thin red lips,
    and the wood cabinet filled with her bone china plates,
    (and she thought of her own bones deep within her),
    and she remembered the bubbles she once blew on a summer’s breeze,
    and of the butterflies fluttering about her garden,
    and she thought of her memories,
    and her emotions,
    and herself.

    And then she saw the white lace curtains billow in through the open window.

  2. Jane Shlensky

    Little Lessons

    Gaze up on a clear day and float
    with October in your eyes.
    If Autumn skies can teach us anything,
    it is to be thankful for breath,
    to be mindful of wonder,
    to surrender to blue.

  3. Jane Shlensky

    The Death of Eve

    Lord, I’ve been dying for nine hundred years,
    waiting upon a promise slow to come,
    that old man beside me still laying blame
    and pointing to mistakes as if they’re mine
    alone, as if he’s innocent himself.

    Why poison fruit with knowledge, endless life,
    if You begrudge your creatures? This slow death
    set in before the wily serpent came,
    for every day the man pushed me to work
    the garden, listen to him talk, become

    his willing receptacle, his ‘helpmate’.
    Surrender? That should be my honest name.
    Give in to rules, to definitions, words.
    Kneel down to clods, to droughts, to one old man.
    Accept his fault, bear his kids, raise them up.

    Stand mute to murder, jealousy, exile.
    Take blame for that as well. Eden is gone.
    Protect your nameless girls and bear him Seth,
    the spitting image of that ancient fool,
    his father, who still raves he looks like You.

    Pity comes hard for one who bears the load
    and waits just like a beast in hope of rest.
    I’ve lived infected with imaginings,
    with knowledge that a human life is pain,
    that death is sweet reward. God’s law transcends

    mankind’s, I’ll give you that. But You were wrong
    about real punishment. Not childbirth pain,
    but gross ingratitude. Not hard labor,
    but endless subservience to that man
    who in your absence, thinks he’s You. Good Lord.

    He won’t even acknowledge when I die,
    nor take to heart the daughters, like the sons.
    I worry womankind will become slaves
    longing for freedom, dwelling in dirt. Lord,
    you’ve seen me dying for nine hundred years,
    waiting upon Your promise slow to come.

  4. Khara House


    Remember summer
    and all its passages—the sky
    softening like a sigh for cotton
    clouds we pick with long
    thick fingers of aspen and willow.
    We breathe easy,

    even for a hundred degrees
    of separation between a solstice
    sun and harvest moon. We give a little—
    let the rains quench
    the fires we burn
    for the wheat and chaff.

    Fall into the sonata
    of seasonal decline,
    the crescendo of heat
    against cheeks pressed
    into daylight.
    We season ourselves

    with pinches of the past,
    rise fragrant
    for a fawning light
    that paints us in
    shade. We bathe in rust,

    by the jazz
    of deciduousness.
    When the rains come
    we pour ourselves out,
    diamonds steeped
    in teacup coal.

    We find ourselves in wool,
    sheep for the howling
    wolfing winds. Roll in, zephyrs!
    Carry us as cargo
    to all seven seas.

  5. PKP

    on yawping and yearning

    I surrender this yawping yearning to
    sit in this gaping gawping abyss-me
    I set down the shovel and surrender
    the need to dump sweet dirt into the
    open grave of my soul opened in fear
    I confront the chill that rises within to
    Ice my fingertips growling from my gut
    shiver-shaking – in senseless direction-
    less frantic wanting – I am through with
    waiting and wandering – wondering and
    pondering the hole with which I arrived
    and cease mistaking a microscopic chaos-
    chasm for an agony to be filled with things
    and people and accomplishment and sweet
    satiation and come to see the sacred slit of
    a Some-time Universe sparkling in a future day
    when I shall fall into and through this emptiness-
    this exit of my soul – until that day I will try with
    each fibre of my being to hold this place safe and
    open and turn my head from the striving to fill a place
    meant to remain a space free and open and in-awaiting
    for that final day when I will fall back into the me-my-self
    fall back with loose limbed lovely lassitude – fall back into
    eternal softness- finally ready to soar – finally soaring – to
    the Source of the I Am that I am only in final and fearless

      1. PKP

        Aww Michelle – thank you for stopping and commenting and sending me off to bed with a “Wow!” so deeply appreciated and since I have little idea where these poems come from I’ll agree that I too liked that “loose limbed lovely lassitude” – lol

    1. PKP

      note: had a sudden rush of thought that perhaps anxiety and a sense of emptiness is perhaps the gateway and exit for the soul – a space within that is theoretically invisible and unfelt but that most do on occasion have a glimpse and shrink from in fear at the unimaginable magnitude of what cannot be understood in the here and now of this thing we call life – had an image of falling through and into this perceived emptiness into a full cacophonic onrush of blazing color of an ALL that we cannot possibly know in this present state. Hmmm who knew that anxiety could feel sooo good. 🙂

    2. pipersfancy

      My mouth thanks you for the delectable buffet of alliteration and consonance… tongue feasting upon exquisite sounds and impossible transitions between them… what a joy to read aloud! And, such a topic as this to try and capture in a poem… those intricate sound transitions simply reflecting the worm-holes of life. I’m loving your Some-time Universe!

  6. Mariya Koleva

    I read amazing poems yesterday. No time to leave comments to all I loved. I guess today will be the same. And here’s my attempt for Day 2


    The pretty toes I dreamt of having
    Of course I didn’t get them
    Cause you don’t get to choose your toes

    So, every time on the beach
    I’d keep my feet beneath the sand,
    Quite nonchalantly

    Nail polish just wouldn’t help
    Plus, that only works on nails.
    I’m speaking toes here

    The sand would feel more like dust
    So dirty and finely coarse at the same time
    They looked even more imperfect

    Then I surrendered
    Cause you simply don’t get any real choice
    In such matters,
    Any choice but the one you make
    Of how you see your toes.

    1. seingraham

      Being the possessor of fat chunky toes and feet myself, I feel your pain (my love says my feet are just part of my legs turned up at the end with nails painted on – kinda like an elephant’s … he means well) … but you said it best; we don’t get to choose, might as well surrender.

  7. Stuart Peacock

    Surrender to the Music

    Surrender to the sound
    The sounds that bring a tear to the eye
    Or pull our ears back in time.
    Give into the temptation
    To tap your trembling feet
    Or fingers to the beat.

    That irresistible, timeless rhythm,
    It controls our bodies still,
    Shaking our heads and limbs
    In unrestrained dance
    And moving our mouths
    Even if we don’t know all the words.

    Surrender to the feelings,
    The memories the music makes,
    The ecstasy we all share
    In a world where those sounds
    Can soothe even the saddest days,
    And bring our souls together.

  8. pipersfancy

    A Gilded Lamp Glows

    It’s 2am. The main floor guest bedroom is still lit
    by the small gilded lamp on the night stand. It casts
    a warm sensation across the room; my drowsiness,
    a heavy quilt, her face bathed in golden hues.

    Lines of pain, illness erased and made smooth,
    weeks of waiting, indecision, a slow disappearance
    as a body succumbs, but now comforted in this one
    gentle moment, and she is made full in this place.

    I remember when she found the lamp, a treasure
    rediscovered in the back room of an antique shop,
    brought home and cleaned till the patina glowed with
    love from every hand that caressed its bronze base.

    She’ll close her eyes. Sleep may come in darkness—
    but, she’s not quite ready to surrender to the night.
    —Christina Perry

  9. J.lynn Sheridan

    I wish this wasn’t happening

    I once stood at the top of Mount Blanca—
    a Colorado Goliath. Strong. Shadow barren.
    Bubbling in gray and white granite, stretching far
    above the tree-lined sea of golds and sugar-blue columbine.
    A person can feel in control on a mountain that needs only
    to whisper to the sky to be heard.

    We had climbed the morning beams of sun,
    a summer passion that ended as a spring firestorm.
    We tucked our heads and ducked beneath the swift lightning,
    the rustling of clouds, the vodka rain,

    and light-footed down the rock piles until we felt
    green beneath our tender feet, until we were once
    again small enough to surrender to the debris of today.

    1. Mariya Koleva

      I like the imagery of your poem, so rich and full. And your poem is so well written – how people feel great and powerful when they’re on top of the mountain and scale down to humbleness once they climb down. That’s exactly the feeling and the poem has reflected it quite precisely.

  10. writinglife16


    The preacher sang loud
    “Oh yes, I surrender all”
    His flock sang with him.
    His wife sang softly in front.
    “Yes you will –in divorce court.”

  11. Domino

    Surrender Dorothy

    Come, my pretty,
    you cannot think you will win,
    not faced with me,
    in all my beautiful

    Your friends
    and your little dog
    cannot save you now,
    I am stronger and
    far more powerful
    than you ever imagined.

    My castle,
    my magic,
    my soldiers
    my flying monkeys.
    All are arrayed against you,
    so just


  12. mapoet


    The fireworks are popping
    a little out of season
    but for good reason.
    They celebrate
    a goal achieved through
    determination, resilience
    and camaraderie.
    The pops continue
    as end of day turns
    into new morning.
    On any other night,
    we might resent
    a disturbance at
    such an hour.
    Tonight, we
    surrender to the noise.

  13. Alaina Dawson

    Confession #2

    a small dried tear streaks the my left cheek
    the right eye must have tried a little harder

    look straight ahead they told me
    and it will all be over soon
    i grip tight to the fresh white paper beneath me
    and clench my teeth in preparation

    what will it feel like once its over?
    what will i feel like once its over?
    do you even feel anything since its been over?

    a flash of white light interrupts my dismal thoughts
    another flash of white, a smile with all teeth
    shooing me out the door and into the cold

    the sky has just started to let the first snow of the year fall
    and i have just surrendered my last piece of you

  14. Anthony94


    The war wasn’t over, but it was the same
    as surrender. Drafted mid-year from the
    university, rice paddies and artillery shells
    that left him half deaf, driving the generals
    from compound to compound, shipping in
    shipping out, and getting her letter, then,
    the one where his Mom told him Shayla
    had gotten married. His Shayla, gone along
    with the napalmed forests, his buddies,
    his dreams of whatever it was he had
    dreamed before olive drab uniforms and
    MRE’s, the whump of choppers, the rest
    of what remained locked away, so that
    he came home, got a job, and buried
    himself away from all of it. After all, it
    had been merely an interruption on the
    old homeplace, the loss of a hand, no more.
    No GI bills would be cashed out, just back
    to bucking bales, chasing cows, hauling
    manure from the chicken house for the
    strawberry beds, the next season’s sweet
    corn. The war finally ended, before she
    came around, working in the diner with
    her girl, and then one day, hanging over
    the fence, until he knew another surrender
    that made love worth going over to the enemy.

  15. Jolly2

    by John Yeo

    Move or you lose, snapped the cool calm voice
    Of the insistent, determined, Grandmaster.
    You need to respond, you have no choice
    But to make your move and cooperate.
    Teeth gritted tightly, I stubbornly resist,
    The succinct sentences, tempting and brief.
    The point is open to a surprising twist.
    The game turns and proceeds, without relief.

    I sit, and show nothing that will communicate
    My plans with the endgame clearly in view.
    What is the outcome, if I were to deviate
    With an unexpected move to confound you?
    Gasping loudly in shock, you break the spell.
    This is a ploy you could never have expected.
    It goes against the moves you know so well.
    With your plans in disarray you look dejected.

    Unsure of a move that was made to dismember
    Your intricate, well thought-through plans.
    You lay down your King in abject surrender.
    Then leave without shaking hands.

    Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

  16. hohlwein

    Backwards Ocho

    Two tango lessons in
    and the lesson is – surrender.

    Feel, resist, surrender.
    This is easier

    when I shut my eyes
    and become, in myself

    one thing, not a swirl
    of impulses – darting, not a storm

    of sensations – uncollected, but a body,
    a female body

    directed, backwards
    offered moments

    to flourish – quickly –
    then surrender.

  17. Marie Therese Knepper

    On the hill of defeat
    I stood undefeated
    Banner raised waving
    Tattered threads debating victory’s winds

    I stood and watched
    Over my kingdom of nothing
    Some thing was brewing
    As it should be

    I will not fall
    Down on my knees
    King Summit demands
    My submission

    Not today.
    My blockaded roots
    Stoned in arrogance.

  18. taylor graham


    Just an ornament now; I haven’t used my dad’s desk fan in years. The cord’s shot, a frayed sheath over ancient electric wire. The motor still works. Built sturdy as a bridge; small enough to lift in my hands, heavy to hold the desk down in a storm. It lacks a screen to shield children’s fingers from the circling blades; I was raised on cautionary tales. Whirl of 4 rotating vanes, countered by back & forth oscillation of the head – it might suck me in. On a sultry day, those mysterious arcs could blow away the blues. No modern substitute. Shall I toss it? With a new cord, it could make a comeback. Give it to Goodwill, help someone else remember a black wind passing through office space gone stale.

    here’s inspiration,
    vibrations on still air –
    a buzzard’s high circles

  19. Rob Winters

    Here are some dueling triolets — with interchangeable parts!

    One from Column A:

    Surrender, but do not give in
    There is a difference, you know
    A little slap won’t break the skin
    Surrender, but do not give in
    Your pride will take one on the chin
    But nothing that, in time, will show
    Surrender, but do not give in
    There is a difference, you know

    … and one from Column B

    Surrender, but do not give in
    There is a difference, you know
    Don’t fight a battle you can’t win
    Surrender, but do not give in
    If you can stop the war within
    You are the victor, even so
    Surrender, but do not give in
    There is a difference, you know

    — Rob Winters

    1. Rob Winters

      Column C (or “okay, I’ll stop now, … seriously, … probably.)

      Surrender, but do not give in
      There is a difference, you know
      Draw strength from all the flaws within
      Surrender, but do not give in
      No virtue found without its sin
      No target struck by aiming low
      Surrender, but do not give in
      There is a difference, you know

      — Rob Winters

  20. DanielR

    Like soldiers at Gettysburg
    the autumn leaves fought falling
    they clung to their splendor
    straining to remain tethered
    to branches that drooped
    with their weight
    inspiring determination
    but in due time they surrendered
    to the wind and I lost them forever.

    Daniel Roessler

  21. barbara_y


    Lacking the courage
    to face having failed a blind past,
    an imaginary future;

    wrapped in shreds of fantasy
    like mothy flags, my dreams
    will not surrender, take

    the punishment they’ve earned,
    and start new with nothing. No.
    All history replays in me,

    I fight one- sided wars
    forever snipe from hills of past
    indignities. I grimly poison

    my own wells
    and call myself steadfast.

  22. JWLaviguer

    Sir Ender

    He came over the hill
    the sun behind him
    dragging his ass behind him
    his son draped over
    that beast of burden
    the battle is won
    but the war is lost
    and he hangs up his shield
    for the last time.

    JW Laviguer

  23. Buddah Moskowitz


    to the rhythm
    of your beating heart.

    Do not do.
    Do not act.
    Do not react.

    Just be,
    and surrender
    to whatever
    fate or God or luck
    may bring you.

    Our misery is caused
    by fighting that which is
    bigger than all our
    wishes and dreams,

    stop fighting.

    to the sweetness of sunrise,

    to the soothing random song
    of the birds outside,

    to the warmth of the sun,

    because you
    didn’t cause these,

    because they are
    what you need.

  24. Jean Kay


    Young, sturdy, large-leaf Maple
    whose leaves are turning gold,
    you stand tall and stately
    dwarfed by Cottonwoods—very old.

    Soon you will surrender
    to Autumn winds that blow,
    but, for now, I do appreciate
    your rust and golden glow.

    Some leaves hold on a long time,
    others surrender and fall.
    I hope winds stay away awhile
    so I can enjoy it all.

  25. Janet Rice Carnahan

    Two Shadorma Poems


    It is love
    Sitting silently
    Just in awe
    Of the sea
    Feeling the soul ebb and flow
    Harmony at last


    I watch you
    Struggling to know
    What I say
    With your thoughts
    A mutual surrender
    Always gets us there

  26. deringer1


    I shall not fight the wrinkles,
    nor the age spots, nor the pains.
    I’ll sit and wait for sunshine,
    ‘cause it hurts me when it rains.

    When friends say I look good, I smile
    for they mean well, I know.
    But the mirror shows me someone else
    with hair as white as snow.

    Oh well, the clock will not turn back;
    my youth will not return.
    But I have gained some wisdom, so
    I’m sure somehow I’ll learn

    to just surrender to what is,
    not wish for what can’t be.
    I’ll entertain my memories
    and offer tea to me

  27. Shennon

    On a sultry summer day
    in Nebraska
    I surrender myself
    to humidity
    as streams of sweat
    run races
    across my skin.

    Intense sun
    bakes my body
    while I sunbathe
    in the back
    of your silver
    extended cab
    pickup truck.


  28. Valkyri


    pretty little teen
    their rough hands
    calloused and dirty
    closed clenched fists
    pummel and pound
    then sweating close
    smell their stink
    slam into me
    paw at me
    vicious and brutal
    forest cloaking screams
    pine needles prickling
    bound bruised swollen
    their laughter thick
    jab cruel taunts
    surveying bloody conquest
    I merely surrender

  29. Ann M


    on the island
    your sister lost her mind
    but the grapes are trampled in
    and sea is blue.

    instead, you chose the city
    where you prepare
    every meal
    his shirts on the rooftop
    mop the balcony
    and buy melons from
    the cart
    in the street below

    and afterwards
    in the room by the kitchen
    without window
    or air
    you fall to your knees
    and pray
    the scrubbed clean floor.

    in the square
    by the standing tanks
    the men cross their legs
    and wait for time
    to pass
    while you have surrendered
    to what will come.

    some nights
    you pray all night.

    did you know
    your tyropita and walnut cake
    will be on our tongues always
    and your raw hands
    will be forever praised?

    we admire you.
    we fear for you.
    we love you.

    if only we had told you sooner.

  30. Nancy J


    In the chill autumn dawn something shiny
    catches your eye, a jagged object in the sand.

    You lift it gently, cradling it with others
    in the palm of your hand.

    You bring them close, inhale their essence as if
    your very breath could resurrect the whole.

    Unable to step over or around, you arrange
    the barely identifiable with the precious,

    enshrined in poignant displays along your path,
    a mourning walk with no destination in sight.

    But, shards hold no hope. If you are to survive,
    you must strike a new path.

    Extend your view beyond the wreckage
    strewn over the landscape.

    Lift your eyes beyond the star that bore
    your fondest wish.

    Surrender the bits and pieces
    and resurrect your self.

    1. shethra77

      Love this, but especially
      “you arrange
      the barely identifiable with the precious,

      enshrined in poignant displays along your path,
      a mourning walk with no destination in sight.”
      “Lift your eyes beyond the star that bore
      your fondest wish.”

  31. Misky

    Under a Mother’s Touch

    We surrendered to Mother’s touch,
    and her attempts to endeavour us
    into clean. She spit on hankies and

    wiped dirt from our faces, wrestled
    our cowlicks with a drench under
    the tap, and then violently tussled
    our heads about ’til our hair fell flat.

    Our clothes were either too small
    or too large, and rarely covered
    the scrapes and scabs on our knees,

    and as she rendered her spit deep
    into our skin, we reminded her
    that we had ample spit of our own.

    (c) Misky 2015

  32. Earl Parsons

    Soul Survival

    But a second in terms of eternity
    Is our time spent clothed in flesh
    A tick of God’s eternal time clock
    A heartbeat of the souls everlasting
    For the soul never dies

    We mortals have but one power
    The power to choose lies with us
    Each choice comes with consequences
    Right or wrong, good or bad, it’s on us
    Choose wisely, my friend

    Eternities wait on the left and right
    Which way it goes is our decision
    Do we surrender to our Creator’s yearnings
    Or give in to the temptations of Lucifer
    Eternity in the balance

    © 2015 Earl Parsons

  33. Acronim

    Done making new one, and will also be posted in my blog –> http://bit.ly/1ixOvwG
    It took me to complete this in two and a half-hour. But glad I did a new one.

    Just Give It Up and Let It Go

    I’m lost to where I should go
    Confusing, but it seems so
    Why didn’t I know?
    What should I show?
    For gods to see my rainbow.

    For a long time I am mad
    Alongside of being sad
    When did it start?
    Where should I part?
    Regarding my work of art.

    I know life isn’t simple
    Hardships makes us a cripple
    How will I stand?
    How will I land?
    To keep a dream in my hand.

    This is really frustrating
    Maybe I should stop thinking
    Of what to take
    Or when to break
    Better rest and have a cake.

    So this is now my resolve
    A way for me to evolve
    I shall work and smile
    Will laugh even I cry
    Get up if I fall down
    Unless its a lawn I can roll on.

    At this point, stanza’s are getting crazy
    I struggle how to make new poem baby
    I gave up in perfecting it
    Just write how I feel like it
    Doesn’t matter anymore if I’m getting lazy.

  34. JanetRuth

    Surrender’s Source

    Temporal and eternal vie
    Everything born is doomed to die
    Soon morn surrenders to the air
    Its virgin verve; hope, heartache, prayer
    Veiled in an invisible tide
    That sweeps the sprawling countryside

    …in slow surrender to the stars
    Where sometimes sudden silence jars
    The inept reaches of the mind
    Kindness and cruelty entwined
    For everything that has a breath
    Is on a one-way course to death

    …and nothing can evade the clutch
    Of Providence’s final touch
    Hence, Youth and Truth and Wisdom vie
    For everything with life will die
    Save that which is not bound by force
    The soul; it returns to Life’s source

  35. ReathaThomasOakley

    Genesis questions

    Did Eve, I wonder, crouched
    in some secret garden spot,
    watch, listen, hear
    Adam justify his
    surrender to temptation?

    Could this be, she wondered,
    the selfsame Adam who
    lustily shared the fruit,
    licked the juice from her lips,
    knew full-well the consequence
    of his actions?

    No talk of beguiling then.

    1. pipersfancy

      This is the sort of discussion that could bring people back into the churches… Very insightful and well-written. I especially loved the second stanza, the description of Adam lustily sharing the fruit – licking the juice from Eve’s lips… brilliant!

  36. Jezzie


    Wag, wag, wag. I did it.
    I must capitulate.
    I chewed up my blanket
    and it’s now in a state.

    Wag, wag, wag. I regret.
    I do apologise.
    I ripped up your carpet.
    It’s now a smaller size.

    Wag, wag, wag. I’m contrite.
    I am pleading with you.
    I wrecked your new basket
    I just needed to chew.

    Wag, wag, wag. I admit.
    I did chase that poor frog.
    I’m sorry I killed it.
    I’ve been such a bad dog.

    Wag, wag, wag. I beg you
    please forgive, do not chide.
    I’ll surrender your shoe,
    the one that I did hide.

    I regret I did it.
    I’m contrite I admit.
    See how with ev’ry wag
    I’m waving the white flag.

    Read more of my Doggie Ditties at <https://jezabelmyschka.wordpress.com/

  37. Bushkill

    Day 2: write a surrender poem

    I jockey with others for position
    Like slot cars
    Under the malevolent eye of a mischievous child.

    I unpack after searching, finding a spot
    While the pack
    Hunts for spots of their own.

    I carry my array of items, tangible and not so both
    Over the dune
    Where the rising sun greets me with open arms.

    My cares arc skyward with gossamer-like tether
    To plunge beneath the waves
    And come to rest in Neptune’s lair.

    Exhaling, purging, my mind, my body, my soul
    While salt air bathes, the sun kisses and
    My shoulders surrender the tensions of the world.

      1. Jodie-Jo

        Its scrappy but it kind of made me smile because it refused to surrender to my requests and I had to surrender to its refusal. So i wrote about that and won. -ish!

  38. Acronim

    One Last Wish
    Written June 16, 2006

    All I want now is a moment with you
    One last time in keeping my dreams that’s few
    Closing part of my feelings that outgrew
    My one last chance to show my love for you.

    A day and a night spending my one wish
    Where sun and stars’ light in sky will unleash
    Our memories will not be abolish
    Yet will stay behind far out of reach.

    There I will memorize your only face
    Savor every minute without a haste
    Hear the beat of your heart I’d always chase
    As my hope to have you are beyond gaze.

    Just your arms around me as you can be
    Cradling me beyond my dreams that is free
    Feeling your love whose far from what I see
    Just what I want is your arms around me.

    This is my one last wish before you go
    Same as my dream I want you to do so
    Just this one wish, I’ll give you to my foe
    Fulfilled my last wish then I’ll let you go.

  39. Benjamin Thomas


    I surrender unconditionally;

    to the page that binds me,

    to the words that find me

    smitten and drawn.

    I utterly confess;

    that I’m a poet

    emotionally undressed,

    and susceptible to muse.

    Benjamin Thomas

  40. PressOn


    How high it hangs up there,
    communing with the air;
    the last deciduous flare

    resists the call to fall
    until a hoary squall
    suspends the autumn’s thrall

    and bids the land surrender to the snow.

    1. pipersfancy

      Oh – I really like this! I have an old Silver Maple in my backyard, planted by my dad and I over 40 years ago. It truly is the last hold-out against winter… always the last tree in the neighbourhood to surrender its leaves.


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