2015 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 28

Whew! The final three days! Where has this month gone?

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “It Was a (blank) and (blank) Night,” replace the blanks with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “It Was a Dark and Stormy Night,” “It Was a Bright and Sunny Night,” “It Was a Calm and Lonely Night,” “It Was a Long and Poetic Night,” “It Was a Short and Sweet Night,” and so on and so forth.


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 an It Was a Blank and Blank Night poem:

“It Was a Cold and Foggy Night”

When Marcus approached the Carter House
with a sense of eerie dread, he knew something
wasn’t right; he felt like he was losing his head,
but something–anything–just had to be done
in case he could save Jesse or find out what
had become of his former amigo (his former
musketeer). He had to do something, even if
he felt like a hunted deer. So here he was

outside the Carter House, waiting for a sign
or moment to approach. And then, he saw
for the very first time, a giant bat swoop
through the fog as if swung from a vine and
into the window on the very top floor and
as the bat entered, Marcus saw it change form.


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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114 thoughts on “2015 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 28

  1. tobysgirl

    It Was A Sad and Stormy Night

    It was a stormy and sad night,
    the night of the day you were buried.
    They all said that it was you driving a sports car around in heaven.
    I said it too.
    The drama was all very romantic then.
    Now, I equate that night more to the heartache your parents must have felt.
    You didn’t deserve a sports car in Heaven.
    You did nothing to earn it.
    You drank, you drove, and you died.
    And you took one of my best friends with you.
    No, you deserved to walk in Heaven.
    No driving, no wings to fly.
    I hope that night,
    as the thunder crashed and the lightning flashed,
    I hope God was giving you a huge tongue lashing for ruining your life and everyone else’s.
    That’s how I view that sad and stormy night.

  2. Alaina Dawson

    It was a Peanut Butter & Jelly Night

    some people have friday night date nights
    or religiously go to yoga every saturday after brunch
    and of course church is always a favorite for the early risers on sunday
    we skipped all of these traditions
    but i can’t ever think of a monday night that we didn’t have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner, cutting on the diagonal, laughing like school kids at recess who had a secret they could only tell each
    you left on a monday morning, so that night i went to bed without eating dinner
    because i can’t experience a monday night or a eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without crying
    i guess thats my new tradition

  3. Misky

    It Was A Chorizo and Gristle Night

    Barcelona steeped in a hot brew,
    a chewy sort of atmosphere, and
    you said you couldn’t think straight
    when the air was thick as paprika.
    The heat ploughed us under, and
    then turned us over; we were too
    hot by definition. We rendered like
    fat into a slick, and rained down
    on that night like a howling child.
    The memory still makes me sweat.

  4. PSC in CT

    It Was a Bright and Moonlit Night

    gone now,
    La Lune, lady of the night,
    but she visited in the wee hours –
    splashed across the bed
    in all her naked luminescence
    and I lay beneath her,
    awake and

  5. deringer1


    It was a holiday celebration.
    “Let’s sneak out and
    go for a walk”, he said.

    The night was clear and crisply cool,
    stars and moon lit our way
    as we strolled arm in arm.

    I did not know why—
    why he wanted to be with me
    just then. Perhaps it was

    that our lives would soon change,
    both of us leaving home for
    an uncertain future.

    Enchanting! The air so still,
    our breath making clouds of
    emotions without words.

    Beneath the orchard trees
    we stood, barely daring to speak
    and shatter the magic moment.

    A long ago night, but living on
    in my precious store of memories.
    A dream that never came true.

  6. Pat Walsh

    It Was a Still and Starry Night
    by Patrick J. Walsh

    it was nearly three
    when they passed over
    into the northern states
    the sky along the dark road
    a silent carnival lit by
    moon and stars

    he glanced over at her
    as she slept quietly
    in the passenger seat
    her head just barely touching
    the cold glass
    of the window

    the sameness of the miles
    passing beneath them
    made him more aware
    of the stillness of the night
    and the peace it brought
    amid the darkness

  7. Shennon

    It was a Loud and Fearful Night

    Outside the hospital
    were fireworks,
    across the night sky.

    All my uncle
    heard were
    bombs and mortar shells
    reminiscent of the war.

    His hallucinations
    worsened with each
    crawling hour.
    I feared the end was near.

    He feared for
    the life he
    fought to protect
    so many years ago.


  8. pwiddess

    In defence of Edward Bulwer-Lytton

    It was a dark and stormy night
    was not thought a very bright
    way to start an epic work
    penned by some pretentious jerk.
    Poor Bulwer-Lytton, that one line
    saw his name thrown to swine.
    It’s easy now to forget
    that we’re all still in his debt.
    His hand coined the almighty dollar
    and we still adore its power.
    It was he who made the unwashed great
    Schulz’s mocking was an unjust fate.
    So heed this genius as you write
    and your pen will grow in might.

    1. ppfautsch24

      A Silent and Turbulent Night
      It was a silent and turbulent night;
      I was too tired to fight, but didn’t want
      to give up.
      To let the tears fall and to hear you breathe
      from the other side of the wall.
      “Quiet Storm” music plays in the background;
      our hedonistic hearts beat rapidly, heard by our ears and His too.
      It was a silent and turbulent night;
      you wanting me, yet not knowing how
      to communicate; except by a touch
      at the small of my back with an earnest
      combustion look in your eyes asking me
      to see you.
      It was a silent and turbulent night;
      your quest coming to an end as you
      quietly say goodnight on the other side
      of the wall.
      By Pamelap

  9. Valkyri

    It was a monsters and teddybears kind of night

    endless ocean of quiet blackness
    spooky calm inside this room
    the things number in the hundreds
    strange scoffing creatures under the bed
    they hunker down in hushed silence
    hear them chuckle and rave
    in their growly gruff voices
    they snatch and grab with wrinkled nails
    to gobble toes and munch on guts
    to drag her into the distant dark
    the scared innocent is trapped
    threatened by demons and devils alike
    quivering under her heavy quilts
    atop the squeaky creaking mattress
    she proves her power every night
    weak and fearful she relies upon
    the square circle of teddybears
    carefully placed with no gaps between
    her special plush guardians defend her
    their good sweet softness wards off
    all hidden nasty fiends and gnarly beasts

  10. MichelleMcEwen

    It was a Dark and Muggy Night

    the kind
    where the mosquitoes bite

    and the porch light
    was bright

    and my top
    was tight

    and my skirt
    was high

    and so was I.

  11. Domino

    It was a Weird and Silly Night

    At an Air-Force base in eighty-four, my husband on deployment.
    I must admit it, I was bored, and looking for enjoyment.
    I’d read all the books that I had, and my brains were mostly fried.
    So I went to the rec-center to see what it could provide.
    It wasn’t much to look at, though, and I wasn’t in the mood
    for ping-pong, tai-chi classes or the snack bar, so I was screwed.
    But then I noticed, in a corner at a table to themselves,
    some guys all playing D&D: rogues, fighters, clerics, and elves.
    I wanted to approach them then, but I was too darn shy,
    So I watched them on and off, and tried to catch someone’s eye.
    Finally, one of them looked up and said, “Can I help you, ma’am?
    I blurted out, “Can I play too?” I thought he’d tell me to scram.
    But he didn’t, he just grinned at me, a big shit-eating grin.
    And his friends all smiled too, skooched over and welcomed me in.
    Some of the best times I ever had were with these silly guys.
    The games were the kind nobody wins, and friendship was the prize.

    1. Pattili

      Oh boy! Major computer issues- this submitted on its own! I wish. I knew how to delete!! Here is the poem:
      It Was a Lonely and Melancholy Night

      Sitting in the window
      bathed in full moon light-
      she gazes wistfully at the wishing star…
      Once upon lifetimes ago
      she felt young
      Her soul was on fire
      for the things and people
      she knew
      and was alive
      with every sense of her being ~
      She was alive
      with hopes and dreams
      And a sense of being
      that she can’t even
      fragmentally fathom now
      Her heart aches
      for the things, experiences and people
      she knew
      that the years have robbed her of –
      silently stolen piece by peace .
      She grieves for that girl-
      was it really her?
      A sense of loneliness
      settles around her shoulders –
      she wears that feeling often these days …
      And gazes up at the wishing star-
      Her only link to that girl
      she will never be again

  12. bethwk

    It Was a Vast and Inescapable Night

    It was a vast and inescapable night.
    The ghost in the attic had called his benediction
    down the stairs–“Get out of here!” he’d said
    as cheerily as usual, which is to say, not a whit.

    The Night Mare whinnied in my ear,
    “I have a nice little gallop planned for you tonight.”
    She promised me she’d take it slow to start,
    and show me deeper pools than usual.
    I’d learn new meanings of my name.

    The man was weeping when I shot in the head
    although he knew, like me, what was required.
    It was myself I shot, of course, so loss and fear
    and grief compounded with the guilt I felt,
    the trembling gun still steaming in my hand,
    and a body waiting for discreet disposal.

    “I have done this work before,” I told my shadow steed,
    “The murder. Culpability. The hiding of the body.
    But in past dreams I was the victim, not the agent.”
    Last time, my life was vastly changed.

    I wish I could say that the sun sprang forth
    into morning with a hearty shout,
    that I leaped out of my bed,
    my new name burning in the air above me.

    But days have passed and the curmudgeonly ghost
    still treats me more rudely than I deserve.
    My Shadow Mare has left me to wander
    the dream meadows darkly and in silence.

    I wear my new name around my neck
    in a small leather pouch.
    I have yet to check it, to see it,
    to listen for its colors in the bright day.

  13. Kendall A. Bell

    It was a Law and Order night

    but mostly SVU, a marathon of episodes on
    ION, but that was after waiting impatiently
    to find out what sickness has held me prisoner
    all week, at a place called Patient First. It
    was after having cheesesteak pizza slices at
    Tony’s. It was after another coughing fit,
    yet another glass of water. It was after we
    settled in on the sofa, the dog cocooned between
    us. We watched Stabler punch another cop, watched
    Benson get stabbed, saw Novak lock up another
    criminal, while I swallowed antibiotics, while
    my chest felt heavy, while I watched the tree’s
    lights flickering between color and white.

  14. Walt Wojtanik


    The forecast called for lots of snow
    and that’s how I begin this show,
    these conditions make the reindeer go,
    things are right for a Christmas Eve flight!

    And no matter where we go tonight,
    we’ll be guided by moonlight
    flying to the highest height
    while the children are asleep.

    As the flakes fall fine and deep,
    piling in a frosted heap,
    our team is quite prepare to leap,
    into the blustery sky.

    Every year with Christmas nigh,
    all around the world we’ll fly,
    eight small reindeer and this guy,
    a happy, jolly Santa Claus.

    Once a year we take this pause,
    through this evening for our cause,
    Jingle bells and reindeer paws
    on this fine and blustery night!

  15. cbwentworth

    I. It Was a Cold and Silent Night

    moonlit snowdrifts
    sparkle in silence
    the stars answer

    II. It Was a Long and Sleepless Night

    counting cars
    as they pass
    alone at midnight

    moonlight stripes
    paint the wall
    still awake at three

    nothing to do
    but count each breath
    eyes won’t close

  16. elishevasmom

    It Was a Soothing and Tranquil Night

    …that had followed a peculiar,
    curious day. Even though the
    full moon had set just before

    dawn, the day broke cold and
    dark—sullen even—like it would
    need to suck the life force out

    of all living beings, just to bring
    light to the day. Going about
    daily tasks was made especially

    difficult by this ominous weight
    pressing down on all. Thinking
    happy thoughts was difficult

    enough without actually trying
    to follow through with them.
    Yet, the better nature of

    people showed through, and
    suddenly, that last smile tipped
    the scales toward the side of

    favor. The sun set in skies of
    flaming crimson, vermilion and
    bittersweet. Then the evening

    settled itself down, smelling
    of snow brought in on the
    North wind. Within just a few

    hours, the aforementioned snow
    began falling gently, smoothly
    swirling, soothing the tranquil night.

    Copyright © Ellen Evans – 2015
    day 149 of 365
    day 28 PAD 11.15 a “it was a _____and ______night” poem

  17. tunesmiff

    G. Smith (BMI)
    It was a bright and quiet night
    With only moon and stars,
    Shepherds watched their flocks in fields,
    When greeted by angelic choirs.

    “Do not fear,
    We have good news
    That will bring great joy
    For all of you.

    “In Bethlehem,
    A Savior is born,
    The Messiah, the Lord.,
    This very morn.”

    It was a bright and quiet night
    With only moon and stars,
    Shepherds watched their flocks in fields,
    When greeted by angelic choirs

    “This will be a sign to you:
    A Baby in a manger;
    The very Son of the living God
    Greeted as a Stranger.”

    It was a bright
    And quiet night
    With only moon and stars,
    Shepherds watched their flocks in fields,
    When greeted by angelic choiras

    “Let us go and see this thing
    Let go and worship the King.
    Let us go to Bethlehem,
    Let us go to Bethlehem.”

    It was a bright and quiet night
    With only moon and stars.

  18. SarahLeaSales

    It was a Hot and Heavy Night

    It was a hot and heavy night,
    that August in Pensacola
    I walked out to my car,
    the Hershey’s milk bar becoming
    putty in my hand,
    my adrenal glands working overtime
    while I no longer have to.

    The brightness and cold of the store
    always gave me a headache.
    My hands tingle with the thaw,
    and I feel a certain sort of
    exhilaration and joy.
    The night is heavy with humidity,
    but I’m as light as warm air rising
    above a cooling cake.

    Drug pushers in the back,
    candy pushers up front—
    that is work life at Walgreens.
    No longer do I have to smell the smelly,
    nor see the hairy underbelly
    of Pensacola society,
    jiggling in and out,
    or running with scissors,
    or whatever else they can stuff in their pants.

    No more saying, “Be well,” to every customer,
    even if they’re just getting a pack of cigs.
    No more walking into the restroom,
    finding used pregnancy tests
    on the filthy floor,
    or profiling Sudafed users,
    or just plain winos.

    No more working with nutjobs
    who punch out the eyes of managers
    in pictures hanging in the office hall
    with a ballpoint pen.
    No more threats on my life
    via telephone.
    The creep show must go on,
    but I no longer have to be there.

    I am no longer a Wag hag
    sans the Wag swag.
    I feel free as an eagle,
    for I just quit this drag,
    without even having to say a word.

  19. Sara McNulty

    It Was a Blazing and Bluesy Night

    One sultry summer night
    he took her
    to a quiet club

    Glow of candles
    resting on wooden tables
    filled the room with intimacy

    They toasted each other
    with scotches, neat
    fire blazing in their eyes

    Trio of bluesmen
    began to wail
    under indigo spotlit stage

    They leaned toward each other
    lips pressing
    in a long awaited kiss

    Flushed with arousal
    they left to fulfill desires
    on a sultry summer night

  20. Stuart Peacock

    It Was a Long and Barren Night

    He sat alone at home
    As he so often did.
    Nowhere to go, nor to do
    Or at least, he thought so.
    That’s what his cynical mind
    Had chosen to believe.

    He was blind to it all,
    The pile of books to read
    The one he could write himself
    The blank canvas before him
    Bursting with possibilities
    And dripping with time to fill.

    The things he could create
    Or simply even consume
    That film he’d never seen
    The songs he hadn’t heard
    A night to rediscover
    The richness of our world.

    Boredom can only conquer us
    If we let its dreary clouds
    Rain down on our heads
    He could simply block it out
    By silencing the pessimism
    If only he had the desire.

  21. lsteadly

    It Was a Scared and Broken Night

    I try to focus on the positive
    while pacing in the hospital room
    you could talk and see and move
    your toes and breathe, though not easily
    my heart tripped up unsure how to beat
    through the fear or push through the pain
    trapped under the weight of knowing I can’t
    fix this broken you
    your back crushed by an unrehearsed
    urge to fly ever so briefly

    If given the chance to do it over again
    would that back flip now be an Iron Cross or an Indy
    a trick more like a dance step with no chance
    of glancing your world upside down, inverting
    diverting the path you would take?

    That night we took turns praying next to your bed
    morphine silently kissing your broken vertebrae
    while my fear raged on in the dark

  22. Janet Rice Carnahan


    In the sixties, we were free,
    To love, to express, to experiment.
    To be ourselves naturally,
    Determining for us what life meant.

    You were the first to touch my heart,
    As we began to explore intimacy.
    Gravitating together from the start,
    Our union seemed complete and easy.

    Moments were pure, genuine and sweet,
    Like a young child’s first day at the beach.
    We suddenly knew love in a heartbeat,
    A real feeling we knew we’d reach.

    Remaining friends today, almost fifty years ago,
    Still sharing memories, makes me smile and glow!

      1. Janet Rice Carnahan

        Thank you, William, for your continued kind and thoughtful comments. You are always an inspiration. This month proved problematic to do any further reading or posting. Still when I see your encouraging words, I am so grateful. Enjoy your holidays and, of course, write on!

    1. Fanny Pad

      very nice reminder

      It was a lovely time to be alive
      All night long we’d drink and jive
      We had no car to drive.

      One day we came home on the train
      carrying between us in the cold Christmas rain
      your disco amplifier, huge and heavy; we had to rest
      Crystal palace radio leaked in from the West
      End.. That was funny honey
      We hadn’t much money
      You’d made slides for the light show projected on the beige wall of the posh flat where the party was
      but the party giver was not too keen on that ‘cos
      the coloured glass paints ran down onto her plush carpet
      and then coming home we got wet

      and now I don’t have you any more
      But some good memories of what went before.

  23. Nancy Posey

    It was a dark and stormy night

    as all clichés fell into place:
    Professor Plum in the parlor
    with the candlestick,
    a black cat sauntering
    across my path,
    the butler wearing
    such a guilty look.

    We might have been wary,
    looking for signs,
    expecting the worst
    as atmosphere
    did its best to translate
    into mood,

    but you and I were both indoors,
    cider heating in the kettle,
    a big pot of soup
    perfuming the air,

    and with a blanket
    big enough for two,
    we sat in the glow of lamplight,
    a good book apiece,
    Billie Holiday singing
    the blues,
    thunder rumbling
    just outside the window
    and, my favorite cliché,
    all was right in the world.

  24. candy

    a dark and gloomy night

    it was a dark and gloomy night
    a night that didn’t feel quite right

    the moon was snoring, still in bed
    with cloudy blankets o’re his head

    the stars were nowhere to be found
    no giggling, no fooling round

    i couldn’t sleep it was so black
    i crept downstairs to find a snack

    the cat was curled up on my chair
    i took my plate back up the stairs

    climbed into bed with pen and pad
    to chronicle the night i’d had

    my mind went blank no single word
    flowed from my pen, this was absurd

    it seems my muse had left my side
    to snuggle with the moon, outside

    i was the only one awake
    with pen and pad, and tea and cake

    it was a dark and gloomy night
    a night i couldn’t even write

  25. PressOn


    We knew we could not make
    up for the old heartache,
    yet met for old times’ sake;

    we tried to put to bed
    our fears of hurt and dread
    and faced ourselves instead.

    It was a good way to end it.

  26. Jane Shlensky

    It was a clear and moonlit night,

    purple and slate edged
    and shimmering. Wisps of clouds
    veil the hugeness of that mirror
    in the sky, winking and dazzling,
    gilding the trees, the dew on shaggy
    grass, the stars like backup
    singers surrounding the headliner,
    a fox and kit walking down
    the gravel road as if they’re
    skating on reflected light.

    He lies on his back, looking
    straight into the heavens,
    arguing with the brazen beauty,
    shaming the showy moon
    for taking credit for a gold
    it doesn’t possess, except
    as blank slate for the sun’s
    signature. The moon is nothing
    but a lie, he thinks, seesawing
    with gravity to raise tides
    and human eyes. Nothing but
    a fickle, turning, tangle
    of possibility that the ordinary
    can be made wondrous,
    that a person who reflects
    a powerful light might still
    make meaning in the world.

  27. Jane Shlensky

    It was a Wet and Lumpy Night

    Roots and rocks poke into muscle,
    jab at aching bones, his sleeping bag
    a cold sponge for seeping rain.
    His scraped right arm and leg throb,
    his parachute ripped by tree limbs
    now a makeshift leaky tent.
    He knows how to survive the elements,
    but not the memories in solitude,
    lying alone and sleepless, voices
    and faces rising like fog. He picks
    one, closes his eyes, and tries again
    to relax into a dream of camping
    with his dad on hundreds of fishing
    trips that have collapsed into one.

    His dad surrounds the fire kindling
    to dry, splitting logs with a hatchet
    chip by chip. “Sorry,” he says,
    a husky whisper. “There’s no way
    to do this quietly. Sleep on.”
    The boy closes his eyes safe
    in the knowledge that he is safe
    and warmed by a benevolent father
    who loves him, a father
    he has rejected in so many ways,
    but who loves him still.
    He swallows sorrow, reaches across
    time and distance, takes his father
    in his arms, and holds him.
    “Father, forgive me, for I know
    and do it anyway. I just can’t
    help myself,” he thinks. Then
    he sleeps a wet and lumpy sleep.

  28. De Jackson

    It was a Stunned and Starry Night


    We erased our bars
    and inhaled the stars

    and your wish was granted
    (kingdom, phylum)

    and we were in the
    know like Vincent
                van Gogh.


  29. ReathaThomasOakley

    It was a long and lonely night

    As our ship neared Honolulu harbor
    the cell phone came alive, my brother’s
    number on the screen gave me the message
    before I heard him say, she’s gone, surgery
    was successful, she just didn’t wake up. Emotions,
    questions, guilt overwhelmed me, should we have
    flown back when I learned she fell, held her hand
    one last time, kissed her cheek, told her it would
    be alright, knowing she would have politely thanked
    me and wondered who I was. At Pearl Harbor I wept,
    for those lost, for my mother, for myself. Later, on the
    plane, when I couldn’t sit by Don, I cried softly so as not
    to disturb those sleeping around me. It was a very
    long and lonely night.

  30. Al

    “It was a rockets and gunfire night”

    huddled under the bunk bed
    flak jacket and helmet on
    rockets exploding everywhere
    suddenly I knew
    there’s no atheists in foxholes

  31. Connie Peters

    It Was a Long and Frustrating Night

    When we drove cross country,
    you’d insist that I keep you awake
    and I’d fall asleep and dream
    you were running off the road.

    I’d whack you in the ribs
    and you’d yell that it wasn’t
    you that was asleep.

    Or we’d pull over at a rest stop to doze
    and I’d wake up in the dark thinking
    I was driving and try to slam on the breaks.

    I’m glad we don’t do that anymore.

  32. taylor graham


    I made the mistake of not opening my
    drapes at bedtime. I shut out

    the full moon light, its imagination
    lovely-wild as creatures of all outdoors.

    My dreams grew upside-down,
    leaves rooted in cement.

    I dreamed
    those dreams were true.

    At 5:30 AM my dog saved me,
    pushing her cold nose

    against my face
    waking me to moonlight.

  33. Anthony94

    It Was a Wet and Icy night

    Ornamental grasses collapsed
    ottomans, the front trees beaded
    with icy droplets, the far fields a
    haze of white in the darkening.
    But more than the steady fall of

    rain bathing each orb, it was the
    crackle of a thousand stems
    settling with resignation under
    the burden. To where had the
    hawk gone to bed, the bluebirds

    from late afternoon, the juncos
    and occasional goldfinch? I slip
    outside to walk near the ancient
    cedar but all is sleeping silence.
    Night has fully fallen, and my

    shoulders catch the sleet as
    I skate the puddles beyond
    the barn’s sill. Lights halo on
    the porch, but the lowering
    skies are empty of the hundreds

    of chevrons of south wending geese
    that laced the clouds at dusk. A
    branch of crape myrtle rubs at
    sheet metal to remind me not twenty
    feet from the door, I am the outlier.

  34. Al

    “It Was A Party With Friends Night”

    It was a party with friends night.
    Will I be the same at twilight,
    for what the drink may make me do?
    Or will I feel quite sad and blue,

    because my inner peace has fled
    and there is pounding in my head?
    So I refuse another beer
    and walk away from all the cheer.

  35. Jolly2

    by John Yeo

    The block was a surreal concrete kingdom of light,
    The window lights went out slowly one-by-one.
    The moon shone brightly in a cloudless sky
    Set in carpet of a million twinkling bright stars.

    The breathtaking beauty of a stunning delight,
    Shading the graffiti-covered, sheer concrete walls.
    Several shrill sirens sounded, in the nearby distance,
    Breaking the spell of this beautiful magical sight.

    Hiding in the shadows the creatures of the night,
    Slowly and surely began to emerge from hiding.
    A metal container suddenly crashed to the ground,
    As a feral cat searched for discarded food scraps.

    The moonlight and starlight mingled magically
    Creating a carpet of light high on the rooftops.
    In the shadows below a shrill woman’s voice
    Started screaming, echoing around the block.

    Shouting and screaming as a row developed.
    The sad sounds of a Saturday night in the city.
    Obliviously continuing with a viral intensity.
    Shattering the silence and breaking the spell

    Of a sublime, sensual, starry, moonlit night.

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

  36. uvr

    It Was A Stormy And Cathartic Night

    I lie in my lonely bed
    as the torment within
    is reflected without 
    The sky weeps in torrents
    for the tears I cannot shed
    The thunder roars in rage
    showing the anger I repress
    The lightning is a silver streak 
    illuminating the darkness in my mind 
    The wind howls against the window
    voicing the anguish that I hide
    The fury spent, the storm abates
    leaving me drained
    I close my eyes and surrender 
    to the soothing embrace of sleep
    Tomorrow there will be blue skies
    and the sun will shine on me

  37. annell

    Mid Afternoon was a Dark and Stormy Night

    the night in question      happened in the city      mid afternoon

    i was surprised      by your ambush      didn’t know

    that the war had begun    a terrorist lay in wait     the element of surprise

    always a good tactic      the clouds gathered      rain fell

    there was no going back      bombs exploded around me      looking back

    all is silent      i wonder      was there something

    i could have done     it was as if       i had no part to play

    what happened happened      my lips were sealed     the day lingers in my memory

    November 28, 2015

  38. Sally Jadlow

    It was a Grey and Rainy Day


    the day after the day after Thanksgiving,
    the year of 2015.
    The hydrangea bush with its blossoms
    stood stooped, brown, under icicles.
    The wind chime, mute, frozen together
    on the wooden patio archway.
    Squirrels disappeared into their nests—
    refrained from gathering nuts.
    Remaining birds silenced their songs,
    huddled in pine trees.
    The fountain, full from gushing skies
    shivered under a thin coat of ice.
    Winter descended with grim reality,
    mashing the memory of a warm fall
    on the Kansas landscape.

  39. RJ Clarken

    It was a Cork and Tormé Night

    I poured myself a glass of wine.
    It was a Pinot Gris. Divine.
    While Fly Me to the Moon played low,
    I felt my mood go indigo.
    I took a sip and hummed along
    as velvet fog met classic song.
    The wine gave me a pleasant glow.
    I felt my mood go indigo.
    Then, Just in Time, and Sleeping Bee.
    He crooned those tunes for only me.
    It’s just a fantasy, you know.
    I felt my mood go indigo.
    Don’t get around much anymore:
    the past is what the night lives for.
    I knew this time was just for show.
    I felt my mood go indigo.


  40. Linda Rhinehart Neas


    Far away for here, in a land unknown
    the mind struggles –
    What is reality?
    What is dream?

    The smells cue the brain –
    images of yesteryear
    chant in repeated patterns
    while the colors
    vibrate through follicles
    of fantasy.

    Alone, unable to find
    the balance of chronology or compass,
    we wander the airy avenues
    of coexistance, until –
    by some unknown grace –
    we lift the veil into


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