2016 April PAD Challenge: Day 8

I hope the poems are coming easy for you this month. I know from experience that some days are easier than others and that if I just show up I never know what will happen: good or bad.

For today’s prompt, write a doodle poem. In my mind, I’m thinking of how I like to doodle when I’m talking on the phone or sitting in a meeting. I used to doodle in my classes when I was younger. So for a poem, I’m thinking this could start off as something small that stays small or builds to epic proportions. Doodle around a bit today. If needed, start by describing something close at hand or within your current field of vision.

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Here’s my attempt at a Doodle Poem:

“I Don’t Know Why I Draw Birds”

But I do. And random skylines
that make little sense. Trees,

of course, without leaves
branching off into various

directions. Faceless people
and people with faces. Fish

swimming in the sky. Hills
covered in fire. Buildings

crumbling. Suns, moons,
and a hundred stars. But

always, somewhere, a bird.

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roberttwitterimageRobert Lee Brewer is not really an artist, but he loves doodling and is constantly amazed by the art created by his children. When he was younger, he loved making baskets with materials found in nature, in addition to batik.

Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community, which means he gets to do a million things to help writers find more success with their writing (including this blog). He’s also the author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53).

Connect with him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.

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395 thoughts on “2016 April PAD Challenge: Day 8

  1. PKP

    PAD. Day 8 – A Doodle Poem – “In the borders”

    In the borders

    There you are in the borders
    Within each heart intertwined
    A chain of unending memory
    Running toward me chubby
    Arms akimbo waiting
    For me to swoop you
    In my arms
    An endless loop
    of love …

  2. Connie Biltz

    Doodle Dee Doodle Dee Doodle Dee Dee

    I’m taking notes during the meeting,
    or so it would seem from afar,
    but really I’m sketching, drawing, doodling
    flowers, curlicues, and a random star.
    The speaker drones on and on
    about nothing of interest to me.
    My pen continues to dance on the paper
    creating kittens, birds, bullfrogs, and a bee.
    So bored. So bored. Oh mercy me.
    Will this ever end? Will they ever set us free?
    Doodle dee doodle dee doodle dee dee.

    Connie Biltz
    author of Rainbow Chaser

  3. Anvanya

    Northern Lands

    Are these mountain crests
    I see before my eyes?
    Interleaved, they are, with
    Forestry cross-hatched
    Clear-cut spaces.

    Snow crests shadows
    Starkly delineate trees
    And massifs floating
    Above the cloud masses
    Delivering showers to
    Lower valleys and arroyos.

    Clear-cuts frosted with
    Feet deep drifts reflect
    Spare sun rays at dawn.
    When skies turn dusky dark
    Lines of demarcation show
    Firred edges that
    Plummet like hunting hawks
    And fade into night.

    Gone, gone all save stark shapes
    Against rising stars
    For many hours. List, list, O list …
    Overburdened branches leak snow
    And a world of black and
    White is scrubbed colorless.

  4. Jezzie

    DOODLE-DIDDLE TIDDLE

    Doodle-diddle tiddle,
    Tickle-tum-tum:
    This is the language
    that I’ve learned from Mum.

    “Be a good girl,
    don’t do that,
    lie down nicely,
    don’t chew the mat”.

    “Do you want supper?
    Do you want brekkie?
    Do you want to go out?
    Do you want a bikkie?”

    My language is more simple:
    Growl, whine, woof, woof, woof.
    But you don’t understand
    and remain all aloof.

    Doodle-diddle tiddle.
    Tickle tum-tum.
    Rub my belly
    while I roll over, Mum.

  5. shellcook

    Doodle Bug

    I remember when doodling was fun.
    I used to draw crazy stuff when
    I was on the phone with the curly cord.
    But that curly cord was cut so long ago

    in a land of hope and promise
    and i could make any design with ‘BWF’
    on my notebook paper.
    I thought life was hard.

    What i needed was to know
    that someday the nightmare ends.
    Now it is called multitasking,
    and the show just keeps on going.

    Maybe i should doodle,
    if i can still remember how.

    4/8/16

  6. Alaina Dawson

    you find me among the paper
    spread across the kitchen table at 2am
    each one outlining a different plan

    you find me wide-eyed and caffeinated
    mapping out our future on white lined paper
    a different drawing for each scenario

    you find me awake, still awake
    a little laugh escapes your throat
    “it’s cute when you doodle”

  7. JenEfferVescent

    Like a bird in flight,
    gliding thru the air,
    Doodles flow to ready folks.
    A line here
    Some shading there,
    A squiggle and some gentle strokes,

    Doodles land
    wherever they may
    as they often do,
    with intensity,
    or subtlety,
    depending on who
    they come through.

    And as they find
    you sitting there
    with a preoccupied mind,
    they delight to
    squeeze on through and
    leave a piece of themselves behind.

  8. Sharon

    PENCIL PONDERING

    What is this thing that starts as a line,
    circles and scribbles, stretches and wiggles.
    Flights of fancy, roots of mystery divine,
    shaping images, with curious squiggles.

    The pencil ponderings of my mind,
    so tangled and bangeled on the sheet,
    now no sign of white on the page can you find.
    With my brain’s wanderings it is replete.

  9. Brian Slusher

    THE DOODLE SPEAKS

    Why am I marginalized?
    Curling in the corners of
    Your notes, crosshatching
    The boundaries of your
    Bigger thoughts—why am
    I not center-page? I manifest
    So much more of your
    True self, outlining
    The frontiers of your mind.
    When you’re stuck in a
    Cul-de-sac of uncertainty
    Or a bog of ennui
    I let your stylus vamp
    Rosettes and mandalas
    Of scribble until AH HA!
    So stop banishing me to
    Decorate the bench—give me
    The ball of your pen. Let me
    Run header to foot
    Filling the glaring void with
    Voluptuous loops of
    Unconscious art!

  10. carolecole66

    What If God Were Merely Doodling?

    Under my hand, disconnected from my brain,
    stars take shape, drawn then redrawn darker,
    the darkest stars against the blue-lined white
    page. My mind has drifted from the phone
    I hold in my left hand, lost track of the desultory
    conversation that fails to connect us. Then
    the spirals like small dark tornadoes spill
    across the page, lost in space, powerless
    to harm even the tiny house I draw beneath,
    a child’s version of home with its small peaked roof.
    Here is the storm under the distant, indifferent
    cosmos. Here is the house beckoning safety.
    The world spreads out on the notepad and I,
    a trifling God, promise nothing before I tire of talk..

  11. briehuling

    Day 8
    4/8/2016

    after I beg you to tell me the story of my life

    I draw a circle on a sheet of paper,
    a house, a little dog, a car
    and call it my family, even though
    you’re not there. The car is the place
    you told me you got screwed.
    The circle is a flying saucer that lifts
    me up into another galaxy far off
    and the invisible pilot in the saucer
    is a stranger who says he’s my dad,
    explaining everything, handing me a radio.

    By Brie Huling

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