2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 8

For today’s prompt, we’re on our second two-for-Tuesday prompt. So pick one, combine both prompts into one poem, or write two (or more) different poems. Here are the prompts:

  • Write a nothing will be the same poem. A poem about moment after which nothing will ever be the same, because everything will change. Or…
  • Write a nothing will ever change poem. Maybe you’re in the camp of “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” So while things change, they don’t–not really. Or do they? How can things change and not change? I’m confusing myself.


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Here’s my attempt at a Nothing Will poem:

“The Slot Machine of My Mind”

The kids want to go somewhere:
If I choose the cow park, the girl
will be happy, because she likes
to swing, but the boy will protest,

because he likes to geocache &
go fishing, which she grows tired
of rather fast. They both agree
that a trip to the store (& getting

a toy) would be fun, but I’m not
into spending money on more
things to clutter the playroom,
which is a mess. So I consider

having them clean the house,
but they want to go somewhere–
anywhere–that doesn’t involve
cleaning. So we go to the cow

park & the girl is appeased; &
we go fishing & the boy is
appeased; & everyone’s so
happy that we go to the store:

Now I’m stuck inside cleaning
the extra cluttered playroom.


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.

He knows one thing will always remain the same: The more laundry he does, the more laundry there will be left to do. The same can be said of the dishes.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.


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135 thoughts on “2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 8

  1. ToniBee3

    B.Y.O.B. 67

    there’s a peculiar look
    – the stretched eyeballs –
    on the faces of customers
    standing in line at the
    grocery store with
    loaded baskets
    when they realize
    carryout bags are
    now ten cents per.
    that Prop 67 passage
    has a way of stimulating
    the memory and the

  2. PSC in CT

    Check, Mate

    It’s (not?) the end
    of the world
    as we know it;
    though it feels
    like a death
    in the family,
    the loss of a limb
    or your only friend.

    You know
    the game isn’t over.
    There is still
    to be spent
    (but it’s your)


  3. taylor graham

    Annie at the new school

    Amphitheater sunk
    below level of sidewalk and lawn –
    concrete as a middle-school Monday
    declamations (silent) from the pit,
    Electra’s ancient voice never here, always
    frozen, no, flying in November
    heady as kids descending from buses –
    information escaping syllabi
    jostling for attention of young minds
    keyed to their digital
    lessons. Across the way, a boy once hoisted
    mailbag on saddle
    not knowing the railway was roaring
    off and away out here to the western wild,
    Pony Express already extinct
    quicker than hoofbeats
    running against iron, rails
    slick but slower than information
    tapped on a keyboard, clicked across space
    under heavens of progress,
    virtual change of
    weather by cyber-seconds
    x-ing out what was learned just
    yesterday in a world counting from

  4. Shennon

    We work from dawn til dusk
    Our lifestyle never changes
    Our crime rate stays quite low
    Our irrigation ranges

    Through crops on terraces
    Peru soil has awarded
    Plentiful food and drink
    For all work we’re rewarded

    Celebrations are huge
    We Incas never brag
    Nothing will ever change
    Is that a Spanish flag?


  5. JRSimmang


    Paps bounced me on his knees
    when I was young enough to still
    think that knees were steam engines
    and peppered across the land were
    horses of such great stature
    that the mountains were carved
    to memorialize their grace,
    that sandstorms and dust devils
    sprang from their hooves as they
    barreled through the plains.

    I could sit atop these beasts
    and beat my chest,
    and dad would look down at me,
    at the wildness in my eyes,
    and he became the thunder.

    -JR Simmang

  6. seingraham


    We have witnessed the waking of a dragon
    and tears of a nation are drowning the land
    at the realisation
    That once awakened, there is no dousing
    the dragon’s fire, no putting it back to sleep
    Listen as the choirs of children raise their
    voices to sing aloud their fears
    Their troubled faces glow beneath a moon
    unwilling to grow full this night
    A moon unwilling to rise, or set – a moon
    that seems about to vacillate for once

    Even the sun is not sure of its place in
    this new world – peeks carefully over
    the horizon before shuddering back down
    Better to leave all to the dark? Perhaps
    The old adage about the more things
    change, the more they stay the same?
    It does not hold true anymore
    Not now that the dragon’s been fully
    awakened and has no further use
    of sleep, daylight, or sunshine.

    1. ppfautsch24

      Something Has Changed
      Will they be the same or change;
      The look in their eyes of sadness
      And solemn questioning, did they understand?
      They knew something had happened that wasn’t quite right, that they didn’t understand.
      But, the quiet voices of the children cry out in the morning with questions I couldn’t answer.
      That the world they knew will ever be the same
      Or forever be changed.
      By Pamelap


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