2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 9

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Call Me (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write the poem. Possible titles include: “Call Me Al,” “Call Me Crazy,” “Call Me Batman,” “Call Me at 3 O’clock in the Morning,” etc.


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Here’s my attempt at a Call Me Blank poem:

“Call Me Names”

Call me names
if that’s what
you want to do,

but leave the sticks
and the stones
all alone;

I promise
I’ll pick up
the telephone

if you need
a verbal
punching bag;

they are words;
they’re absurd;
and they’ll never

ever hurt me.


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 may write a brave poem about words never hurting him, but he admits words can cut as deep (or deeper) than a knife at times. Play nice today and every day.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.


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166 thoughts on “2016 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 9

  1. ToniBee3

    Call Me This, Call Me That

    call me this, call me that,
    call me a muddied cat,
    the world’s worst acrobat,
    a riddle in a vat.

    call me a hypnotist,
    a pessimist, an optimist,
    a jellyfish with iron fists,
    a quiver in the mist.

    call me a dunderhead,
    a smarty-pants, the walking dead,
    an old fusty book unread,
    a moldy piece of bread.

    call me a whippoorwill,
    a mangosteen without its peel,
    a molecule sitting still;
    but do not call me… nil.

  2. Shennon

    Call Me Calmly

    Call me calmly
    Don’t raise your voice
    Don’t bother to scold
    Don’t be mad or upset
    Don’t let acid lace your words
    Or drip from your tongue
    Don’t use mockery
    Or try to cajole me.
    To get my attention
    Simply call me softly
    With a lilt to your voice
    With anticipation and
    Even excitement
    Call me with joy in your voice
    With love in your heart
    I will come running
    When calmly, you call me.


  3. Bruce Niedt

    This was obviously written for the phobia prompt, but I’ve struggling mightily this month to write a poem a day, so I sneaked it into this prompt:

    Call Me Electrophobic

    Ever since that snowy night that I tried
    to cross the Green Line tracks in Boston,
    I have had a healthy respect for electricity.
    Some may call me phobic, but consider
    that that invisible, charged monster
    grabbed me in a bear hug and threw me down
    into an icy puddle. I was paralyzed at that moment,
    and may have died, had a nearby cop not pulled me out,
    getting a jolt himself. Afterward, I was well enough
    to refuse an ambulance ride, with nothing but
    a stiff neck and back the next day.

    I feel like I cheated Death,
    if Death can be measured in voltage.
    It seems to follow me, lurking like the unseen specter
    in those ridiculous Final Destination movies,
    dispatching teens and pious adults in the grisliest ways.
    It hasn’t bumped me off yet, but every so often
    it lets me know that it’s there waiting, like the time
    I remodeled my kitchen and my screwdriver slipped
    into a live uncovered outlet. That sting reminded me
    how close it could be at any moment.
    Now today, as I walk in the rain past an electrical substation
    with its red lightning-bolt signs and ominous hum,
    I move quickly off the wet grass and onto the pavement.

    1. ppfautsch24

      Call Me Blank
      Call me a blank canvas that was unblemished and unmarked upon when I was born.
      But as I grew, the lines of color shaded or drew me out; of what was written or said on my canvas.
      Through the years edges frayed with bent corners and torn or ripped centers.
      Writing smeared, and lines got blurred or erased away, letting the dark ink stain blacken and white out the color of me.
      By Pamelap

  4. Michelle Hed

    Call Me? Please Do Not

    Ring, ring
    goes the telephone
    to a jaunty little tune
    but on the other side
    is another political buffoon.

    Ring, ring
    goes the telephone
    to a beeping little ditty
    but on the other side
    is a computer guy whose really rather shifty.

    Ring, ring
    goes the telephone
    to Darth Vader’s March
    but on the other side
    is Rachel from card services and she is full of s…starch.

    Ring, ring
    goes the telephone
    to an annoying wail
    but on the other side
    is the IRS threatening to put you in jail.

    Ring, ring
    goes the telephone
    ring, ring
    goes the telephone
    ring, ring, ring, ring

  5. seingraham


    First there was that farcical thing
    to the south of us
    Where millions of people cast
    their votes and popular means
    something different from
    electoral – so even though the
    one candidate won the popular,
    the other won the electoral and
    that’s what counts … unreal.
    So – I don’t live there; I tried to
    shake it off, put it to bed,
    so to speak.
    The day after the day after, I
    fell down our steps – fell hard
    but didn’t break anything –
    luckily – am just sore in lots of
    places, like a granny.
    Still – shook it off and thought,
    okay … am getting back to
    something like normal
    When – wham – like a kick
    to the solar plexus, my
    daughter comes tip-toeing
    up the stairs to ask me
    if I’ve heard the news …
    No – no, no, no
    The great Leonard Cohen,
    most beloved, poet, song-writer
    and performer – has died.
    This week has been one horrible
    thing after another, but Cohen’s
    death is the most unbearable news.
    Call me when it’s all over.

  6. shellkaysm

    Call Me; I Care (Kyrielle Poem)

    Call me before you are leaving
    And when you safely arrive there
    No matter day, time, circumstance
    I promise to listen; I care.

    Call if you feel like escaping
    We’ll sort it out: fear or despair
    If you’re floating, I’ll help ground you
    I promise to listen; I care.

  7. jgweber1221

    Call Me When the First Daffodils Emerge

    Last year, we saw them together.
    They bent a gentle greeting,
    curved beneath the wooden park sign.
    Sitting on a bench, I counted petals
    that grew the way I wanted to,
    yellow and brave and unapologetic.
    I could tell you were thinking
    about rejuvenation: a stream
    returning to life, new grass appearing
    on our grandfather’s grave. Sister,
    tell me once you see them again.
    Think of me when you recognize
    our mother in the dry skin
    on your knuckles and call me back
    to that park bench. I’ll bring
    tea and a gentle breeze and
    a comfortable silence. On the brink
    of spring, we can be perennial too.

  8. Valkyri

    Call Me

    Call me one of 56 million.
    Call me one of the New Republicans.
    Call me crazy, if you want to.
    Call me what you will.
    One fourth of all 200 million registered voters agree with me.
    One half of all 200 million voters couldn’t be bothered to speak their minds.
    100 million people didn’t vote.
    May their voicelessness now continue, for four more years.
    We won.
    Silence is golden.
    Deal with it.

  9. RJ Clarken

    Call Me and We’ll Watch for Storms

    “…I just don’t wish you rain, Beloved – I wish you the beauty of storms…” ~John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

    Horizon is the point. Let’s watch
    those storms. They’re brewing. There’s a swatch
    of clouds. They’re stitched to darken skies: and rain
    won’t feign to sympathize

    with all the ways that beauty acts.
    Our view is not a parallax.
    We’ll compensate, get wet and breathe the air
    where care has got no sheathe.

    I’m guilty of naïveté,
    perhaps, but hope cannot give way
    to fear. So rain and storm: we’re here. I dream
    this theme won’t disappear.


  10. barbara_y

    Call Me

    when the time’s right
    when the red, red robin comes bob, bob, bobbing along
    when the swallows come back to capistrano
    when you miss your lovin mama
    when your ship comes in
    when that blue moon turns to gold again
    when i’m 64–
    when pigs fly
    when doves cry
    when the night has come
    when you wish upon a star
    when jupiter aligns with mars
    when two worlds collide
    when the roll is called up yonder
    when the chips are down
    when the shit hits the fan
    when we begin the beguine
    when all’s said and done
    when hell freezes over
    when the fat lady sings


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