2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 11

If you want to learn a little more about me, that’s easy to do. Dustin Brookshire is sharing poet profiles on his blog this month, and recently posted a profile of me.

Today is our second Tuesday of the month, which means it’s Two-for-Tuesday day.

Here are the two prompts for today:

  • Write a sonnet. (Click here if you need a refresher on sonnets.) I know some folks will say a writing a form is not a prompt, but I often use forms to prompt me into poems. And I know that some folks will say they hate traditional forms. Soooo, the other prompt is to…
  • Write an anti-form poem. Write about your dislike of poetic forms. Let it all out.


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Here’s my attempt at a Sonnet and/or Anti-Form Poem:

“no forms”

believe me when i say
with no shame or regret
that i’m anti-sonnet
& against triolet
because forms hide my voice
behind layered structures
blinding me with textures
forced without any choice
for instance i must rhyme
in elaborate ways
about evenings & days
that pass measured by time
which forces me to think
& thinking kind of stinks


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He actually does like to think and play around with poetic forms, including sonnets.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


Find more poetic posts here:



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431 thoughts on “2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 11

  1. Jane Shlensky

    a rewrite of sonnet is below it.

    Now and Then

    Time was, the end of winter was his balm,
    sun lingering, ice trickling to streams;
    whatever ached in him began to calm,
    until tired ground could blossom in his dreams.

    Time was, his eyes could see beyond cold soil
    some future summer day, pristine and clear,
    and plant a landscape rooted in his toil
    across the wintry canvas year by year.

    But he is old now, curved along his spine,
    as if he’s held a hoe since he was born,
    and gardening now paints him, in his mind,
    like God in Eden, planting beans and corn.

    Spring troubles him, for he reads Nature’s sign
    that he cannot keep pace with the divine.


    He’s old, you see, his spine curved like a comma—
    still wearing faded gardening clothes and that old hat.
    He leans on a hoe, trying still to plant, nurture fruit,
    and beat back weeds, but tired enough to stand more often
    than he moves. A passerby would think him a scarecrow
    or garden gnome, but he’s alive, perhaps planting what
    he cannot reap. But someone will, he thinks. Someone will.

  2. mschied

    Of all the words to say

    I think of all the words to say to you
    The whys and wherefores of my sorrows full
    As bit back lips bid dancing tongue subdue
    Refusing to let my thoughts overspill

    I consider letting truth reign free
    Of giving you my heart without restraint
    Temporary elation would there be
    For me, on yours the sudden urge to feint

    For tender regard is not yours to give
    There is another one who holds your love
    A loving chain wrapped tightly while she lives
    A faithful guardian of your treasured trove

    Rejoice for me that love has bloomed at all
    Weep that it was for you I chose to fall


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