2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 14

I never like sharing bad news, but I’m especially not fond of sharing family news. Marie Elena Good shared on Facebook that Andrea Heiberg, a member of the Poetic Asides family, died of cancer on Monday. Like so many on the street, she was an uplifting and poetic voice for so many other poets. She will be missed.

For today’s prompt, pick a popular saying and make that the title of your poem; then, write your poem. Some possible titles might include: “Blood Is Thicker Than Water,” “You Can’t Judge a Book By Its Cover,” “More Than You Can Shake a Stick At,” and so many others. Click here if you want more ideas.


poets_market_robert_lee_brewerOrder the New Poet’s Market!

The 2017 Poet’s Market, edited by Robert Lee Brewer, includes hundreds of poetry markets, including listings for poetry publications, publishers, contests, and more! With names, contact information, and submission tips, poets can find the right markets for their poetry and achieve more publication success than ever before.

Order your copy today!

In addition to the listings, there are articles on the craft, business, and promotion of poetry–so that poets can learn the ins and outs of writing poetry and seeking publication. Plus, it includes a one-year subscription to the poetry-related information on WritersMarket.com. All in all, it’s the best resource for poets looking to secure publication.

Click to continue.


Here’s my attempt at a Popular Saying Poem:

“not the sharpest tool in the shed”

not the sharpest tool in the shed
nor the brightest bulb in the house

not the prettiest bird in the sky
nor the wittiest man on the street

but i am your man & your fool
& anything else you need of me


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’s not a sharp tool or bright bulb; he’s just a human being.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


Find more poetic posts here:

You might also like:

  • No Related Posts

361 thoughts on “2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 14

  1. Rolf Erickson

    Enough Is Enough

    Yeah, it’s enough.
    But why stop there?
    When there is Plenty
    and Richness and Bounty
    just waiting to be beheld.
    And then there is Gratitude
    and Contentment and Serenity
    just around that corner.
    So when was Enough
    ever really enough?
    There’s more.

  2. Linda Hatton

    It’s for the Birds

    Just once, I’d like to belong
    to the world outside
    my sliding door,
    that place where
    another reality
    thrives, where
    hummingbirds nest
    and red-winged
    blackbirds call out
    to the sky, then fly away,
    day, night.

    Just once, I’d like to exist
    among those breathing
    aircraft, spread my wings,
    release my beak (sharp
    as needle-nosed pliers),
    settle into my bed
    of twigs, leaves, mud, nest-
          le to the sound of crickets,
    be rocked to sleep
    by my cousin,
    the soaring wind.

    Just once, I’d like to stretch
    my wings like fingers, splash
    my lining in the wake
    of a cool lily pond, dip
    down into a farmer’s barn,
    fatten up on stolen,
    scattered grain.

    Just once, I’d like to fit
    in with a flock of star-
    lings, cause a stir,
    watch passersby
    drop their jaws
    in delight
    at my

  3. Imelda


    He turns heads whenever he walks in
    for behind him follow eight
    younger by degrees
    version of himself.

    His name
    and image will live on
    down through the ages.

  4. Margot Suydam

    “On the Origin of Species” Clerihew

    Charles Darwin, scientific mind of a lost religious age
    shocked his peers, caused stir enough among sage
    strict believers in Eden’s fruit today even to enrage.
    How can evil still burn science from a bible page?

  5. SharylAnn


    No one ever believed
    it would happen
    The clown car
    was too full
    for that laughable


    Here we are in
    a world-wide
    of everyone

    A country with
    an orange elephant
    who will not (or cannot)
    read to educate himself

    Tweeter of destruction

    Killer by indiscriminate
    failed raids

    Who is bankrupting out country


    No one is adult enough
    to put that orange baby
    in a covered and locked
    for our protection …

    Copyright © 2017 Sharyl
    Always…I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you Love.
    As Ever, Sharyl

  6. ToniBee3

    Reach for the Stars

    Your dreams are crisp and pressed well;
    It seems you’ve known them all along.
    You strut in tulle and ankle bells
    Through molten stones and cyclones.

    Passed are those days of peek-a-boos;
    You stand now poised and sleek
    Like mauve gazelles in high-heeled shoes.
    Aplomb… it kissed your cheeks.

    Sing us your songs in velvet tones:
    A cappella… riffs and scats…
    My dear, give us more of that…

    One stage! Two snaps! Amethyst lights!
    Hip walk! Staccato! Improv! Scene.
    There is where you’re free and bright
    Like moonbeams over the serene.

    It’s the verve in your willowy spine.
    It’s the rippling of your joy.
    Could be your locs, one may opine,
    That swing like jazz at the Savoy.

    You New York-dream in the noon;
    One day you’ll settle there… or elsewhere…
    And climb the stars to open the moon
    And find faisceaux de bonheur.

    Je t’aime.

  7. Jezzie


    Things are finally going right for me
    having moved home to my favourite place
    I thank my guardian angel every day
    and hope that I won’t ever fall from grace.

    But I’m still crossing my fingers and toes
    now I’m proud of being here in Cornwall
    because Granny’s favourite saying goes
    that usually pride comes before a fall.

  8. Domino

    Fallen Through the Cracks

    visions, lucent and shining
    float into her head
    flotsam of all her yesterdays
    from inside the shabby
    cardboard box
    she calls a home.

    once, a year or two ago
    a man made her a house,
    tiny door and windows
    fold-down bed
    and a lock to keep her things safe.

    but the government declared it
    unfit for habitation
    so now she has the box

    her visions still remain
    but she misses her house.

    1. ppfautsch24

      Fast and Furiously
      Fast and furiously you took to the curves of my frame, even before you knew my name.
      The dashboard on my panel and front bumper; signaled and cushioned your tampering with my head.
      Your keyless entry and callous driving left us stranded miles from getting wed.
      Taking hairpin turns and your charged up
      booster, blasted out the threads of our love.
      Fast and furious.
      By Pamelap

  9. Jrentler


    If we all be
    a burning wick
    tip of candle

    on a sheet cake spanning
    however long it has to

    & once a chance
    to steal a breath
    with a blow

    do you?

    or do you feel
    a prickle on your waxy neck

    a dark to fall in-line
    if you give in

  10. J.lynn Sheridan

    Never in a Million Years


    we thought ignorance clever—
    less agonizing than the burden
    of brilliance or tip-of-the-hat altruism–
    the colorless prism of time and again.

    A man can only stick one nose in the air
    and since we traveled against the grain,
    we rebelled into our current mantra—Just Be.
    Set your thoughts free; shun the pain

    of gray beards and spectacles. Invent passion.
    Invent vision. Invent artistry. Be innocent of
    vain airs, pomposity, and class warfare.

    Then faint curiosity tricked us (pity our psyche.)
    Discovery is collective—intellect AND art.
    Paint shirts and starched shirts abide
    inside the same books, same bleeding heart

    that knows to achieve mastery, if but for a moment,
    we need to practice the cultured hand of refinement.

    Art welcomes strangers who don’t belong.

  11. Michelle Hed

    Spill the Beans

    Go ahead
    bare my soul
    and to me
    you will be dead.

    My secrets
    you are suppose
    to take
    to the grave.

    I trusted you
    with thoughts
    not fit
    for every brain.

    For your own gain
    you shared
    my mind

    I’m reeling
    from the fallout
    of trust
    that went viral.

    You spilt
    the beans
    that weren’t
    yours to spill.

  12. jennfel

    On a Wing and a Prayer

    Watch our dreams
    Flutter upward
    On a wing
    And a prayer

    Spread blown kisses
    Like pixie dust
    On the backs
    Of butterflies

    Tiny souls
    That could not
    Stay with us
    Near long enough

    But left
    Indelible impressions
    In subtle breezes
    Starlit nights

    Missed chance
    To watch
    Them grow
    Into their own

    Still the chrysalis
    Carries on
    An empty shell
    Within mine

  13. Bruce Niedt

    I wasn’t totally satisfied with how I worked yesterday’s prompt into my poem, so here is another try. Try to figure out the wordplay I have going on:

    No Man Is an Island

    “…he’s a peninsula.” – Jefferson Airplane

    Don’t think that my pen insulates me
    from the rest of the world.
    There is land at least on one side.
    I sail this ship of stories,
    this vessel of ideas, this ark. Uphill I go
    from shore; the higher ground doesn’t
    bother me at all. I let the view inspire me.
    The worst I could do is miss this chance.

  14. briehuling

    A Seedy Reminiscence
    Ode to Everything but the Bagel Sesame Sprinkle

    I know you won’t believe me
    but, be brave!
    Dress your avocado
    your schmear
    your Everything
    but that ring of basted & boiled dough.

    Oh that familiar crunch
    The dance of the quick boiled Bachata!
    Who knew that meeting
    the pinnacle of the bagel hierarchy
    was an awkward grocery store scan away?

    Sesame seeds!
    Sea salt flakes!
    Dried minced garlic!
    Black sesame seeds!
    Poppy seeds!
    oh man!

    A private portal into a parallel
    east coast village world
    where bagels are beygl(s)
    dense Polish Jewish fresh baked delights!

    Dare to complicate
    to complex(icate)
    a surface other than
    egg wash sticky.
    A personal seasoned masterpiece of your very own!

    Brie Huling

  15. Holly

    Let’s run it up the flagpole
    and see if anyone salutes

    Good as gold, said Nana
    into the phone
    good as gold she was
    staying with Nana while
    Baby was being born.
    Mostly she was at least in

    intention. Like when she
    lagged behind a garden
    tour, stopping to pick as many
    blooms as her hands would
    hold to make a bouquet
    for Mama. Instead of thanks,

    reproach like a bee-sting:
    They’re not yours to give!
    They belong to the garden.
    Quickly she returned them
    with care to re-tuck each
    broken stem back into bed.

    Even then no thanks and praise,
    but she had learned about
    clichés, inventing her own
    to be remembered
    when she was grown:
    You can’t unpick a daffodil.

    (this is my second attempt at a post. I keep getting “awaiting moderation” on my poem as well as on my comments for others. Hoping this will fix itself as it has in the past.)

  16. drwasy

    What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger

    Mama always told
    me what doesn’t kill
    you makes you stronger.
    She should know—she’s lived
    through bad people
    and times to kill her
    several times over,
    enough for her to
    run marathons and
    bench-press more poundage
    than Mister Universe.
    At eighty she’s stood
    longer than her mama
    and father, sister
    and brothers, the love
    of her life who, like
    god and the oak out
    front, would live forever.
    But does stronger mean
    better? With lungs that
    need a tank to fill
    and a heart broke in
    a dozen places,
    only two jiggers
    of sweet liquor get
    her through her lonely nights.

    Very sad to hear of Andrea’s passing. Her poems have moved me. Peace to her family and friends–she will be missed.

  17. PKP

    reaching out
    from so far
    an island in
    where your
    voice called
    across the sea
    Oh Andrea
    how often we
    listened and
    smiled and how
    often I fear we
    did not …
    Bide you well
    to a lighthouse
    that is always
    welcoming with
    the arms of all
    cradling your
    words and holding
    you safe and
    Oh Andrea …
    Bon Voyage
    home …
    with love
    from all
    who truly
    loved you
    on The Street
    and each wave
    of the sparkling
    sea …

  18. Missy

    No Place Like Home

    Even in a tiny studio
    in a three-story walkup

    in a city
    known for unemployment

    and drugs
    and shootings,

    with no space
    in the kitchen

    for a table, no space
    for a couple

    and a baby, no place
    to put all my books

    but it has so much
    natural light

    it makes me smile
    all the time—-

    there is no place
    like home.

  19. SarahLeaSales

    That Was Just the Way Her Cookie Crumbled

    When Blondie Brown—
    a not-so smart cookie—
    made her chocolatey chipper cookies,
    they wouldn’t make it home
    before dust, but
    when she went down South,
    through word of mouth,
    she discovered butter
    (and kicked margarine to the curves).

  20. De Jackson

    {you can say that again}

    this poem is for no one
    -one in the crowd with a scram
    -bled soul.)

    it can only be seen
    by firelight
    by starlight
    by the far light of another galaxy,
    or the candle you’re burning
                            at both ends.

    this poem is no friend
           (nor faux)
    of italics or bold, only
    the quiet marching of
    insignificant keys.

    don’t stop too long.
    this poem has no song,
    nor name. no sameness
    or oneness to speak of.
    no breeze.

    this poem is a ghost
    writer on a prism sky,
    the gnawed why
    of something you’ve
    had caught in your
    craw for years and

    the place where a rotten
    tooth used to be. the hole
    you dug to get yourself out,
    then realized you were trapped
    a thousand feet down
    with a busted shovel.

    this poem is in
    -spicuous. it wears a
    veil. a mask. the dozen
    aliases of un
    -spoken broken.

    a smattering
    of fading

    a cloak
    of stars.


  21. Marie Elena

    There are many fabulous poems in response to this prompt, but it is 1:30 in the morning and I am fading too quickly to post my list of favorites. Today, I hope he won’t mind, but I choose to re-post my one absolute favorite of the day, written by Daniel Paicopulos.

    We’re not all brave souls.
    Some are the audience
    when the brave take their bow.
    (by Daniel Paicopulos)

    Daniel, this is WONDERFUL Thank you for this!

  22. DMK

    don’t throw out the baby with the water

    don’t throw out the baby
    water maybe
    toxic stream
    was kind of mean
    save the future
    all can be saved and all endue
    throw out the baby with the water?
    leaves a world without laughter

  23. Marie Elena

    “We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep.” ~ William James

    This is not a poem, but a sharing of connections we cannot comprehend. Sleep is evading me this evening (or rather this early morning), as I decided to go back to a Facebook personal message thread Andrea and I kept going for a number of years. As I was scrolling, scrolling, scrolling up, looking for the beginning of the thread, my eyes fell on words that caught my attention. I halted scrolling up, and scrolled down a few lines to re-find it. There it was. April 8, 2012, 9:19 a.m., Andrea and I were wishing each other a Happy Easter. Serendipity?

    This, followed by a few haunting lines from a poem she’d written: “Darling, I will be gone, too. Only I am here for a little longer. I have cried and I am surprised, I can still be crying. So many years have passed. So many people passed. My mother taught me how to die the day she died, only what was the use when it was not me but you, so suddenly you.”

    What types of connections do we have in our universe we know nothing of? I wonder. But one thing I’m sure: Andrea did nothing more than leave her human container. Not God rest her soul, but God give her sheer enjoyment in His presence.


    1. MET

      I know I wrote this poem for others…. but it was one of those moments when things all come clear… I was at the ARP Church in Due WESt , SC listening to the pipe organ play before the funeral and before the family marched…. and since I keep a notebook with me all the time… I wrote this poem,, and later sent a copy to both of my friends… she was in college with me… he was a teenager hanging around the radio station.. WARP… but I loved their parents dearly… The sentiment of this poem I share with you…it is as I wrote that day waiting for the funeral..

      To My Friends Who Lost Their Mother…

      I am sitting here
      Waiting for a funeral to commence.
      It will be my friends’ journey
      Through the field of grief.
      My heart goes out to them.
      I pray their journey will be a safe one.
      I pray their hearts find the joy
      Along the way.
      I pray when the journey’s at an end
      They will find a new strength
      Within themselves
      And a heart of love to carry on.
      Mary Elizabeth Todd March 10, 2011

  24. Jrentler

    Courage is fear walking

    Find a way
    for some did not
    wake up today

    Lace up your skin
    velcro a grin
    & plant your soles

    (I didn’t know her, but a lost poet is always the worst. R.I.P. Andrea)

  25. pcm

    L’Habit ne fait pas le moine

    “The cowl does not make the monk”
    said Pépé Le Pew when called a skunk

    Whether holy roller or Casanova
    both struggle with what people thunk

    For when character and talent
    betray a façade holy or gallant

    Both salvation and affection
    will meet with rejection

    despite mighty rhetorical spin
    as world order doth collapse from within.

  26. grcran

    Cats Have Nine Lives

    Go ahead and disregard the cat’s ability to
    Climb trees
    Be agile quick patient cute playful clever
    Read minds
    What about about the cat’s capability to love you
    Even though he really really really
    Doesn’t want to

    gpr crane

  27. MET

    Blessing upon those who loved Andrea Heiberg, and may their journey thru the field of grief bring them quiet joy along the way and safe journey to Andrea….

  28. MET

    He is Risen! He is Risen Indeed!

    They buried him quickly before the sun set.
    The sky look dark and foreboding
    As that sun went down.
    They hurried to hiding
    In case they had the same fate as he they buried.
    Did they hear the news of Judas?
    A friend who deceived,
    The betrayer in their midst.
    Did their anger towards Judas
    Divert them from their grief?

    Did they venture out from hiding?
    Were these men so afraid?
    How did they feel as their faith
    Became a vapor in the air?
    One said I will go back fishing,
    And his brother said so will I.
    Did they plan to get together quietly
    To keep his name alive.

    The women more practical
    Wanted one last job to do
    For the burial was rushed, and
    They had not time to gather
    The cloth to bind with new clothe.
    To bathe him and dress him with fresh myrrh…
    Myrrh brought to him at his birth
    The magi three… more valuable
    Than the gold they also brought…
    A gift for royalty.
    Myrrh that was offered with the wine,
    Bitter drink indeed.
    Were the women there when Jesus refused this drink,
    And thought how parched his mouth had been
    In his dying hours.

    Did they look upon a starlit night
    Trekking quietly to his grave?
    Did these women see the sun began to rise
    On the edge of sphere on which we reside?
    When they got there were they surprised
    To see the heavy stone rolled aside?
    Did they ask among themselves
    Who would do this to him, our friend?
    There came two angels of dazzling dress,
    “He is Risen,” they said,
    And they rushed to where the men still slept.

    “He is Risen!” they said,
    And across the centuries we cry,
    “He is Risen, Indeed.”

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 14, 2017

  29. De Jackson

    a penny for your thoughts.

    a dime for a rhyme. a quarter
    -moon for all her borrowed shine.

    one dollar for the sun, but it
    takes two to tango in all that
    tangerine light.

    right? curiosity
    killed the smitten kitten,
    see? and you can’t judge
    a book
    by her cover,
    especially when
    she bites off more
    than she can

    all hail
    the chief
    the rock
    the hard place

    or the basket
    where you keep far
    too many eggs
            (two birds,
       one stone.)

    and we’re back
    to the drawing board,
    where we’ve only just begun.


  30. MichelleMcEwen

    In One Ear and Out the Other

    i be wanting to call you baby
    be wanting to do badly, be
    staring at you lately
    like maybe
    we could be
    more than what we do
    in the back seat, be
    wondering about you lately
    like maybe we be
    more than friends
    like maybe we be
    needing each other
    more than wanting
    like sometimes you be
    my man and i be
    your woman, be
    wanting to tell you this
    but i know you don’t be listening.

        1. Jrentler

          Dear Michelle,

          every day you give us such a fresh sharp voice! I love your work, but I meant “Lewis Carroll” comment to De Jackson.

          You’re like a Beat poetz butterfly knife of your own devising!

  31. cari.resnick07

    Head Over Heels

    Head over heels
    is what I feel for you
    My knight in shining armor
    my other half, my better half
    Head over heels
    butterflies in my belly
    sweaty palms, heart racing
    can’t believe you are mine
    Head over heels
    in love with you

  32. pamelaraw

    Slowly but Surely

    My Swedish friend
    always said
    slowly but slowly
    as if the surely
    were implied.
    I never corrected him
    because his phrase
    never felt wrong.
    Life is a tunnel
    I’m navigating with my hands.
    Sometimes I have to stoop
    or crawl to keep going.
    I used to think
    if I go slow enough
    I will get somewhere
    though not always
    where I wanted to be.
    Now that my feet
    feel the downward
    slope of time,
    I know this journey
    only has one end.

  33. Asha1000


    Meet expectations without ado
    sometimes the best falls a little
    short of looking forward to
    getting a flying grade
    no boilerplate mark
    maybe an A –
    it’s great to

    – Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming

  34. lsteadly

    Is anyone else having problems posting a poem? I have tried multiple times with several changes, all to no avail 🙁 And I have a funny poem for today’s prompt. Darn!

    1. lsteadly

      The Fur is Going to Fly…

      Cat came a callin’ to f.a.w.n on Old Dog
      But Dog was dog tired from livin’ life on the hog

      “Buzz off, my dear birdbrain,” he howled her way.
      “Stop badgering me, I’m hittin’ the hay.”

      But Cat kept on houndin’ him, raising a stink,
      “I’m not p.u.s.s.y footin’ around, if that’s what you think.”

      Old Dog moaned, “Were you raised in a barn?
      I get up with the chickens every darn morn’!”

      “Oh, please, let’s not butt heads, my darlin’ Doggie!
      We could have more fun than a barrel of monkeys!”

      “You’re cuckoo, my Cat, takin’ me down this rabbit hole,
      but you really put on a good dog and pony show.”

      So Dog got off his high horse and had to eat crow
      while Cat put the rest of her ducks in a row.

      In two shakes of a lamb’s tail they both flew the coop
      and feathered their new nest with tasty duck soup.

      (maybe this one will work??)

  35. tunesmiff

    G. Smith (BMI)
    I asked you again,
    Where you have been,
    You said, “Just out with the girls;”
    When you start tellin’ lies,
    You get that look in your eyes,
    And start playin’ with your amber curls.

    Yeah, you should’ve called me,
    And said you’d be late;
    But time just got away from you all,
    You didn’t mean for me to sit up and wait.
    And you think that this time you’ve stalled me,

    Yada, yada, yada, Blah, blah, blah;
    I’ve heard, those words, before;
    Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah,
    I don’t, wanna hear, any more.
    Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah,
    I can’t, hear a thing, you’re sayin’;
    Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah,
    I ain’t part of, this game, you’re playin’.

    I come home, the pots are cold,
    The coffee must be hours old,
    And you didn’t leave a note on the door;
    There’s laundry in the dryer,
    And the basket’s piled higher,
    And you say you can’t take any more.

    You’re sure you wanna try me?
    You don’t think I’ve had enough?
    You think you can deny me?
    Go ahead and call my bluff;

    And you’ll say,
    Yada, yada, yada, waa, waa, waa;
    I don’t, wanna hear, you cryin’,
    Yada, yada, yada, waa, waa, waa;
    I don’t, wanna hear, your lying.
    Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah,
    I can’t, hear a thing, you’re sayin’;
    Yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah,
    I’m done with, this game, you’re playin’.

    1. tunesmiff

      And the flip side?
      G. Smith (BMI)
      I first saw you in the parking lot at Six Flags,
      You were riding on the back seat of a tram;
      Saying something about where we were headed,
      But I didn’t pay attention, I didn’t give a damn.

      I heard,
      Blah, blah, blah,
      Yada, yada, yada,
      I didn’t hear a single thing you said;
      Blah, blah, blah,
      Yada, yada, yada,
      Your image stuck inside my head.
      The only thing that I could do,
      Was smile as I sat watching you,
      Everything simply disappeared,
      Except that buzzing in my ears;
      Blah, blah, blah,
      Yada, yada, yada;
      I couldn’t hear a word,
      You said.

      Two years later I’d come to a decision,
      I bought a ring and practiced what I’d say;
      When the time was right I simply popped the question,
      “Yes,” is all I recall hearing to this very day.

      All the rest was,
      Blah, blah, blah,
      Yada, yada, yada,
      I didn’t hear another thing you said;
      Blah, blah, blah,
      Yada, yada, yada,
      Your image stuck inside my head.
      The only thing that I could do,
      Was smile as I sat watching you,
      Everything simply disappeared,
      Except that buzzing in my ears;
      Blah, blah, blah,
      Yada, yada, yada;
      I couldn’t hear another,
      Word, you said.

      And I can’t believe how quickly time has flown,
      And suddenly all the kids’re grown.
      You think I’m going deaf,
      But I have always known,

      It’s been,
      Blah, blah, blah,
      Yada, yada, yada,
      I didn’t hear a single thing you said;
      Blah, blah, blah,
      Yada, yada, yada,
      Your image stuck inside my head.
      The only thing that I can do,
      Is smile as I sit watching you,
      Everything simply disappears,
      Except that buzzing in my ears;
      Blah, blah, blah,
      Yada, yada, yada;
      I couldn’t hear,
      A word,
      You’ve said.

  36. lsteadly

    The Fur is Going to Fly…

    Cat came a callin’ to f.a.w.n on Old Dog
    But Dog was dog tired from livin’ life on the hog

    “Buzz off, my dear birdbrain,” he howled her way.
    “Stop badgering me, I’m hittin’ the hay.”

    But Cat kept on houndin’ him, raising a stink,
    “I’m not pussy footin’ around, if that’s what you think.”

    Old Dog moaned, “Were you raised in a barn?
    I get up with the chickens every darn morn’!”

    “Oh, please, let’s not butt heads, my darlin’ Doggie!
    We could have more fun than a barrel of monkeys!”

    “You’re cuckoo, my Cat, takin’ me down this rabbit hole,
    but you really put on a good dog and pony show.”

    So Dog got off his high horse and had to eat crow
    while Cat put the rest of her ducks in a row.

    In two shakes of a lamb’s tail they both flew the coop
    and feathered their new nest with tasty duck soup.

    Can’t seem to post so maybe the word “fawn” was an issue??? Thus the above spelling…

  37. Ann M

    flown the coop

    window cracked
    and out i flew;
    it didn’t take much–
    a jumping start
    and a couple of wings.

    the stars were out,
    the night still dark.
    I left my pearls
    and my violin–
    and you.

    in the sky, i
    felt a lift–
    a wind bluster
    against my back
    so I couldn’t turn
    or even look back.

    i think you’ll
    miss the eggs and toast,
    and coffee pot,
    the folded socks–
    my eyes
    or even me.

    so why not wake
    up, set the sail–
    find my wake
    and follow through.
    the wind is free,
    the world awaits.

  38. Austin Hill

    April Showers Bring May Flowers

    First in March…
    A ferocious lion
    annually experiences a change of heart and
    a gentle lamb

    Then in April…
    The rains fall and fall and fall according to tradition…
    what of global warming,
    climate change and

    do April showers really bring
    May flowers?
    “Not so much.” experts say.
    “Thermal reading reigns, not the rains.
    But ‘April temperatures bring May flowers’
    just doesn’t sound right, does it?”

    © April 2017 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

  39. samisal

    Once, in a blue moon,
    There lived a small and loving creature
    With three legs, white fur, and a tail

    Once, in my back cottage,
    We played cards together and compared handwriting
    The moon was waxing and the cards were waxy and I was warm

    Once, in a blue car,
    I wondered how it was that you weren’t overheating in your thick grey sweatshirt
    And also if any particular license plates make you distraught like they do for me

    Once, in a boxy room,
    You wore black and I wore red like you were spades and I was diamonds
    Obviously neither of us were clubs or hearts because someone would have said something

    Once, in a back garden,
    I was jealous because you had glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling and I had white paint
    But neither of us had a blue moon, so I suppose there was still much to be desired

    Once, in a while,
    I’ll listen to songs that played on the radio in middle school
    Chances for good things only come around so often, not as often as the spokes on my bicycle wheels

    I suppose I’ll wait for the next one.
    In the meantime, there’s always the moon