2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 20

After today, we’ll be 67% of the way through this challenge. Only 10 days to go!

For today’s prompt, write a task poem. The task can be some glorious duty, or it can be a seemingly small and insignificant job. Or the poem can take someone to task. It’s your task to figure it out and write it.

*****

Recreating_Poetry_Revise_PoemsRe-create Your Poetry!

Revision doesn’t have to be a chore–something that should be done after the excitement of composing the first draft. Rather, it’s an extension of the creation process!

In the 48-minute tutorial video Re-creating Poetry: How to Revise Poems, poets will be inspired with several ways to re-create their poems with the help of seven revision filters that they can turn to again and again.

Click to continue.

*****

Here’s my attempt at a Task Poem:

“poeming”

the words come easiest
when i’m working on some
thing completely different

like moving numbers in
spreadsheets or looking for
errors in an index

folding laundry & then
putting away laundry
or washing the dishes

but paying all the bills
that produces the most
poems & here we go

*****

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 writes poems even when he’s not writing poems.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.

*****

Find more poetic posts here:

You might also like:

  • No Related Posts

359 thoughts on “2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 20

  1. JanetRuth

    To The Loveliness Of Task

    Of all the loveliness of life, in want and need’s duress
    Of finding finest treasures in measures of mundane-ness
    (Though we may not always have sought or even thought to ask)
    We often overlook the common loveliness of Task

    The evidence of Providence is in each gifted breath
    He grants through Adam’s curse, a chance to taste the bread of worth
    Where often in the moil of toil we take and break and eat
    Forgetful of Task’s loveliness that favors hands and feet

    …and though the glance-value of come and go seems small and plain
    If we live to give it our best we will not strive in vain
    The saddest state of being, seeing only form and face
    And missing how the loveliness of Task spills from God’s grace

  2. Kay Butzin

    Earlier I posted this as a prose poem, but the line breaks didn’t translate right.
    So I revised it into stanzas:

    MONDAY WAS WASHDAY

    Before bed on Sunday night,
    Mom sorted the laundry.
    “If you have anything

    that needs to be washed,
    get it out here!”she would yell
    from the utility room.

    Then before breakfast on Monday,
    she filled the washer with pots
    of scalding water she heated

    on the kitchen stove
    and pieces of soap shaved
    from a Fels-Naptha soap bar.

    The white load would be followed
    by light-coloreds and, finally, darks.
    After they agitated to her satisfaction,

    she would lift the steaming garments
    into the rinse tubs with a sawed-off
    broom handle; run each through the wringer

    two times to squeeze out as much water
    as possible. She clothes-pinned them to lines
    she strung between poles

    and cottonwood tree trunks to dry.
    And when they were, she would sprinkle
    water on them again and roll

    them up in the laundry basket
    for ironing day on Tuesday.

    1. JanetRuth

      you took me on an instant trip back to my simple childhood days…esp this!!
      she would lift the steaming garments
      into the rinse tubs with a sawed-off
      broom handle; run each through the wringer

      How fun it was to stand on the other side of the wringer and guide them into the laundry basket when mom asked for my ‘help’:)

      Thank-you for this nostalgic painting:)

  3. headintheclouds87

    The Harshest Taskmaster

    The blank page stares up at me
    Expectantly with its empty lines,
    I imagine its weary, curt voice,
    ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’
    It asks with a sharp, papery tongue,
    ‘I thought you were gracing me with a poem,
    And yet, you are still sitting there,
    Chewing on that poor soul of a pen,
    Tutting away because your tiny brain
    Can’t muster even the faintest slither
    Of poetic inspiration today!’
    Realising that I don’t have an answer
    And that it’s likely not entirely normal
    To hear paper talking to me anyway,
    I take a step back from the task at hand,
    Hoping time will lift this cursed fog,
    But yet I still him murmuring away,
    This waiting blank page of paper
    With its thin intimidating lines,
    Wondering if it will be naked forever.

  4. Rie Sheridan Rose

    Folding Laundry

    by Rie Sheridan Rose

    It’s a task that must be done.
    But it’s not my favorite one…

    I hate this chore more
    than any other…

    Especially since the washer
    has decided to burble water
    out the bottom any time I try…

    Still we must wear clothes.
    Society frowns on not.
    Despite my husband’s T-shirt
    decrying the need for pants.

    So I have to attack the pile…
    one load at a time,
    not to flood the pantry,
    and fold away the laundry
    while it still holds the
    warmth of the dryer.

  5. kimberleetm

    Welcome to Checkbook Roulette!

    Only so much money
    comes in, so only
    so much, less a little,
    goes out. Like a game
    show, who will the lucky
    contestant be, who gets
    the prize, really not so
    great but better than
    less, or worse, nothing.

    Today’s losers count
    for part of what
    came in, how can it be
    they get no consolation
    prize? Commiseration
    maybe, but it doesn’t
    pay the bills. Resent-
    ment was for good
    times; now, dismay

    turns the clacking broken wheel.

  6. KM

    Tried to take on the task of mixing with the NaPoWriMo prompt to incorporate the vocabulary from a specific game or sport.

    Building a Monopoly

    Always be the banker
    because she who controls her money gets ahead.
    Resist the temptation to race straight to Boardwalk.
    Build your empire, but know that sometimes
    the biggest payoff is the one earned gradually.
    Ride the rails, find adventure. Pass go, but go slow.
    Look out the window and breathe.
    Imagine your first house, the land its staked on,
    what kind of flowers you’ll plant in your yard.
    You can do it alone, virtue and vision,
    but two to six players make it fun.
    Shut your eyes and see the people
    inside your little green house, the ones
    who make this repeat trip around,
    around the square worthwhile.
    Imagine the hotel upgrade
    when you’ve cornered the market
    on your Lovopoly. Happiness,
    a get-out-of-jail-free card
    that never expires.

    – Kim Mannix
    http://www.makesmesodigress.com

  7. De Jackson

    Laundry

    The washer and dryer do most of the work
    (the folding sucks, just a little.)
    Putting it away is a whole ’nother story,
    but there really is no riddle.

    Still, I’ve got quite a quandary.
    See here’s the problem to it:
    you’re still making dirty laundry
    unless you’re naked while you do it.

    ::

  8. Uma

    Incandescent, I glow
    when you turn me on

    I burn at your command

    You wait till I turn red hot
    Then, with a cruel flick
    of heartless fingers,

    you vanish

    leaving me
    the impossible task
    of turning myself off

  9. Summerspoet

    Welcome

    Please sit… yes, please do,
    and, if you’re able do more than read,
    sink between each word as you might sink
    into the cushions of a favorite sofa,
    douse your thoughts with this ink,

    listening to that letter’s purr
    and this letter’s growl.
    Dragons breathe here,
    parading, with unicorns and gremlins,
    through meadows festooned

    with golden flowers,
    around trees, grim with age and thought,
    over hills that cushion the sun’s
    tumble into the promises
    of tomorrow and tomorrow.

    http://www.inkhammer.wordpress.com

  10. JRSimmang

    OFF TASK

    Wake me up
    make coffee
    shower off
    dress up doll
    foot on gas
    clock me in
    grade papers
    communicate
    inspire (yes?)

    traffic jam
    dinner time
    off to bed

    Drag me out
    make more coffee
    soap and shower
    dress up doll
    leaded foot
    clock me in
    spacing out
    mumble words
    inspire (yes?)

    traffic jam
    set the plates
    laughs and smiles
    tickle war
    off to bed

    Eyes closed shut
    drip drip drip
    drip drip drip
    necktie rodeo
    flashing lights
    tick tock tick
    100s
    send emails
    inspire (hah!)

    traffic jam

    set the table with fruits and salads
    stuff our faces with memories
    read a book or two
    begrudgingly
    off to bed
    because
    of yawns and winks
    and desires to dream
    of tomorrow

    Wake me up
    make coffee
    shower off
    mow the lawn
    summer shandy
    water park
    sunshine bingo
    sandlot wrestling
    weekend days
    summer longing
    heat and passion
    and us.

    -JR Simmang

  11. Danielle Robinson

    Out of Bed

    I gotta do a lot of things today.
    I gotta a lot of things cartwheeling
    and jump roping through my mind.
    I gotta bend to pray and jump for joy while
    watching the sun peek through the clouds
    as I lift my window to listen to the birds sing me a song,
    and the wind walk against my bronze skin.
    I gotta wash my face. Brush my teeth.
    I gotta warm the kettle.
    Cut the lemon.
    Stir the raw berry honey.
    Scoop it twice into my vanilla chamomile tea.
    I gotta spread brown sugar cream cheese on my grain bagel.
    Make my strawberries and bananas fruit cup.
    I gotta log on to see today’s poetry prompt.
    I gotta check the morning news.
    I gotta find words of inspiration
    after hearing the world’s morning blues.
    I gotta shower, get dress, and redo my halo twist.
    I gotta seal my skin with cocoa butter and matte my soft lips.
    I gotta blow me a kiss. Hell, I may even take a selfie.
    I gotta grab my flash drive.
    I gotta grab my agenda and check my Google Calendar.
    I gotta grab my umbrella just in case it rain.
    I gotta warm my car while listening to Kendrick Lamar’s D_ _ _ album.
    And D___mit, it’s the best of all times.
    I gotta get gas on the way to the research lab.
    I gotta check email, respond, and take calls.
    I gotta walk from building to building,
    and down some more halls.
    I gotta meet this person and that person.
    I gotta pay my water bill and phone bill.
    I gotta research some scholar literature.
    I gotta write some scholar literature.
    I gotta write the poem for the day.
    I gotta text my parents and respond back to
    some friends— just to see if they are ok.
    I gotta update two manuscripts.
    I gotta grab lunch along the way.
    I gotta check the afternoon news.
    I gotta find more inspiration
    after hearing more of the world’s blues.
    I gotta do more work, work, work.
    I gotta exercise too.
    I gotta write more for a project
    before I can really relax tonight.
    I gotta get keep smiling and improving.
    But first, let me get out of bed
    and get right!

    Taking one day to
    Accomplish anything by
    Staying focus &
    Keeping positive.

    —Danielle C. Robinson

  12. candy

    Spring Cleaning

    mister moon is in the midst of
    spring cleaning, sweeping away
    the stardust from under
    the milky way, putting moonbeams

    Into jars, and polishing the stars
    that lost their glow over winter
    worn-out, droopy clouds are blown apart
    to be replaced with fluffy new ones

    in shapes of snails and dragons and
    pirate ships hung from wishes
    in the clear night sky each constellation
    is gently nudged back into place

    and as the dark begins to wane a
    weary moon closes his eyes
    and smiles

  13. Jrentler

    Wild Violets

    there’s the best coast
    & the pilgrims crest
    & betwix this vice?

    the middle

    where within fields
    wild violets too spring
    petals dripping bubbling ink

  14. MET

    A novel task

    Some days I regret the day
    Sardis Runion entered my life.
    She first whispered to me;
    I have a tale to tell
    That might just be worth telling.
    This was long before she
    Revealed me her name.
    On long drives, up and down the state
    She often kept me company.
    Telling which route to take
    As I told her tale
    Of her path to forgiveness.
    One day I passed an old Baptist Church,
    And she said that is my front name.
    A year later I passed a street sign, and
    She cackled that is my back name.
    After that time, she has bugged me
    Until I sat down to tell this
    Tale she said needs telling.
    At odd moments, she reminds me
    Don’t forget about me,
    I need you to keep writing, and
    She keeps this novel going.
    I have learned she makes soup,
    And quilts in a cabin, and
    There is cliff she stands
    On while she prays for guidance daily,
    And every once in a while
    She likes whiskey to swig, and
    To sit outside in the moonlight
    To watch the stars dancing.
    I think one day
    When her tale is finally told,
    I will miss her stubborn ways,
    And how she annoys me
    By saying it is time
    You get back to the task
    Of telling of my story.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 20, 2017

  15. Eileen S

    The Paperwork

    Keeping the paperwork straight
    Crossing I’s; dotting T’s.
    Making sure that everything is in order.

    Reviewing tax returns. Matching income
    with returns. Is everything in order?
    Have they been audited in the past?
    Do the numbers add up?

    I have to make a decision.
    Do I accept the return as filed?
    Do I select it to be audited?

    If I make one decision,
    I have to follow certain procedures.
    If I make another decision,
    I have to follow different procedures.

    Of course the paperwork has to be in order.
    I have to take the time to do it right.
    Such is the life of a tax auditor.

  16. carolemt87

    Mendin’ Fence

    Come my neighbor,
    our fence needs a-mendin’
    some minor a-tendin’,
    a pile of stones rolled over
    all a-tumblin’
    kicked by my pony or
    by the north gale
    strewn rocks on the grass
    and graveled trail.

    Here, let me help you
    lift that stone
    keep our flocks from roamin’
    not a-wanderin’ away
    far from home.

    Pile ‘em straight
    and stack ‘em true
    our hands a-speedin’ to fix
    an old stone fence
    which sews our lives forever
    apart
    together.

    Carol Carpenter
    (I rarely write rhyming poetry, unless it occurs in the process, as this one did.)

  17. timphilippart

    Task Blaster, Order Now

    Ankle deep in retirement,
    sloshing through life,
    valiantly resisting the list
    that enslaved his existence,
    he creates,
    the anti-task list.

    Simply make a
    non-exhaustive list of
    all those not-to-do things or,
    conveniently download
    the anti-task app and
    watch tasks digitally explode.

    Coming soon,
    the Task Blaster.
    Tasks fall like Space Invaders,
    your task, sorry, is to blast them
    before to-do’s touch down and
    take over your life force

  18. lsteadly

    Outside

    the robins
    search for worms
    in grass greening beneath
    their orange breasts,
    while inside,
    you place each capsule
    carefully
    into the correct slot
    of the pillbox
    so that he may see summer

    1. lsteadly

      here’s a revised version:

      Outside

      the robins
      search for worms
      in grass greening
      beneath their orange breasts
      while inside,
      she places each capsule
      into the pillbox
      where all he sees is blue

  19. Kay Butzin

    MONDAY WAS WASHDAY
    Before bed on Sunday night, Mom sorted the laundry. “If you have anything that needs to be washed, get it out here!” she would yell from the utility room. Then before breakfast on Monday, she filled the washer with pots of scalding water she heated on the kitchen stove and pieces of soap shaved from a Fels-Naptha soap bar. The white load would be followed by light-coloreds and, finally, darks. After they agitated to her satisfaction, she would lift the steaming garments into the rinse tubs with a sawed-off broom handle and run each through the wringer two times to squeeze out as much water as possible. She clothes-pinned them to lines she strung between poles and cottonwood tree trunks to dry. And when they were, she would sprinkle water on them again and roll them up in the laundry basket for ironing day on Tuesday.

  20. serenevannoy

    It’s a chore, this loving,
    sometimes, it is,
    with doctor visits and late-night
    anxiety,
    phone calls that go too long
    as you perseverate,
    dream up catastrophe,
    real
    unreal.
    It’s an admixture
    of onerous tasks,
    of work,
    of things I’d rather not have to do,
    and yet

    when your voice sounds on the line,
    or that ping on my cellphone
    or I see your face, lined with years
    of laughing with me as we laugh at ourselves,
    my heart thinks I’m young again
    and the tasks
    are nothing,
    and I
    want
    the
    work

  21. taylor graham

    TASK

    How to put yesterday in a book – soggy walk across meadow after so much rain, peculiar turquoise tint of runoff into ponds; the search among last year’s brittle gray to find a trail I’ve never hiked, down-canyon – green along the creek that winks and glints its living eye when I surprise it at a trail-bend. Detour on paths cut through berry bramble away and back to that secretive creek, to find the abandoned mine behind its veils of rock-rooted fern. I won’t go in. Did I wish to feel what draws men underground? One iPad photo as proof, and I resumed my trail, hugging hillside keeping compass of the creek, water that gives this place life.

    sunlight damped through pines –
    sky filtered green enchanted
    as forest in dream

  22. jennfel

    ‘Water Blessing’

    At dawn’s first crack
    Step into kitchen
    Spy near empty
    Filtered water pitcher
    Berate husband
    Under my breath
    For ignoring it again
    Remember images
    Of women in Africa
    Carrying heavy water jugs
    Upon their heads for miles
    Under the intense sun
    Smile at my good fortune
    Reach to turn on the tap

  23. Daniel Paicopulos

    Cooking Bliss

    I love to cook
    especially for friends.
    There’s the food, of course,
    the stories we tell,
    and before an evening ends,
    I simply feel satisfied,
    where in the past,
    I’d feel stress.
    There’s a simple reason
    for this emotion,
    my gustatory happiness.
    I’ve learned to take my time,
    the secrets of mis en place,
    a sip of the cooking wine,
    well, maybe an entire glass.
    But mostly what it is,
    the core of my cooking bliss:
    when I peel the potatoes,
    I peel the potatoes.
    When I cut the tomatoes,
    I cut the tomatoes.
    When I stir the soup,
    I stir the soup.
    When I chop the greens,
    I chop the greens.
    That’s all it takes,
    so it seems.

  24. thunk2much

    Day’s work

    Sometimes

    the hardest thing,

    the only thing,

    I can accomplish

    in a day

    is breathing

    in and out

    in spite of

    the crushing

    lack of will,

    in spite of

    the voices

    (no, not real voices)

    telling me

    in whispers

    that everyone

    really will be

    better off

    when I’m

    gone.

  25. Margot Suydam

    Past Time

    Far-a-way smack of ball on bat
    the crackling voice on the radio
    no cow bells nor bleacher yells

    just the lull of a Sunday game
    spread wide through the dark
    driving us home to Hoboken

    I dream up those first leg-striped
    boys, who once divided the park
    into diamonds, playing for fathers

    mothers setting early dinner tables
    in one packed row house or another
    their ears always keen to the street.

  26. MET

    Soapy Water

    Two years ago
    My dishwasher broke, and
    Could not afford a new one.
    But I have two hands
    That work just fine
    My day often begins
    Or ends in soapy sinks
    Of hot water.
    I probably could splurge
    On one of those fancy
    Contraptions
    That I used to think
    Was a necessary
    Invention.
    I have found in these
    Two years a moment
    Of quiet washing each dish
    Helps me clear
    The thoughts for the day.
    I now understood
    Why my mother
    Did not mind
    Washing her dishes by hand.
    Sometimes I think
    As look out at the
    Same trees growing
    How much I wished
    That I would have asked
    What thoughts she
    Had as she handled each dish
    In the sink of soapy water.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 20, 2017

  27. Daniel Paicopulos

    Just Beneath Our Busy Lives

    wondrous things await,
    lesser ones as well,
    visible to the open eye, the willing heart,
    not hiding at all, if we choose.
    Just beneath that stop for groceries,
    a chance to make someone’s day,
    to thank that clerk, mention their name,
    grateful for their work, letting them know.
    Just beneath that amber light,
    a chance to slow, to pause,
    making it a smile moment,
    letting go the held breath, the tension,
    every moment a choice.
    Just beneath that daily chore,
    a chance to notice large small things,
    that shining plate, sparkling floor,
    the dust-free shelf, your happy child.
    Just beneath that illness,
    a chance to heal, to rest,
    to think about what’s coming,
    in this life and the next,
    a chance to choose to be here now,
    present moment, wonderful moment.

  28. Anthony94

    Full Circle

    I learned to take myself
    to task when there was no
    one else to do it. Supposed
    it was the way to drive and
    goad the donkey and weren’t
    we all born worthless with
    those idle hands and devilish
    tendencies. And so I made
    endless lists, weeks and months
    into the future, tacked five-year
    plans to the walls and worked
    backward. Transferred tasks
    from day to day the way
    she’d planned our lives since
    birth: Monday, Tuesday, same
    day every week for laundry,
    ironing, cleaning, baking,
    groceries and impossible to
    discuss deviation. Could it be
    why now I’m easily bored with
    any repetition, even driving to
    and from town, different day,
    different road? I have to take
    myself to task more and more
    to get anything done at all.

    1. MET

      love this… and my mother had a good friend who did that for her sons and she told her friend once.. you should not do that for them because you are just making it hard on some other woman one day.

  29. bxpoetlover

    Tasks

    The best people are the ones
    who clean up, who see the aftermath
    of the careless, the selfish,
    the violent storms.
    Because they sweep, scrub, rinse, tote away
    damage, debris, sometimes the dead,
    we all may have a modicum of peace, beauty

  30. Jason L. Martin

    Liver & Onions

    boy said mom I don’t like the way it looks
    and mom said boy I don’t like your face
    when you make that expression at the mere
    suggestion of liver & onions for dinner.

    boy asked mom what’s a liver anyway
    and mom said boy don’t ask such questions
    if I put it in front of you then you eat it
    and no dessert for you unless it’s all gone.

    (Clean plate clubs notwithstanding
    liver & onions is a delicacy far from outstanding,
    As I think I have mentioned through this reflection.
    But you know, tastes meld and mold as we get old.)

    doctor said man I don’t like the way it looks
    and man said doc I don’t like your face
    are you telling me I need a new liver?
    and then the man’s eyes looked like they smelled onions.

    man asked doc what’s a liver to me anyway
    and doc said there’s no time for such questions.
    you should have eaten your liver & onions as a boy
    and man said doc, cook me up your best damn version.

  31. tripoet

    Got Mail

    It
    starts with
    two then three.
    Before you know it
    there’s four looking at you.
    It’s as though numbers grow exponentially.
    After awhile I am more concerned with how quantity
    supersedes the quality on the screen, buried personal messages.
    Another free Norwegian cruise, discounted ink cartridges- 30% off perfume,
    I don’t even use. Non-stick frying pans. Military grade flash-lights. Walk-in bath tubs,
    and so many more. I’m spending more time removing than reading . I just want them to go away.
    Select All-
    Delete

  32. Pat Walsh

    Taskmaster Ace
    By Patrick J. Walsh

    the Ace told the King
    he could do any thing
    and implied he would
    always be up to the task:

    “whenever you’re faced
    with climb hunt or chase
    just think first of me –
    you have only to ask”

    to Jack and the Queen
    the Ace quite obscene
    seemed a threat
    to monarch and heirs

    they pleaded and pled:
    “bad in black, worse in red”
    but the King felt his
    wile better than theirs

    he went to the Ace
    to broaden the space
    where the peasants came
    to worship the crown:

    “you ought not complain”
    and his smile remained
    up to the moment the
    house came tumbling down

      1. Pat Walsh

        I love this, Linda – what a wonderful task to take on, and to adapt to poetry. And for what it’s worth, I actually thought the word was “sumptuous” when I first read it, & now I’m thinking of how happy the birds would be, either way 🙂

  33. Bruce Niedt

    Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem using the language or jargon of a particular sport. The obvious choice for me would be my favorite sport, baseball, but I’ve written a whole book full of baseball poems. (Hits and Sacrifices, available from Finishing Line Press – how’s that for a shameless plug?) So today I’m writing about a different sport: romance.

    Tennis, Anyone?

    My task is to court you.
    I’m serving you compliments
    but you just lob them back.
    This back-and-forth doesn’t seem
    to net me anything so far.
    Maybe I need more topspin.
    We’re playing singles now,
    not mixed doubles.
    This game seems to go on
    forever. You’re set in your ways,
    and I seem no match for you.
    What’s your racket?
    I’m already past thirty, love,
    but I’ll keep smashing away.
    Maybe I’ll ace it,
    maybe I ‘ll double-fault,
    but you are worth the effort.
    It should be no surprise
    that “volley” is an anagram
    for “lovely.”

  34. Joseph Hesch

    Calling Time When You’re Down 0-365

    I remember those nights
    that edged into day where
    I’d sit, pencil in hand,
    pondering how to overcome
    that day’s opponent…
    every night, every day, too.
    Obsession and fear kept me
    drawing up new tactics that might
    steal a victory once the clock
    started running. Should we press
    from tip-off to buzzer, trying
    to impose our weak will to turn
    them aside from our goal?
    No, that’s a task too difficult
    to accomplish one-on-one. Inevitably,
    we’d opt for a passive defense,
    hoping to shield and slow them from
    getting inside. But that merely
    prolonged the inevitable, just like
    every other time. I’d crawl off
    to bed, resigned to another defeat
    in this seemingly endless season
    of losses. It’s record was 365-0 and
    I couldn’t take the losing anymore.
    It was then I admitted, pride be damned,
    I’d ask for help. Even I couldn’t beat
    Depression alone.

  35. Piddleville

    My Task

    I was given a task
    when I was born.
    I don’t know what it is.
    I didn’t bother to ask.
    It didn’t seem that important,
    not at the time,
    but the older I get
    the more that I wonder,
    what is the task,
    the one I’ve been given?
    And can I complete it?
    Will I have time?

    Someone once told me,
    “Believe in Jesus.”
    Someone else told me,
    “Do not believe
    in Jesus. Believe
    the things that he said.”
    They said that’s the way
    to complete my task.
    But they didn’t say
    what the task was,
    so how can I finish
    what I don’t know?
    And why will no one
    say what it is?

    I was given a task.
    Don’t ask me what.
    I still don’t know
    what my task is.
    Sometimes I wonder
    if figuring it out
    might be the task,
    the one I’ve been given.

    wlw

  36. MichelleMcEwen

    Writing Poetry

    Somehow
    suddenly

    writing
    poetry

    doesn’t seem
    to matter anymore

    especially

    when your heart
    broke

    and your head
    hurt

    from too much
    memories

    cryin
    and no sleep

    and all you ever
    want to write about

    anyway

    is his backseat

    and the butterfliiiieeees.

  37. Linda Rhinehart Neas

    For Love

    Where others saw only drudgery,
    she envisioned multiple ways
    to demonstrate what heart held
    like a treasure chest filled or
    a secret vault discovered –
    Daily tasks were jewels and gems
    lavished over her beloveds.
    Her coffers overflowed with riches
    more valuable than Midas’ horde,
    more priceless than Michelangelo’s art.

  38. PressOn

    RUBBISH DISPOSAL

    Take out the trash;
    day after day, her husband hears
    “take out the trash.”
    Then, one day, she does something rash:
    she hires some younger volunteers.
    Now her old spouse awaits and fears,
    “take out the trash.”

  39. Joseph Hesch

    An Afternoon in No-Man’s Land

    The wild bramble bush has defeated me for years,
    defending itself with twisted wire vines and thorns
    like wildcat claws. It’s stalks and branches
    laughed off mere garden shears and sorely tested
    the metal mettle of long-handled pruners.

    It tries disguising its natural malevolence
    with dainty pink blossoms come spring and summer,
    as well as musical accompaniment from humming
    honey bee acolytes.

    This year the gloves came off when I pulled
    my leather gloves on, fighting claws with
    the teeth of a chainsaw. With chain whining and
    motor roaring I winnowed the suburban Maginot Line
    down by its flanks, nearly to its side-hill foundation.

    I then called an immediate cease-fire.

    There, deep within the once-impregnable, are
    two entrance holes into the den of an animal
    who felt the need for the jagged protection
    of my bushy bête noire for its newborn own.

    That’s when this ruthless flora-felling homeowner
    was himself hewn down by my own nature as
    pater familias. I’ve gone soft in my old age.
    Even semi-merciless backyard generals have families.
    I can always wait to finish after Father’s Day.

    1. SharylAnn

      I know that Bush that devil clawed vine … You my friend were brave to take on that fight and compassionate in your final decision … Now to find my task for today!

  40. PowerUnit

    A Task Is

    A task is a measure
    of good and bad
    and whether
    money is to be had.

    A task is a target
    imagined for the benefit
    of bottom lines
    and leaders with no spines.

    A task connects dots,
    while the truths
    do not fit in slots,
    but defy definition.

    A task is a shackle,
    a chain on your purse;
    we can’t be doing our own thing,
    could there be anything worse?

    A task is a plan
    to remove metaphor
    from the human
    equation.

  41. Jezzie

    LAWN MOWING

    Years ago I got rid of all my grass
    because I hated doing the mowing
    but now I’ve moved to a new house
    with lawns that will not stop growing.

    To change grass for gravel and bark
    as soon as I can is my plan
    but I need to do the heavy work
    a reputable landscaping man.

    So I emailed several companies
    to find someone for the work I ask
    but I’ve yet to receive any replies
    from anyone who wants the task

    Well, it’s a fine day with no sign of rain
    so out with my mower I’ll go again.

  42. Janet Rice Carnahan

    A LIFE OF PLAY

    Growing up
    In an amusement park family
    Play came easily
    Fun, laughter,
    Joy the morning after
    Birthday parties galore
    Left them wanting more
    Leading to a career in preschool
    More light-hearted joy
    Play time every day
    A way of life
    Defined, not refined
    Until I met a man
    Who had never really laughed
    To him, play was frivolous
    Tedious and meaningless
    I put myself to the task
    To ask
    If he’d like to learn to play
    Fresh air every day
    And what did he say
    Play is not work
    Fun and games are not hard to do
    They aren’t serious enough
    My life and career takes focus
    Dedication and effort
    He put me to the task
    To grow up
    Take everything way too seriously
    Until I couldn’t breathe
    Until I couldn’t play
    Until I realized who I am
    And I remembered
    Laughter matters
    Play matters
    Joy is essential
    Then I knew
    My real task
    My life long search was to just be myself
    To play in the wind again
    Feeling grateful
    That being happily playful
    Remains forever
    My greatest task of all

COMMENT