2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 21

For today’s prompt, pick an object (any object), make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles could include: “Toothbrush,” “Rake,” “Pilot G2 Premium Gel Roller Pen,” or any number of other objective titles. Have fun with 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 an Object Poem:

“Dexter Maxi Load Thoroughbred 600 Commercial Washer”

such a big silver machine
with a small astronaut window
revealing a quick spin to the left
& a tumble to the right
all my clothes so clean
so bright


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 had to use the laundromat yesterday after his washing machine at home started leaking water.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


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384 thoughts on “2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 21

  1. Jane Shlensky

    Mama’s Watch

    How delicate they made these old watches,
    ornamental, silver filigree, its face the size
    of a dime, its numbers and hands barely
    legible to aging eyes, but as jewelry,
    it was lovely on a slender wrist.

    Her young wrists grew thick and gnarled
    as tap roots, muscled as wisteria,
    her hands and arms, legs and back
    a working woman’s frame
    planting, cultivating, reaping, raising
    children, animals, crops, flowers.
    If asked the time, she’d lift her eyes,
    locate the sun, consider shadows’ length,
    and get it right within five minutes.

  2. mschied


    If the gods are trying to
    test me
    they have outdone themselves in
    Our harmonizing brainwaves
    communicate on another plane
    when the tenor sings, it is to
    one soul
    two entwining in an
    intellectual maze
    the entrance imperceptible
    with no way
    even your name
    bears the imprint of destiny’s
    calling card
    I have not
    the strength
    the will
    the courage
    to deny
    I have failed
    and will suffer for it
    I think

  3. artifiswords


    You’ve ridden Dodgem cars…right?
    Well I had the truck version…
    In 1956, Dodge made the perfect truck
    The front looked like a Dodgem car…
    So after the letters D-O-D-G-E
    I added a tiny chromed M
    4 on the floor and bucket seats
    They weren’t cool in ’56…
    Just part of a bare bones truck
    A truck with attitude
    There’s a downside to most stories
    As much as I liked my Town Panel
    Real life required more reliable wheels
    I sold it with regret…
    Regret that never went away

    © 2017 Robert Mihaly

    Posted to:

  4. lily black

    Claudia’s Guitar

    was handed over freely
    without question or promise
    that Big Baby
    placed in my arms where it was meant to be!
    the first strum sounded like church
    My hands no longer search for a home
    in some deep dark pocket
    They are home holding down strings
    until my mouth screams Yeeouch
    The callouses are forming though
    That Big Baby keeps on calling
    and I have got to GO!

  5. Laura T

    (because life and death happen, and you think you’re keeping up, but it turns out you’ve lost a week, so now you write a lot to finish, hopefully strong, but finish, because something has to feel complete, when you don’t) 5 of 10 in one day.

    Safe Download

    A program on your computer
    We didn’t know was there
    Explains why the computer tech
    Could buy the good Comic-con tickets
    After meeting you, through us
    As we took your desktop tower
    To be part of his techno sky-scrapers.
    Untangled of their hard drive intestines
    To find the virus that you download,
    That you swore you couldn’t have downloaded,
    Because it was “safe” to do that now.
    We didn’t understand because we didn’t know
    That you didn’t realize
    Just because it says “safe” in the name,
    Doesn’t mean it is
    Perhaps we didn’t want to see the simple
    Childhood ideas you were missing
    Now we know
    You thought you were safe,
    Now we’re glad
    We were there to protect you
    When there was danger
    We never saw.
    Damn cyber creeps

  6. LCaramanna

    Carry-on Bag

    I travel with excess baggage,
    multiple pairs of underwear,
    extra shirts and shoes,
    a sweater
    a coat, an umbrella
    just in case,
    all neatly packed
    in a carry-on bag.
    whatever may arise,
    I travel with excess baggage,
    though I long to lighten the load
    and set out on a great adventure
    with nothing to carry
    but cash and a credit card.
    Lorraine Caramanna

  7. mayboy

    Mascara Max Factor

    Long lashes, dark circles,
    a blink of an eye sparks
    a long time passion lost in
    a lonely heart of fashion.
    Black, brown or blue prolong
    the curve to the admirer’s view.

  8. BDP

    Sijo #21: Computer

    Your watch stretches on a thick urn neck—the face peers at me.
    Each keyboard punch a tick, my two hands move around the hours.
    I couldn’t type your story if I had twice your length of years.

  9. Shennon

    Baby Hippo Giggles

    He wobbles side to side
    When he trots with his mum
    Playing in water
    His life is quite fun

    Playing chase is fun
    Rolling in water
    Asleep next to his mum
    His grin stretching side to side.


  10. SharylAnn


    My weakness
    My passion
    From the time I was
    a toddler shoes were
    my life

    All kinds of shoes
    I love them all

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

  11. hohlwein


    The mirror reflects the bucket its in,
    reflects the movement of the light
    as it bounces and softens and lessens

    No face has been seen there for awhile
    Maybe the back of the head
    that – confirmed – still needs a cut

    But the mirror speaks truth
    too fluently
    Why should it not, instead,
    reflect light, perfectly, in exquisite detail,
    which is not vain, nor lonesome
    nor aging hard.

  12. Angie5804

    This building with its multicolored panes
    That tell the stories of the saints of old
    The highly polished wooden pews that creak
    These pews that hold the sheep within the fold

    This structure built upon a little hill
    Though humble brick, within a message bold
    Is spoken there for all who come to hear
    The sweetest story that has e’er been told

    This house of worship gathers saints who sing
    Clear voices lifted up, God is extolled
    Melodious and reverent the refrain
    Amazing grace abounds in this stronghold

  13. Domino


    Yes, my pretty,
    my fragrant, beautiful,
    leather-bound darling.
    What will your words impart
    today? What new knowledge
    or sweet delight, or fresh horror
    await me in your pages?

  14. DMK

    Earl Grey Tea

    earl grey tea
    reminds me
    to slow and drink
    gives me time to think
    relax take a breath
    before making another mess
    bergamot a calming scent for me
    lucky it comes in earl grey tea
    for a moment I can simply be
    my internal battery refilled
    before walking again up the steep hill

  15. DanielAri

    “Words abstract some things much too far.” (Trigger warning, maybe? I hope not.)

    Let me start by saying I feel like government by the people and for the people
    should collect and spend money to support the people, and not just the rich,
    but even the poor; and that since most people want peace along with life,
    liberty and pursuit of happiness, the government should always focus on
    making those things more accessible to all, even to the poor, is my opinion.

    But my view is that these beliefs are not the beliefs of the government now,
    and I can’t explain what is because I don’t understand how any leader
    can willfully want to limit peace, rights and access to things that I think
    that most people think are important. But it is what it is, and I get upset.

    So I made a little channel for my upset and disappointment, indeed, my rage,
    and I put things there in a fictionalized voice, the voice someone who feels delight
    when bombs fall and fundamental jealousy if the government supports others
    more than he. And I have channeled my rage into highly sarcastic posts,
    I see them as reductio ad absurda. A lot of people get what I’m doing there.

    But some people get to my channel and think I’m being serious,
    and this really surprises me. My first thought is that these people must be
    stupid and mean. Then I click their names and I see the kind of rhetoric
    in their channels that I make fun of, embodying sarcastically as an alter ego
    in order to purge my rage. Now stick with me a moment. Take a breath.

    I’m amazed that people who understand my channel as reactionary and people
    who understand it as radical both have channels of their own that show
    them to be loving, kind, happy people who spend time with friends and family
    and wish the best for themselves, their families, their countries and their world.

    Rhetoric is nothing but a crazy distraction. If only it didn’t feel so good in the body
    to dwell in our rage, shouting and chanting and writing in all caps. People are
    better than we let ourselves believe. My channel is doing more than I expected.

  16. Monique

    I wanted to write a better poem than yesterday, so…

    Vinyl Records

    Exploring a new sound
    The clicks, the pops,
    the scratches.
    Music fills the room
    in a way you haven’t heard
    in a very long time.

    Whether it’s a little Glenn Miller
    or Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours
    or Elvis Presley rocking the house,
    the old songs sound cool
    in that vintage, retro kind of way.

  17. Jacqueline Hallenbeck


    i think it’s time we parted ways
    we’ve had a good five years
    walked side by side most nights and days
    so it is with heartfelt tears
    that I tell you (though it’s quite a blow)
    this news! this joy! i’m free!
    my relationship with Vertigo
    is no more. be glad for me.

  18. Alphabet Architect


    Please just give me a computer
    That does what I want it to do
    And doesn’t ask much of me
    Except to turn it on, thank you.
    User friendly? User devoted maybe –
    With memory bytes plus insight.
    Much evidence exists
    That computers are magic, right?
    Just give me one that can read my mind.

  19. drwasy


    The t-shirt arrived yesterday
    in an envelope marked rush;
    the amazon prime delivery dude
    handed it to me with a smile

    I ripped open the Tyvek &
    held the asphalt-colored shirt:

    in red & blue, nice contrast
    to the gray background, & I
    slipped it on, happy & proud

    until I wished I didn’t need
    to spend another $20
    on another shirt protesting

    the dumbing down & messing
    up of my country.

  20. drwasy

    My Saeco Super-automatic

    stands shiny, stolid
    stainless steel & plastic
    red light flashing
    its welcome in the
    pitch of early morn

    Milk froths, a hiss
    of steam, the pump pounds
    out a heartbeat
    until caffeine releases,
    a stream of brown gold.

    Crema rises, a stain
    on perfect white, &
    my cup and I retreat
    to write another poem.

  21. claudia marie clemente

    Thinking about this prompt is like trying to not think about a pink elephant.

    Elizabeth Bishop’s One Art, one of my favorite pieces of all time, just totally blocks me.

    …so many things seem filled with the intent
    to be lost that their loss is no disaster….


  22. Jrentler

    Frappe D’Unicorn

    when that first Polynesian
    washed ashore

    lips scuttling the pebbles
    dragging the beached carcass of man

    to that the breezy song
    of fronds and shade
    atop swaying

    “the reed
    which gives honey
    without bees,”

    did he believe
    a god’s guidance
    rode high atop
    a horned-beast?

    so pinch to purse
    & take to that straw
    like a babe to breast

    slurp up the Maghetto
    crowned de le crème
    with a drizzle of dyglyceride
    & a pinch of pink powder

    feel the buzz of life

    1. Jrentler

      sorry corrected:

      Frappe D’Unicorn

      when that first Polynesian
      washed ashore

      lips scuttling the pebbles
      dragging the beached carcass of man

      to the breezy song
      of fronds and shade
      atop swaying

      “the reed
      which gives honey
      without bees,”

      did he believe
      a god’s guidance
      rode high atop
      a horned-beast?

      so pinch to purse
      & take to that straw
      like a babe to breast

      slurp up the Maghetto
      crowned de le crème
      with a drizzle of dyglyceride
      & a pinch of pink powder

      feel the buzz of life

  23. Austin Hill

    PAD #21

    YOU are the objects of my affections.

    I like…
    I admire…
    I’m smitten with…
    I adore…
    I appreciate…
    I’m mad for…
    I cherish…
    I fancy…
    I’m partial to…

    I think the world of….
    I’m crazy about….

    I love…
    YOU, the object of my affection.

    © April 2017 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

  24. Sara McNulty

    Chinese Fan

    I never use you for what
    you are intended. Round,
    bright colors on a white
    background, ornamentation
    has become your lot in life.
    I do look at you every day,
    on your wooden stick, placed
    inside a blue ceramic wine glass,
    balanced on a corner
    of my dresser. I do not
    feel pressured to cool
    myself with your charm,
    as an air conditioner
    is more practical. Still,
    I love my little Chinese fan.

  25. Bruce Niedt

    Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem that incorporates overheard speech.

    Game Card

    “No, I don’t play that game,” says the woman
    in front of me at the supermarket checkout line.
    I tell the cashier that I do, and she hands me
    two cards for their sweepstakes, one for me
    and one for the woman who declined.
    The top prize is a million bucks, but so far
    I haven’t won anything, despite bringing dozens
    of them home in the last two months.

    The first card nets me nothing – no prize,
    which is no surprise. I tear the second one open,
    folding down the side tabs to make it easier
    to rip the perforations, then pulling it apart
    so it opens like a booklet. The left side is
    a fifty-cent coupon – no big deal. The right side has,
    as usual, four little game pieces that I must also
    tear apart and paste to a game board that looks like
    a Monopoly game, to see if any combination of them
    wins a prize. And they do.

    I don’t know if this is the card that would have gone
    to the woman in front of me, but I would like
    to thank her for not playing, and thank the store too,
    for this wonderful gift. I’m the proud winner
    of a gift certificate to the supermarket.
    It’s not the grand prize, but it gives me a sense
    of accomplishment. After all these weeks of playing,
    after all the pieces I’ve collected and glued to the board,
    after all those shopping trips and thousands of dollars’
    worth of groceries, I have finally, finally won –
    five bucks.

  26. Maria Grace


    “The pen is mightier than the sword.”
    So goes the saying. It might be true,
    But I have held and wielded both –
    The Warrior Poet was common once.
    For Sword and Pen both cut as hard
    At complacency. Both defend
    (If Ink and Iron have any worth)
    The Sacred and the Simple things.
    And Deed is counterpoint of Word:
    If Pen be worth the Ink it spills,
    Then must Goodness, Beauty, Truth,
    Be lived and loved – even to Death.

  27. DanielAri


    This point
    made barely pressing

    addressing a letter
    easy as laser print,

    integral to my hand,
    near as a nail.

    The failure of keys
    to flow graphic

    abstracted glyphs

    un-uniformly, informally
    dashed—no mistakes

    makes pens mightier
    than microchips

    finer tipped
    is the point.

  28. cari.resnick07


    Pages torn
    Cover worn

    My heavy book
    Open it up and take a look

    God’s love story written for me and you
    Not just to be read in your church pew

    In it are the answers to life’s questions big and small
    Read, pray, listen for God’s call

    He may tell you what you want to hear
    Or He may not, but have no fear

    For He will always equip you for what lays ahead
    Even on the days you don’t want to get out of your bed

    So if you are wrestling with a question in your life
    Don’t allow it to cause you strife

    My heavy book has the answers you need
    Open a bible, pray and read

  29. carolemt87


    Poetry is pie from
    crust to filling to topping
    quality ingredients chosen
    arranged processed condensed
    chilled cut stewed stirred
    sweetened smoothed
    fluffed piled high
    layered and baked
    then removed from the oven
    and allowed to cool
    to chill or freeze
    starch and sugar
    congealing beneath the
    golden brown crust
    fluffy meringue or
    cold whipped cream
    tempering the ingredients
    for that first cut slice and
    that perfect first bite

    Carol Carpenter
    (Tried three times to post a different poem…apparently, this site does not allow the word I chose….oh well, I have a back-up….enjoy!)

  30. carolemt87


    I should write cookbooks instead of poetry
    with glossy prints of cakes and pies
    bronzed baked chickens
    and oozing grilled
    cheese sandwiches.

    Writing recipes must be easier than
    piecing together prose and poems
    about birds and hills and trees.

    In the big box bookstore an entire wall
    displays the culinary craft of
    Giada DeLaurentis and Guy Fieri
    Ina Garten and Emeril Lagasse
    Bobby Flay and Julia Child
    recipes tested and tweaked
    tantalizing and tasty.

    You could find my cookbook
    artfully lit and perched proudly
    between The Joy of Cooking
    and Betty Crocker.

    Instead, I write poetry which
    the big box bookstore
    buries by the bathroom
    next to the children’s section
    hidden like porn
    that no one admits
    they enjoy.

    Carol Carpenter


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