2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 27

Today is Poem in Your Pocket Day; so carry around a poem in your pocket today. Or roll like me and carry a poem in your pocket every day.

For today’s prompt, use at least 3 of the following 6 words in your poem (using a word or two in your title is fine); for extra credit, try using all 6:

  • pest
  • crack
  • ramble
  • hiccup
  • wince
  • festoon

*****

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 Six-Word Poem:

“cubs win”

i don’t want to be a pest
with my little baseball ramble
but your festoon makes me wince
with every crack of the bat
a mere hiccup between one title
& the next for my cincinnati reds

*****

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 glad the Cubs broke their curse last year, but he’s ready to see his Reds get back to winning titles again.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.

*****

Find more poetic posts here:

Save

Save

You might also like:

  • No Related Posts

326 thoughts on “2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 27

  1. artifiswords

    HE’S A PEST

    Stop me please
    If I ramble
    I figure that saying
    So is a gamble
    But I think it’s worth
    Taking a crack…
    Hoping there’ll be
    No hiccup to queer it
    So stand aside while
    I steer it my way…
    If I’m lucky,
    By end of day
    No words to mince
    I’ll not need to wince
    No need to festoon him
    With deserved opprobrium
    Everyone knows he’s just a pest

    © 2017 Robert Mihaly

    Posted also to:
    https://artifiswordpresscom.wordpress.com/2017/05/08/hes-a-pest/

  2. Jane Shlensky

    Respect

    That old Rambler rumbled plenty
    before it hiccupped, moaned, and died.
    But Pops loved it, stood patting rough
    cracked paint, remembering all the girls
    he’d wooed, all the talks and joy rides.

    Gram wanted it sold for junk, a thought
    that made the old man wince as if
    she’d hit him in the gut. “This was a friend!”
    he said with more force than he meant,
    and besides, she really understood.

    That old car, bereft of tires, sits out back
    near the woods, a rusted relic, home
    for birds, snakes, bees, all sorts of pests,
    but Pops keeps weeds from growing up,
    and Gram festoons it with flowers,
    a tribute to all things beloved and lost.

  3. Shennon

    Your incessant rambling
    Always makes me wince
    Your drinking and gambling
    Have gotten worse since

    You’ve become such a pest
    At the local saloon
    You hung your family crest
    Complete with a festoon

    You hiccup and you belch
    But then a handsome smile you crack
    However will I squelch
    This dogged megalomaniac?

    –ShennonDoah

  4. lily black

    My Student

    The child finally stopped the hiccup
    convulsing her body
    at rest finally
    her tears dried slowly
    The sores on her feet
    make her wince as she rambles
    down the hot crowded street.
    She dreams of festooned hair
    But is treated like a mosquito
    A pest to be swatted away
    As her mother takes her next hit of crack.

  5. headintheclouds87

    Managed to use all 6!

    A Day in the Life of a Drunken Buffoon

    Everyone would groan as they heard
    That familiar, contemptible hiccup
    From the corner of the bar
    As they knew then he was here,
    The local sozzled old pest
    Who destroyed his liver daily
    As well as the last inch of patience
    Of any soul unfortunate enough
    To become imprisoned in his rambles
    That barely even made sense to himself.

    The patrons around him would wince,
    Some snickering away quietly
    As he’d yet again take another crack
    At charming anything that came in
    With a copious chest or short skirt,
    Only to receive a swift strike of the hand
    Or a splash of vodka to his face,
    But he wore rejection like a festoon,
    To him being an annoyance was an art form,
    The small pleasures of a drunken buffoon.

  6. SharylAnn

    Life … A Pest?

    Life is not always
    what it’s cracked
    up to be
    We ramble around
    looking for something …
    anything …
    to create beauty
    which usually becomes
    some gaudy festoon
    of glitz and glitter
    that eventually makes
    us wince with the
    attempt
    Others see right
    through us while
    waiting for that
    final hiccup …
    the one that
    proves
    what is real …
    and
    what is fake …

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

  7. mschied

    The Sound in My Ceiling

    When I hear the scrtichy scratch
    I wince and close my eyes,
    then open them a crack.
    It is the sound of my nemesis
    a platoon of pests who have made
    their nests under my roof.
    As night draws near they
    begin their nocturnal ramble
    commencing a game of what
    sounds like rodent bowling in
    my ceiling
    I have festooned my house
    with anti-mouse repellant,
    but it seems to have no effect.
    When the clitter-clatter of tiny claws
    takes a hiatus, I want to rejoice
    but inevitably, the respite lasts
    no longer than a hiccup.
    Though I don’t begrudge
    living creatures their domicile,
    the droppings are driving me demented.
    An exterminator my be my next call.

  8. mayboy

    Christmas tree hiccup

    The crowd in the mall rambled
    before the fever of the holidays
    and Christmas tree, festooned
    with shining lights, winced by
    the crack, it was Black Friday.

  9. hohlwein

    Most Endless Talker

    He is and always has been a pest.
    He opens the door, just a crack.
    And begins to talk, to ramble
    on and on and on and on. Even a hiccup
    doesn’t slow him down. He says, “Anyway, then she said…” I wince
    give up, and as he wishes, like every year, drape him in the first place festoon.

    1. ppfautsch24

      The Heart
      What a lovely pest; wrapped to hide all the
      winched cracks of heartbreaks, fears, and failure.
      Yet, it rambles on with its festooned nature, and hiccups that skip a beat, but keeps on believing.
      By Pamelap

  10. rosross

    CRACK

    Crack the moment magical,
    ramble through the past,
    find the pest of sorrow;
    wince in memory’s grasp.

    Hiccup through the thoughts,
    try to catch your breath,
    let regrets be banished;
    festoon in face of death.

  11. DMK

    Hiccup Happened

    hiccup happened
    cracking of the ribs
    stopped the air
    as well as started
    the pain ramble
    wincing at the touch
    why is there a laughing pest
    who touches anyway
    now I am festooned
    with rib wrap
    because a hiccup happenned

  12. ToniBee3

    blackboard

    you’re a crack-ing flower…

    you slip on the spit
    spat from the mouths
    of pests and wresting cliques
    through the halls of ick

    you’re a dwindl-ing tower…

    your once smiley footprints
    are now feet puling
    in the anti-you offenses so dense
    it’d make a krait snake wince

    you hiccup and cower…

    inside a square of swords
    grown-ups teach and ramble on
    your pose is ignored
    you fade into the blackboard

    you’ve considered the power…

    to festoon the beams and pins
    with your lifelessness
    and bows of chagrin
    perhaps they’d see you then
    perhaps they’d get it then
    perhaps they’d feel it then
    perhaps they’d fix it then

    perhaps they’ll mend…

    before…

    you bend

  13. saymwaHolly

    Love locks

    he started off
    on the wrong foot
    making some crack about
    Camus, little guessing
    that La Peste was her
    all-time fave

    an initial hiccup, but
    they continued
    to ramble
    along the Seine
    past the Gauloise-scented
    lovers until they reached

    the pont des arts.
    She winced as he drew
    a tiny padlock from his pocket
    to add to the 45-ton
    festoon. –Love locks nothing–
    she muttered to herself.

    Two months later both love
    and locks had vanished.

  14. nickbutterfield123@gmail.com

    Fresh Cut Grass

    We smelled as he told us that he grew
    up in his house since he was 6 years old.

    He told us he visited our house on the
    corner over 50 years ago each Halloween
    and was warmly invited inside where he
    and eventually all the neighbor kids were
    treated to hot apple cider.

    He said he was now merely a clerk at the
    City Library and collected all the local history,
    the smell of old books is sweet to some,
    I could see it in his eyes.

  15. drwasy

    ON YOUR DEMISE IN A SUMMER STORM

    We heard the crack before you fell,
    a slow motion groan, a rumble as limbs,
    then trunk surrendered to gravity,
    a hiccup of silence before the crash,
    smoke curling into dewy night.

    Early morning, you slept quiet, a baby,
    leaves & branches splayed around you.
    Did you feel heat? we wondered.
    Did you wince when the bolt
    streaked into your heart meat?

    We knew you as more than tree:
    a friend who harbored tree houses
    & swings, birds & pests, provided shade
    to lie under with books & dreams,
    last summer’s kite festooned in your branches.

  16. Jrentler

    The Pest

    puts his arm around
    crack!
    A festoon of
    dumbells
    clacks like pearls
    around her neck
    a wince
    into a
    hiccup
    into a
    shudder

    as we ramble by

  17. serenevannoy

    They took a walk most evenings,
    long, rambling,
    down Shattuck, up Strawberry Creek,
    to Upper Sproul, sometimes
    down Telegraph a ways,
    with head shops and hipster record stores
    and that great Chinese bakery,
    where you could crack open a baked bun
    and find green onions,
    or pork floss,
    or maybe a hot dog and some corn.

    Their first day in Berkeley had been magical,
    the way it was supposed to be:
    they stepped off the BART train and right into
    the Saturday market,
    drum circle pounding,
    brown-skinned women festooned with fringe and
    floating in a cloud of sticky-sweet smoke,
    up to heaven.
    Berkeley was being Berkeley, and it seduced them,
    and even after ten years in this no-longer-new place,
    after floods and pests and that time they found
    bullets
    in their Oakland driveway,
    they walked together, in daylight or dark,
    fearless,
    fresh-faced,
    alive.

  18. Catherine Conley

    A Ramble Through the Park

    A cool spring evening–
    The trees festooned with buds–
    A new season beginning–
    New life, new hope, new love–
    Off you go, to ramble
    Through the park
    Amid the green and pink and purple and yellow
    The white and red–
    The cracks in the pavement
    Showing signs of winter’s stress
    Are but a small hiccup to the
    Peace of the day, of the season–
    Don’t let the pests of spring blind you
    And cause you to wince
    And miss the beauty of the world
    Waking up to a new day.

    https://crcreateaday.wordpress.com/

COMMENT