2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 1

Time to start the 10th annual November PAD Chapbook Challenge. Let’s get poeming!

For today’s prompt, write a new day poem. Often, I think of a new day meaning a positive move in a new direction. However, it could be the opposite. Or it could be free of positive or negative connotations; instead, just being different. Or a new day that’s completely the same, I suppose. Looking forward to where everyone takes their new days.

*****

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This e-book covers more than 40 poetic forms and shares examples to illustrate how each form works.

Discover a new universe of poetic possibilities and apply it to your poetry today!

Click to continue.

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Here’s my attempt at a New Day Poem:

“& suddenly”

i had no desire for sugar
or processed foods or
anything else that might
taste good but tries to kill me

& i went for a run & lifted
weights & even sit ups
were not impossible & i
thought this is amazing

that i’m becoming this
version of myself that i
always thought i could be
until around midnight

when i gave in & had a snack
that turned into a meal that
transformed into a slide
that i hope someday will end

*****

Robert Lee Brewer

Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of the poetry collection, Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He edits Poet’s Market and Writer’s Market, in addition to writing a free weekly WritersMarket.com newsletter and a poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine.

This is his tenth year of hosting and participating in the November PAD (Poem-A-Day) Chapbook Challenge. He can’t wait to see what everyone creates this month–not only on a day-by-day basis, but when the chapbooks start arriving in December and January. Fun, fun, fun.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.

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278 thoughts on “2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 1

  1. MichelleMcEwen

    Yesterdays, New Days

    How we’d play:

    digging digging deep
    ‘til red clay

    Swinging, swinging high
    ‘til feet meet clouds

    Running, running fast
    ‘til mama calling loud

    for us
    to come inside

    Then—

    dreaming, dreaming long
    ‘til tomorrow comes

    A new day
    to play.

  2. taylor graham

    ANCIENT GRINDING ROCKS

    This hungry new morning,
    desire is the wind that blows
    across the grinding-rocks.

    Wind blows dead oak leaves
    into hollows of bedrock mortars,
    no one grinds acorns anymore.

    Call it majesty or despond,
    work of hands, arms, shoulders,
    the patient work of mind.

    In the mortars’ empty cups,
    a jumble of dead leaves,
    how many seasons falling?

    That young couple pauses –
    she with blue feather in her hair,
    he with a gold earring.

    Rain will fill the mortar cups
    as a couple holds hands,
    so many other works to do.

    1. Nancy J

      That’s lovely. I remember large boulders in our backyard in the mountains of California that had such hollows. I liked to sit on the boulders and imagine their past. You captured it perfectly.

  3. Kay Butzin

    PERCEPTION

    “It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day
    it’s a new life for me”

    we sing while we make the coffee,
    do our calisthenics, brush our teeth

    watch our news and begin to allow
    yesterday’s angers and frustrations

    and anxieties turn the new day
    into a “same-old, same-old” day

  4. Anthony94

    Ephemeral as Pumpkin Snow

    So what is this newness
    but yesterday’s rediscovery
    today’s mysteries disclosed,

    what we thought we saw,
    heard, licked from fingertips,
    breathed into our very selves

    a million strange molecules
    borne on an icy wind the stuff
    of memory, transcribed onto

    leaves already going brown along
    the edges, curling away
    like pumpkin snow melting

    on the last day of October
    I cup my palms to see
    if hands truly cradle what

    foolish and wise live for: tomorrow.

  5. Misky

    It Always Rains When the Bus Is Late

    If I take my glasses off
    I still exist, even though
    it’s dark as death outside.

    Winter’s light deflates me
    like a weak sentence missing
    punctuation, and so I stand

    below the flood of a street lamp,
    my shadow stuck to the pavement.
    I’m waiting for the bus.

    The 101 — we pronounce it
    as the-one-oooh-one.
    It’s late. The bus is. As usual.

    Maybe it’ll be on time tomorrow.
    Same schedule but new day.

  6. candy

    Morning Gloria

    morning sashays in like
    a woman in a red dress
    who knows everyone is watching
    she pushes the darkness
    into a corner where it will
    cower until the glow turns
    and strolls away

  7. rlk67

    Last of the month,
    At the end of your rope.
    First of the month,
    Renewal and hope.

    This can apply every DAY,
    You must always remember,
    Let your fears fade away,
    Don’t wait till December.

  8. Bruce Niedt

    I used Robert’s prompt today in conjunction with the word bank from this week’s Sunday Whirl blog. The bank words were try, limber, walk, shore, mist, sky, pebble, sigh, mimic, signal, pine, chime.

    Clearing the Air

    Today I’ll shake my worries free, or try –
    I’ll limber up and briskly walk the shore,
    the morning mist still breaking, and before
    the sun rolls up to dominate the sky,
    before the seagulls hail me with their cry,
    I’ll keep the pace, a mile from my front door.
    Beneath my feet, the pebbles underscore
    my rough escape, acknowledged with a sigh.
    The gulls come back to mimic my despair,
    to signal that this all will be in vain.
    I disagree. Beneath a windblown pine
    I vow this is the day I will repair
    the damage done, turn back to ease the pain,
    and like the wind, I’ll gently ring the chime.

  9. Janet Rice Carnahan

    IN HAND

    Cup of warm, sweet liquid
    I quietly
    enter the stillness outside
    relishing each early morning sound
    wonder, contemplating
    what will today bring
    singing tunes of distant birds
    chipmunks dropping pinecones
    wind slowly stirring the fall leaves
    in that moment
    I sensed a good beginning
    thinking about those simple joys,
    a fresh, new day
    finally dawned on me

  10. dittman

    Theophany

    Sweets lay smashed in the early morning light,
    wrappers still bright, touched with the night’s damp.

    I like your fathe a little ghoul lisped to me last night,
    a godling filling its bags with my candy offering.

    This morning, a passerby doubletakes
    at my facepaint that didn’t wash off.
    And his silent, knowing smile makes me
    think of you on this All Souls Day,
    and how you revealed yourself to me that night
    speaking directly to me,
    inviting me to party you had heard about
    where we sat like spectres on a beaten couch
    were we, unknowing, unknown, uninvited,
    watched two old men fighting a lover’s quarrel.

    Where did you disappear to then the next day,
    matin bells sounding for those of us left in purgatory
    my mouth hungry for yours and its taste of sour wine.

  11. Carmen Maldonado

    I’m afraid I didn’t get into the “new day” aspect until nearly the end with the dawn, but it’s there. It’s interesting where a prompt may take you, how it becomes connected to what is already on your mind.
    ——————————————–

    Savannah, Savannah,
    whose white words burned
    into the skin of apples
    rustled,

    whose little saintly feet
    chose a barbarous road,
    danced a turbulent twist,
    sank,

    whose eyes crouched
    preparing to flee,
    with a moonlight look
    stricken—

    O meadow girl
    stuck in October rain
    the bloomed you

    O ocean girl
    submerged obediently
    in the mothertides.

    Chapel odors will never touch you.
    You will never be swathed in silk.

    They took your eyes, my dew-freshened sweetheart,
    soft and starry as they were—are—
    this is the end of how dark it can get.

    I cannot name what the dawn gives
    but light, but turning, but repetition and dear one,
    especially that last – but it is not without its merits.

    In the midnight fog
    the child sighs, ah, the child
    goes to sea.

    http://wordsinyoureyes.tumblr.com/

  12. Walter J Wojtanik

    ALL NIGHT LONG ‘TIL THE DAWN OF THAT NEW DAY

    Assured, the feeling never goes away.
    My everlasting joy will last all night,
    All night long ‘til the dawn of that new day.

    My mighty minions toils their nights away
    on gifts that they will wrap in foil bright
    Assured, the feeling never goes away.

    The sun will always shine while we make hay,
    I know that everything will be just right,
    All night long ‘til the dawn of that new day.

    No matter what will come, or what just may,
    The children’s smiles will beam with perfect light.
    Assured, the feeling never goes away,

    for it is worth the price I have to pay
    to see the happiness in their delight,
    All night long ‘til the dawn of that new day.

    This Santa Claus goes quickly on his way
    to seal his Christmas deal in just one night.
    and we will make swift work of all of our play,
    All night long ‘til the dawn of that new day.

    # Walter J. Wojtanik

    1. Marie Elena

      One of the many things that amaze me about your words, Walt, is that you can write seemingly endlessly on a topic, and your words never ever get stale. There’s always a new take. A fresh line. An entertaining catch. An undying beauty. AMAZING.

      And, there is Mrs. C, just as gleamingly talented as ever!!

      Love you two. <3

  13. Emily Bowles

    Disambiguation

    I understand
    how little
    I understand;
    how little I can make anyone
    understand
    without re-membering
    you, Osiris.
    It’s not resurrection.
    It’s resistance
    I need.

  14. Emily Bowles

    Disambiguation

    I understand
    how little
    I understand;
    how little I can make anyone
    understand
    without re-membering
    you, Osiris.
    It’s not resurrection.
    It’s resistance
    I need.

  15. SarahLeaSales

    Playing Pretend is its Own Imaginary Friend

    She’d shed her innocent, thirtysomething self
    like a snake,
    charmed out of its skin,
    donning “Catholic schoolgirl” garments
    for the one day of the year
    she could be anything
    she wanted to be.
    She’d never worn pigtails or knee socks,
    but page-boys,
    saddle Oxfords,
    and dresses that could pass as camouflage
    in a garden party.
    She’d grown up Protestant
    with no corpse on the Cross
    dangling from her neck
    like an open coffin.
    She’d often wondered
    what life would’ve been like
    had she worn his broken body,
    worn the uniform
    that had been hijacked
    by the secularists.

  16. Ann M

    Last Night of October, 2017

    The last night starts
    at the duck pond,
    the half-moon rising
    over the dog run,
    and the mallards
    fussing in the reeds,
    and the old man standing
    by the water,
    and sirens mopping
    up terror across the river,
    and the children of
    Halloween racing
    up the avenue
    chasing the spooks,
    swallowing fears
    and sweets, howling
    we shall not be moved,
    so that a new day
    will come.

  17. Domino

    New Day

    In spite of today’s rush,
    scattered, thump-pumping heart,
    adrenaline-filled push
    of daily city life,
    tomorrow’s tormented
    hustle-bustle, weary,
    bitter coffee-scented
    crash is still a day away.

  18. thunk2much

    Coffee and kisses

    Well we got it wrong again,
    another day in ashes,
    silent glares and angry flashes,
    so little said, so much to say,
    our fears and flaws won,
    and we lost the day.

    So we sit, alone again,
    watching our different views
    of the same old evening news,
    waiting for the sun to rise
    on our second, and third,
    and three thousandth tries.

    But when you ask if I believe
    we stand a chance to get it right
    no matter how we spent the night,
    I will remind you of the dawn,
    of the coffee and the kisses,
    and the dewdrops on the lawn.

  19. hohlwein

    New Day

    Sweep the wave from your dreamscape.
    Sweep it away with the loose rock in your dream,
    with the flailing hand in your dream.

    You didn’t drown in paradise after all
    (even though, then, it was going to be okay

    : you responded to the question, “What can we do?”: with
    “We’re going to die now.”)

    You were not alone.
    And the wave came.
    How could it not?

    Sweep away your practice acceptance
    of oblivion

    with the truth tone of the clock
    with the hush of car wheels slipping past
    them, them, unknown, oblvious, living, also
    like they do
    like you do

    your little aches and loves
    your age
    your habits
    how you fling back this warm stack of covers
    in one go
    and the new day
    slaps you with your name and you breathe and say

    okay
    and

    thank you

    Pools of water shrink to stepping stones
    as you go.

    The path is a thing
    of magic
    even when all the dreamwater
    is gone
    and your feet, cold, touch the wooden floor alone.

    Light floods the room.

    It is still something other than you. Quivering, itself,
    because it is November

    now.

  20. deringer1

    NEW DAY (tritina)

    I woke to a morning hot and dry
    in a strange town in a strange state.
    Expecting beauty, I stepped outside, only

    to see a dusty street, with only
    a few stores in sight. My mouth was dry
    in fear. Why did I come to such a state?

    I knew I would have to accept this new state.
    It was done now, but I cried, “If only
    I had not run to a land so parched and dry!”

    My eyes were dry; this state only a challenge.

  21. MET

    New Day

    I used to sing a song
    From a musical about
    Throwing away the day
    That was before me
    Nine times out of ten, but
    Since the day I almost died,
    I wake up knowing
    That this is a day I almost
    Did not have, and
    As a gift…
    I can’t very well throw the day
    Away anymore;
    Can I?

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 1, 2017

  22. Kimberleigh

    A New Day

    Rustle of sheets, blood runs thick through my veins, quicker now,
    unfurling cats with tummies growling pick up cues through slit eyes.
    Gravity pulls, heavy, for human and animal, as the new day dawns but
    I only see filtered light, whispering softly through patterned semi-transparence, beckoning to rise and shine, not shiny, but rise despite.

    Damn these spasms of wakefulness, muscles unwilling, tightly
    clinging, knotted and resisting, to aging bones and tendons taut
    with bony spurs, let go, hinges un-oiled, I plead swing open, open.
    Allow me to lift, from the pillows and sheets that cushion and cocoon.
    Self talk forced positive, you must rise, you must rise, despite.

    Fluidity comes slow to this aging woman, I plead to my God’s nudge,
    mercy, remove the negative charge of sheets to body, the sun, the cats!
    Pulse quickening, lightheaded, heart pounding, I swallow and stretch what stretches, what stretches easily, I whisper easy. Batteries low
    on my heart monitor reflecting my own, the cats are charged, get UP!

    Record this moment, the spinning room with filtered light and slide into the slippers that are my tires on this vehicle, roll and transport me down endless stairs toward the black elixir waiting hot and steamy.
    A lesser fog tamps down the heaviness that now rides only the floor, curling around my legs, blanketing carpet now, mind clearing, misty.

    Cats follow ahead, behind, wind around the swirls of our night falling away, curtains magically open as well as cans of nourishment, meow.
    My dark brew pumped with artificial flavorings, wash down artificial
    youth and vigor, fluidity a temporary hourly respite from the old day.
    It’s a new day, a new day, a new day. Despite. Today.

    -Kimberleigh

  23. JRSimmang

    SHE GOT THE BLUES

    I know how you feel,
    but I really don’t.

    Dragon and butter
    flies
    make sense to the knights and gentlemen
    in my old bedroom,

    and the scent of pine
    isn’t what drifts in through my window
    anymore

    (now it’s the rush of tar and screeching falsetto),
    and I’ll never know what it is
    to have your fingers
    spread like rabbits
    facing the spitting, dribbling wolves,
    or see the faces you saw and disbelief in their eyes,

    but for you,
    the new dawn
    means a new day
    and I can’t help but pray

    that you sang about us
    and not about love.

    -JR Simmang

  24. carolecole

    When

    The news day begins with another attack,
    this one in New York with eight dead.
    Despite my aching legs, I tie on running shoes.
    Ear buds block the static of the world, fill my head
    with Cat Stevens’ joyous morning, and I meditate
    on the broken days, the promises. The dark road
    stretches ahead, and I sing through the pain,
    my legs moving. I can outrun decay.

  25. bartonsmock

    [soft facts]

    I don’t know what she saw
    in that jar

    but she’s been hours

    rubbing
    my head
    with a balloon…

    dad switches out the bag on her head
    and slips something in my mouth
    while saying
    mouse
    in the dollhouse

    I doze for a moment and see a priest
    pretend to fall
    from a horse, and a stork

    act
    as it should

    I see myself
    a form
    forged
    by a twin, a reincarnation

    that perhaps impressed
    my photographer
    son

  26. tripoet

    Not ready for a New Day

    It’s not even noon
    yet already
    it starts:
    news of a terror attack,
    a rental truck turned into a weapon
    NYC sidewalks, innocence
    targeted, ripping the smile off the sun
    and innocents off their bikes.
    The doctor calls,
    cancer’s crept back
    into hidden spaces
    of my unsuspecting friend.
    Another favorite actor accused
    of hitting
    on another favorite actress.
    Even my team,
    ready to celebrate with an unbeatable
    pitcher, loses game six
    in the World Series.
    Enough already
    with “new” days.
    I want to go
    far
    back
    and resurrect
    the “old”.

  27. Kayla

    A New Day
    The light rises over a line never reached
    Another day, another opportunity
    For evil doing or good
    If I wasn’t so lost maybe I would
    Let the good overflow me
    But even with light I can’t see
    So another day starts
    Another day to darken my heart
    What am I saying to myself
    Time to put these bottles on the shelf
    Let the light overtake me
    Let my spirit be free
    A new day starts
    To finally let light into my heart
    I reach out my hand to the fire
    I ignore all those who yelled liar
    For a new day has brought
    A finally good thought

  28. Nancy J

    What’s Old Is New Again

    The new day arrived on
    two wheels and left on four –
    bicycles to gurneys to
    wheeled coffins

    A new day becomes lost, wandering
    in confusion through pain that is
    all too familiar, joy disrupted,
    and plans gone awry

    What’s old is new again
    as we stand together and weep,
    but, hate cannot win
    every new day

    We continue to celebrate each dawn
    believing we will not be cut down or
    beaten down or worn down, not today,
    maybe tomorrow, but,
    Not Today.

  29. KM

    1.
    C’est un nouveau jour. It always is, but today I stretch my tongue with unfamiliar words. Grind fresh coffee beans. Press my finger along the crease of a new notebook, the possibility of one blank page after the next. We woke up to snow, wet and conscious of its own arrival. A confident declaration, je suis là. Our daughter pulled on her new winter boots, still a little too big, but everything needs space to grow. I used to think the winter stopped that — flourishing. The season of pause. But that was before I forgot to kiss you goodbye. Missed the tickle of one day’s growth on your stubbly chin.

  30. EllaT

    Night and Day

    After everyone had left
    and you’d sent signals all through the event
    passionately
    we kissed
    then wordlessly pulled apart
    and you returned to pretending
    I was nothing to you

    in my dream last night

    this morning I opened my eyes
    reflecting on my new day
    my new life
    the happiness I’ve found
    laying next to me in bed
    squirming inside me
    curled up at my feet

    outside of my dreams
    we never even touched
    yet somehow you changed my life
    taught me, without words
    that there was happiness out there
    gave me the courage to go find it
    to leave everything I knew
    and seek kindness
    and passion
    and love

    my only hope is that your days
    each new day
    starts as warm and happy and loved
    as mine

  31. usedname

    My eyes open to reveal,
    a sprawling sea of opportunity.
    Filtered through curtain slits
    Is the light of a new day.

    However I lay siege to blankets
    that smell of yesterday’s fresh laundry.
    And quite often I find,
    I can get seasick without my cup of coffee.

  32. Eileen S

    Dawn

    A white-yellow beacon slowly creeps up in the east.
    The blue gray sky and stratus clouds create a backdrop
    which showcases the red, orange and yellow leaves
    on the tired trees. It is the first of November and
    a harbinger of colder weather to come.
    Dawn gives way to a brisk autumn morning
    and a new chance. Celebrate the new day.

  33. Earl Parsons

    Mending Road

    Fifteen days sedated
    In and out of reality
    Swiss cheese flashbacks
    Few making any sense
    Far too many questions
    Many never answered
    Many left unanswered
    And thankful for that

    Day sixteen awakened
    In an unfamiliar setting
    Different bed
    Different staff
    Different doctors
    Different state
    My wife by my bedside
    As she had always been
    In every Swiss cheese flashback

    Awakened to a new day
    The first on Mending Road

    © 2017 Earl Parsons

      1. Earl Parsons

        Thanks, Eileen. This happened last year and I’m still on Mending Road, although a lot further down it then I honestly expected to be. And I thank God for a wife that stayed with me through nearly a month in the hospital and through all of the recovery. I owe her a lot. But that’s all part of love.

  34. annell

    A New Day Poem

    a new day will include    happiness    walking in on stilts

    dancing a jig    perhaps you will return    to complete my happiness
    as a child    when my grandmother came     we would sit on the front steps

    and sing    “she’ll be coming around the mountain”     without realizing

    one day she would not come     that people were not permanent     my parents

    my grandparents    our pets    to see life as tissue paper

    blowing in the wind    is probably a truer view     from birth

    we are changing     happening so slowly     we might miss it

    nothing stays the same    each day is a new day    and a new “we”

    November 1, 2017

  35. grcran

    The Longest Day of November

    She woke before dawn she
    Trembled in the dark
    Heard the chirping & the songs
    Mockingbird meadowlark
    Sun came up gold yellow
    Mellowed the new day
    Summer had returned yet summer’d
    Never gone away
    Summer was inside her
    Kept her innards warm
    Gave her eyes a twinkle & her smile
    A certain charm
    Bouncing cross the country
    Flying to the west
    Light went right on shining
    Made that day the summer-est

    gpr crane

      1. grcran

        thanks for commenting… many of my poems this month, and much of this year, are about summer… which also happens to be the name of my 3-year-old granddaughter

  36. Daniel Paicopulos

    Night Vision

    In that time the ancients
    called the death mist,
    others the black sun,
    he knows it as
    the ‘tween times,
    before new day has begun.
    Ideas spring unbidden,
    prompted by moonlight,
    meditation not required.
    Great rhymes are found,
    written down, or lost,
    no matter how inspired.
    It’s the night shift,
    poems bathed in shadow,
    starlight used to burn
    the words in stanzas,
    each spinning on its axis,

  37. ReathaThomasOakley

    Awakening

    This new day slipped in
    under dark clouds and
    the promise of thunder,
    made itself known by
    the smell of coffee
    brewing in the kitchen
    to lighten the gray world.

  38. PressOn

    ALL SAINTS DAY

    This holy day of obligation
    is meant to bring us inspiration
    and so I go to church. On station,

    I kneel upon the padded wood
    and offer all the prayers I should;
    I’m glad I’m doing something good

    but nonetheless, my knees get awfully sore.

    1. Terry Jude Miller

      I love the hidden and layered meaning of the ending….the physical self, the public-self (something good), and the private-self (knees hurting because something is going on that we don’t see…health, emotional pain, etc).

      Good one, PressOn.

      tjm 🙂

  39. Nancy Posey

    New Day

    Before the alarm clock’s insistent ring,
    even before the sun peaks over tree tops
    turning dark skies to rose, I wake
    from troubling dreams, tangled sheets
    evidence of a restless night. Worries
    that whispered threats and accusations
    in my ears all night seem more like pests
    than danger now. Padding into the kitchen,
    before I start the coffee brewing, I tear
    last month’s page from the calendar,
    appointments and birthdays history now.

    November’s clean and fresh, one new day
    after another, holding possibilities,
    promise of second chances, sweet dreams.

  40. mapoet

    Morning Calls

    The gull is herald
    of a new day.
    Throws back its
    head and cries out.

    What does it mean,
    this morning scream?

    Is it a wake up
    call to others
    or the declaration,
    “I’m still here”.

  41. PowerUnit

    It’s Not

    It’s not a life you can run away from,
    but no one is forcing you to stay in this one.

    It’s not like there is anywhere else to go,
    if only your walls were mere barbed wire.

    It’s not like there’s green grass you can graze in,
    even the best fed horses eat their pound of dirt.

    It’s not like you can’t make this life work,
    you’ve come this far without coming to blows.

    It’s not like you’ve got nothing to live for,
    each new day brings hopes and dreams and so much more.

  42. Linda Rhinehart Neas

    A New Day

    She woke with a start
    sounds swirling around
    unfamiliar –
    with a silence that screamed

    This was a new day.
    The first freedom day –
    the genesis of life
    lived in liberty.

    Laying still
    she let reality
    wash away the nightmare
    of past days froth with fear.

    Today, she was born
    into hopeful sunshine
    where dreams were lived
    in technicolor.

    Today, life started anew –
    fresh with possibility.
    A new day, a new country
    a new life.

    ______

    Greetings fellow poets! So great to be writing once more in the PAD for November. This month I will be attempting to write poems dedicated to my immigrant and refugee students. The non-profit school, in which I teach, uses this month for their 30 Poems in November challenge – a way to support literacy and fundraise. Learn more at: http://cnam.org/civicrm/pcp/info?reset=1&id=93

  43. mschied

    3:59

    In the undiluted darkness
    I lie
    misshapen, indistinguishable
    orbital sockets playing host
    to eyeballs that tumble over
    and over
    with my
    thoughts
    a dryer on high
    daytime anxieties infiltrating
    dreamland
    when a panic over pizza
    punches me awake
    yet it feels like
    I never slept
    in the first place

  44. Bushkill

    A New Day
    A fire kindles in the heavens
    Birthing a race among reds and yellows
    That arc across the sky like winged steeds
    Carrying the standard for the day.

    The trees around me sway
    Waving in autumnal hue
    Their own coronets a matching statement
    Of beauty and pageantry.

    And I, in my steamy halo
    Of fresh brewed bliss
    Allow the ripple of the wind to
    Toy with my skin, my hair.

    The beauty I behold reminds me of
    My too small place in this world
    Yet I accept the Dawn’s challenge
    Emboldened by such enormity to make my mark.

  45. Jezzie

    A NEW DAY

    “Today is the first day of the rest of my life”
    is the phrase that I hold with me in times of strife.
    Life is so very short and should be oh so sweet
    so in times of trouble I always try to repeat:
    “Today will be the first day of my brand new start”
    and I face the challenge with a much lighter heart.

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