2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 2

Yesterday was fun, but we’ve got plenty of poeming left to do this month!

For today’s prompt, write a disguise poem. In our neck of the woods, we just finished celebrating Halloween, which is all about wearing disguising (and begging for candy). But there are also spies, practical jokes, and other reasons to wear disguises. Plus, some people disguise their true selves on their online social media profiles–not to mention all the disguises used by plants, animals, and insects in the natural world.


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Here’s my attempt at a Disguise Poem:

“if i say”

i never cared for you
would you believe me

or would you consider
it another hidden meaning

one word disguised as another
& if i say that i cared for you

but not your actions
would my words seem cloaked

or would you understand
i can feel two ways at once


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.

He’s not sure if he disguises his words, but they do often have multiple personalities, which may be the same thing. Completely unrelated, he dressed as Bob Wiley from the early 90s film “What About Bob” for Halloween this year.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.


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263 thoughts on “2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 2

    1. ingridbruck

      Heart Health

      My smart phone tracks my steps without asking,
      Heart Health App lives inside my phone’s menu.

      This intruder I didn’t know was there
      shadows me and my phone where ever we go,
      it records every step I take, every hill I climb,
      translates distance walked to miles per day.
      I didn’t know it was there, never turned it on
      until a friend showed me the App last month.
      “Don’t buy a FitBit, it’s a waste of money,”
      she counseled and showed me the peeper
      who has transcribed a permanent record
      of my sloth and lack of prowess
      since the moment I bought iPhone 8.

      1. ingridbruck

        “Here is my day 2 poem.”
        Michael Peck

        Day 2 disguise

        She wore a low-cut blouse
        and tight pants
        she looked at everyone
        looking at her
        she was happy with the attention
        beaming eyes and lovely smile

        Carrying a large bag
        over her shoulder
        she headed for the store
        a trendy shop
        straight to the dressing room

        when she came out
        wearing a long dark velvet dress
        she walked straight out the door
        crossing the street
        entering the Cathedral
        blending seamlessly
        with everyone there ©”

  1. bmorrison9

    October in Vermont

    Elephant vine
    grows over the trellises
    immersing the porch
    in underwater light.

    That’s not its name.
    I can’t remember
    though I’ve been told
    three times.

    But the leaves are like
    elephant ears
    and it spreads with
    a jungle’s fecundity.

    Autumn days
    unnaturally warm,
    leaves still green,
    missing the frost.

  2. LCaramanna

    Masquerade Ball

    It was easy to deceive
    behind the mask.
    Beneath the cloak,
    it was easy to mingle,
    abandon inhibitions,
    dance with no one seeing
    the grotesque misfit,
    unwanted freak,
    behind the mask.
    It was easy to deceive,
    a thrill to masquerade
    without fear of disclosure.

    Lorraine Caramanna

  3. pipersfancy

    Hidden Beneath

    If I could unzip my skin and you could step inside my shell.
    What would you notice? There once was a unicorn (Magical!
    Wondrous!) who unzipped her skin, and out stepped a mule
    (Pragmatic. Sturdy.) Sometimes, I am one or the other, and
    sometimes I am neither. Sometimes I am daughter, mother,
    seeker of marvelous words, both accuser and accused, both
    healer and destroyer of small dreams, but always, always,
    I am flickering dance of flame in search of self in others.
    Do you notice?

    1. ppfautsch24

      Love’s Sweet Disguise
      Your spun sugar pet names
      Burnt sugar playing games
      Candy corn concoction
      Laced with lies, behind his
      Saccharine sweet smile.
      It was all a love disguise
      Like my ghetto sweet
      Koolaid drink; I believed
      Him and drank it up.
      By Pamelap

  4. Carmen Maldonado

    The sky unzips, prepares
    to pour.
    Along the stone grey shore
    bruised by the fingers of the sea
    a gull stalks
    as all birds move on the ground,
    its little neck a stretched-out spring:
    no good to wring.

    Spotting a swollen seal body
    it pushes through crowds and crowds of blood,
    (or is it mud? no matter)
    stabs its way through to the bladder,
    It hops and shrieks
    and plays a poor cardinal—
    as if its cry would not betray it.
    As if its face would not
    display it.

  5. AFPrice

    The Clown

    I’ve never been a bouncy clown
    bright – but not bouncy
    disheveled orange hair
    orange polkadot clownsuit
    and big red galumphey shoes
    but not bouncy

    I’m a silent clown
    and gentle
    I carry Josa with me
    she’s a sea otter
    most people like to pet her
    ‘cause she’s soft
    and a little shy

    I stood in the bank parking lot
    with her one day
    so people coming out
    could see her and stop their rushing
    for a minute

    there was a tractor trailer
    parked in the street
    and when the burly looking man
    came striding out of the bank
    I knew it was the truck driver
    I worried a little about him
    so did Josa

    but halfway to me he broke his stride
    his whole self softened
    as he reached to pet Josa
    so gently – so gently
    and said softly
    “she’s wonderful”
    and went on to his truck

    it’s like I said
    I’m not a bouncy clown

  6. carolecole


    Under the guise of friendship she told me
    “I have to tell you” and I pondered the word
    “guise,” the way the word cuddles close
    to semblance, how it peeks behind appearance,
    how it conceals fangs of anger, how sorrow lies
    at its heart, a heart laid open to trust.

  7. myztik25

    Not A Flower

    I chose my seeds carefully
    With pride I beamed outwardly
    As I sowed I reaped bountifully

    As love poured from my kettle
    I knew not this dandy petal
    What beauty! So not to mettle

    And I pruned and left the best
    Your yellow shined with great zest
    I thought I completed my quest

    Come to light, I’ve been deceived
    For you weren’t a chosen seed
    All this time you were but a weed

  8. barbc

    I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
    And what I assume, you shall assume,
    For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

    — Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”

    Every atom — changing, exchanging,
    assuming a new disguise.

    Respiration, inspiration, expiration.
    (Who am I today?)

    I walk through the misty morning,
    mist enters my very pores.

    Today I am flesh and bone and mist.
    Tomorrow a new disguise.

  9. Bruce Niedt

    This Guy’s Disguise

    You won’t find me in a beret
    scribbling furiously in a French café,
    or pondering in an ascot
    with a quill pen and a raven mascot.
    No, I move among you incognito.
    That whining noise like a mosquito?
    Those are my poems, buzzing near your ear.
    So next time in a bar, look up from your beer –
    that might be me, two stools down to your left,
    or at the Home Depot, you might see me heft
    a ceiling fan over my bony shoulder.
    Do you picture me younger or older?
    I could be that hot guy at the dinner party
    or an old geezer in the cheese shop, buying Havarti.
    I move like smoke – I can disperse in a minute,
    then suddenly there’s a poem, and surprise! – you’re in it.

  10. Bruce Niedt

    This Guy’s Disguise

    You won’t find me in a beret
    scribbling furiously in a French café,
    or pondering in an ascot
    with a quill pen and a raven mascot.
    No, I move among you incognito.
    That whining noise like a mosquito?
    Those are my poems, buzzing near your ear.
    So next time in a bar, look up from your beer –
    that might be me, two stools down to your left,
    or at the Home Depot, you might see me heft
    a ceiling fan over my bony shoulder.
    Do you picture me younger or older?
    I could be that hot guy at the cocktail party
    or an old geezer in the cheese shop, buying Havarti.
    I move like smoke – I can disperse in a minute,
    then suddenly there’s a poem, and surprise! – you’re in it.

  11. ToniBee3

    posture and peachy slump

    ain’t nothing fine
    when you’re misaligned
    don’t have no
    hotsy-totsy spine

    no s-shaped curve
    no disc-o verve
    pinch my nerve

    it be a chore
    to pull in my core
    and lift my stoop
    up off the floor

    always draped
    in shawls and capes
    scarves and ruffs
    around the nape

    disguise my hump
    ‘tween neck and rump
    (just need a bowl of
    peachy slump)

    if I could crack
    my own durn back
    and crack my back
    back into whack

    i’d be so fine
    once realigned
    and take better care
    of this spine

  12. stepstep


    I’m mad, disappointed, shaken to the ground but a
    Smile invades my face, not my soul.
    No one can break this façade
    I wear to deter other emotions.

    Life is sometimes unpleasant, unfair
    To the core, to the deepest hole inside
    Where it resides, sometimes for eons
    Until I find a way to an inner release.

    I attempt to unlock every shackle and
    Wipe way every streak of darkness,
    Attempting to appease each atom
    To design a gigantic smile no my face.

  13. headintheclouds87

    Tired Old Suit

    In days crowded with lies
    And jammed with judging eyes,
    I slip through the cracks and get by
    In my carefully crafted disguise.

    The mask of making sense,
    A body rested and prepared,
    My voice patient, soft with care
    All fool a world full of pretence.

    Shaking hands with a smile,
    While keeping teeth and truth clenched
    At risk of thoughts being wrenched,
    I still hide behind my suit of denial.

  14. Domino


    The deepest heart is secret, sometimes even to oneself
    Horrors reside there, often concealed on a private shelf.
    Behind lovely afternoons, indulgent lazy mornings,
    precious private moments, lie alarm bells and dire warnings:
    No trespass! No Entry! Go no further! Access denied!
    And yet, heart racing, pushing forward, bewildered, untried,
    our curious minds must see, and when revealed, revulsion
    results, dread that, yes, this truth was real. Bitter compulsion
    forces us to face that dire truth, but makes us disguise
    it again, to hide it before our very self should capsize.

  15. Nancy Canyon

    It’s Me

    Standing by the pond, the gnarled tree
    wearing an overcoat, the one you’ve seen

    detailed in the painting? It’s a self-portrait,
    me standing akimbo, a limb pointing thataway.

    If I could speak you’d hear me say: Follow
    your heart. It’s the only path to happiness.

    But, you do not see this individual disguised
    by all the trees. It used to confuse me, that idea—

    but now I get it. People think we all look alike.
    We don’t, but we do have one thing in common—

    the desire for love. What will it take for you
    to show me your heart’s tender craving?

  16. deringer1

    Didn’t take long until
    I found that others
    Saw you differently than I did. That
    Good ole boy charm worked well for you
    Until we went home.
    I watched you turn off the nice and
    Split into the other you,
    Ever critical and accusing.

  17. Anthony94

    After the Fall

    Bare limbs decked out
    voluptuously, she of the daring
    red, her sister in darker crimson

    How they’ll slip into something sleek
    as winter coats those lithesome
    limbs in a sheen of ice, an ermine

    of fresh snow. Down the fenceline
    the robust cedars have no need
    for disguise as birds huddle dry

    against inside trunks above
    lowest limbs where a browning swirl
    is all that remains of maples’ faded frocks.

  18. rmpWritings

    by rmp

    in the quiet light of morning
    where the sun kisses the horizon
    as the sky blushes rosy hues

    before the world fully wakes
    where coffee grounds wait with bated breath
    to course through bloodstreams

    in the thick fog of thoughts
    where pencil hovers hesitantly over paper
    allowing words pass through the guise

    before I don my mask
    where only my eyes speak truth
    that no one seems to hear or wants to hear

    in the tear-filled meaning of each poem
    where pain and hope walk hand-in-hand
    the true me breathes free

  19. Nurit Israeli


    Just as she thinks it’s over,
    cancer sneaks silently back,
    disguising his weapons
    of mass destruction.

    So she returns to the war zone,
    dragging along her despair.
    But on the battlefield
    of her scarred body,

    littered with incisions,
    hope offers itself again
    for her consideration.
    And she opens her arms.

    ~ Nurit Israeli

  20. usedname

    Ask me to reveal the face of desire,
    And you find serendipity’s child.
    Innocent and pure,
    Never second guessing its actions,
    A series of impulses fulled by raw emotion.

    Ask me to reveal the face of jealousy,
    And you find
    A frail figure curled upon itself, withdrawn into shadow
    No life remains in its glassy eyes;
    A gaze awry searches for a mirror
    Only to find the face of others.

    Ask me to reveal the face of human kindness,
    And you can find it smiling down brightly upon us,
    In the assurance of a sun that rises over mountain tops,
    In the wind that swallows up the valleys,
    It is the very breath we speak and the warmth of laughter.
    A never ending stream of light that swallows up the world
    reaching every dark corner of the heart.

  21. Bushkill

    kinda late with this, but yesterday got away from me a little.


    Do they know
    Can they see
    What I show,
    How I feel?

    I keep things close
    Show only a little
    My speech not verbose
    In lives, I won’t meddle.

    How could they know
    Where would they see
    If out I won’t go
    And reclusive I be.

  22. Erbiage

    ::Mickey Mask::

    A face painted on
    Behind a painted plank
    Graven grimace, or grin

    A shriveled prune
    Remains of a blackened heart
    Burned, dried, scarred

    A case of faces
    One for every occasion
    The one who wrote this cries

  23. Julieann

    Who Am I?

    Day’s end and here I sit
    With a face in the mirror
    Staring back at me
    Am I me, or what the world expects to see?

    Contacts and dyes
    To change hair color and eyes
    Lipstick and mascara
    Powder and blush

    Stiletto heels and spandex hose
    Shaping foundations and uplift bra
    Form fitting garments
    Two sizes too small

    I remove the outward trappings
    To stare into the mirror
    Am I really me
    Or what the world expects to see?

  24. Jrentler

    fatman swallows nagasaki

    & like clouds in my latte
    agent orange swirl’d

    sulfur, cyanide, chlorine gas
    pumhart von styrs
    the supersonique ramjet

    cruise any blvd
    to see
    people, not tankards
    carriages, not ammunators

    young ones in need of a song

    yet, we too hoarse
    to scream a long-range
    warning shot

    beyond our deadspeak
    & fizzled champs of pain

  25. MHR

    I wrote this thinking how depression is a type of mask-however it is not something we typically choose, but it IS something that changes how we think, how we act, and how we look. It’s titled “I’m fine.”.

    I walk along the streets as the Color Gray.
    I duck my head and I play along to their songs,
    I sing in their gospel choir and I pray,
    and I allow their words to have some meaning if only for a moment.
    … then I lose myself in a white sound wall…
    while my phone rings again…
    another missed call.

    “This is Mom, I was thinking about you…”
    “Haven’t heard from you since Boston, girl, call me when you get the message!”
    “Are you okay?”
    “Hey, maybe you missed the last call… let me know when you get this.”
    “Why don’t you ever pick up for me?”

    That’s nice of you to call me.
    I appreciate it, but I can’t find the right words.
    I’ve tried, “I’m okay,” “I’m fine,” “Don’t worry about it-leave me be”.
    but all I get is another recommendation to a place
    where if I enter, I’ll never leave.

    1. Bruce Niedt

      Is anyone else having a problem posting tonight? I tried again to post my poem by typing it directly into the box instead of cutting and pasting, and it still didn’t show up. Also, is anyone else getting that “Captcha” prompt?

      1. seingraham

        I haven’t had trouble posting yet, Bruce, but just now, in the middle of commenting on the other page – “older comments” – I got asked to prove I was human in a captcha box. Did it, but that’s it for me for now. Thought I’d drop back and tell you – it’s not just you.

  26. EllaT


    sun mosaic leaves shadow
    wind rustle dancing
    silent summer din
    crickets cicadas chainsaws
    death disguised
    by dinner roll clouds
    sonorus laughter
    everything July
    nothing amiss

  27. lsteadly

    Shape Shifter

    What would you think if
    I changed my name?

    How would you feel if
    I played that game?

    How would you know if
    I were one and the same

    when not even I know
    my soul, how to tame?

  28. Angie5804


    I hide who I am
    Here in Birmingham
    Where they only know a piece of me
    I hide what I feel
    I do not reveal
    The things they do not hear, do not see
    They don’t know my grief
    Doubt and unbelief
    I breathe in doubt then I just exhale
    Just an illusion
    Ball of confusion
    Covered up behind a proper veil

  29. tunesmiff

    G. Smith
    “He seemed just like one of the guys,
    “I guess that shows how much we knew.”
    “How’d we miss his cruel disguise?”
    “He seemed just like one of the guys.”
    “So many questions, so many ‘Whys?'”
    “I never had a clue,
    “He seemed just like one of the guys;
    “I guess that shows how much we knew.”

  30. tunesmiff

    G. Smith (BMI)
    Who’s that in the mirror,
    Looking back at me?
    He doesn’t look familiar,
    That old man that I see.
    I recognize the eyes,
    Looking out from that disguise;
    But I hafta ask,
    I hafta ask:
    Where’d he get that mask, that mask?
    Where’d he get that mask?

    Seems it was a couple of days ago,
    I learned how to drive,
    Ain’t no way it’s been so long,
    That I have been alive.
    Sure my arm’s not quite as good now,
    As it was when I was a starter;
    And I can throw a few you know,
    Though now it’s a little harder.

    And what happened to those buddies,
    I made back in the Corps?
    Not every one of them came home,
    But it seems we’ve lost some more.
    The dress blues don’t fit quite as well,
    As they did a few minutes ago,
    And my hair’s still short, but now it seems,
    There’s a bit more scalp to show.

    Who’s that in the mirror,
    Looking back at me?
    He doesn’t look familiar,
    That old man that I see.
    I recognize the eyes,
    Looking out from that disguise;
    But I hafta ask,
    I hafta ask:
    Where’d he get that mask, that mask?
    Where’d he get that mask?

    My first crush sits across the room,
    I guess I am a keeper;
    And our baby boy stills calls me “Dad,”
    Though now his voice seems deeper;

    And together with his brother,
    They’re in Texas and Tennessee,
    Another thing I don’t understand,
    Is how my kids got older than me?

    Who’s that in the mirror,
    Looking back at me?
    He doesn’t look familiar,
    That old man that I see.
    I recognize the eyes,
    Looking out from that disguise;
    But I hafta ask,
    I hafta ask:
    Where’d he get that mask, that mask?
    Where’d he get that mask?

    I hafta ask,
    I hafta ask:
    Where’d he get that mask?

  31. Sara McNulty

    Unremovable Disguise

    In the last year
    of her life,
    she told me
    of a man she loved
    who sat at her table
    for meals. Pointing
    to another woman,
    in mock whisper, she said,
    he likes her more.
    A second man in his
    wheelchair, caught
    her eye. She kissed him.
    His visiting wife
    was appalled. Mom laughed,
    said she could not help it.
    Not a bit sorry.

    Sometimes her hair stuck
    out in clumps. She did not
    care, or was not aware
    of how she looked. No books
    or magazines graced her table
    due to failing eyesight.

    She railed at her aides.
    Sometimes she wept,
    confused, and asking, what
    happened to me? At times
    she was still my Mom.
    I would catch a glimpse
    underneath that veil
    of illness.

  32. Walter J Wojtanik


    So long as you don’t count his shoes,
    his two left feet will dance all night.
    Any dance that you might choose
    so long as you don’t count his shoes.
    ‘Cause barefoot boy will get the blues
    those two left feet aren’t right,
    So long as you don’t count his shoes,
    His two left feet will dance all night.

  33. Tina Hoyi

    My face is a mask
    Frozen in a happier time
    My smile so bright and sweet
    Disguises the girl within
    Fast asleep, head resting on
    Pillows of fear and sweat
    Tears and lust
    Pain and thirst
    My face a mask
    A tribute to the girl
    You’ll never know

  34. De Jackson

    Hiding Behind This Smallish Shadow, Over Here

    I said
    I’ll wear the mask if I have to
    I will inherit the crown…
    – Suicide Silence

    Who among us has not wasted
    these smaller things? These stones.

    Thrown them loose just to listen
    to the ripples on the sea. We know

    things; we even say them. We sway
    them to our needs, filter them through

    glove and blindfold, veil and vein.
    We’re tamed by silence, tuned by

    storm. Who among us has not
    donned the mask, ignored the crown?


  35. MET

    the last one

    Monster III

    I never knew your name, but
    I can still describe your face.
    I never knew if you had a job, but
    I close my eyes and see that hand painted beige van.

    And those eyes, cold as ice frozen
    On the sides of road that I walked.
    You watched me as I have seen a hawk
    Watch a small rabbit…
    Waiting for its strike.
    I felt those eyes
    Hungry for me,
    You did not care to know my name.

    I walked by you, and
    Relief flooded me, but then
    You were there at the next street, and
    The next… and
    Then waiting for me at the end of the street,
    I turned to go and
    You stalked me closer
    Ready for the kill…
    I darted from your grasp
    To a stranger’s house.
    You rushed away, and
    I was safe, but
    Those cold eyes in my memory
    Remind me there are monsters

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 2, 2017

      1. MET

        I was just out of college… and visiting my brother and his wife in Cincinnati… and it was my last evening in town.. I was flying out the next day to home… and it was not something I forgot… and yet my sister in law laughed at me and would not let me call the police… I have always regretted that one…

  36. Kayla

    Lies Disguised As Truth

    When sirens sing we believe one thing
    We can’t believe what’s happening
    But what if sirens sing truth not lies
    Maybe that’s why the truth makes you cry
    Because we lie to ourselves hoping its real
    ‘Cuz goods the only feeling we wanna feel
    So maybe it’s time to take off the mask
    And face life’s everyday fact
    That lies are truth and truth are lies
    Because nobody wants to believe the good guys
    They wanna believe these masked killers that say
    Close your eyes it’ll all be okay
    But when is society gonna wake up
    And take off its shiny makeup
    The truths too boring and too lame
    We prefer the blood that’s in your name
    Can we even tell the difference anymore
    After we’ve been fooled before
    When this lie is disguised as truth
    Even with the truth right in front of you
    Are we scared to believe what we see
    Because around us the world’s dying
    So we allow these lies to be real now
    We even help show them how
    The truths been pushed aside to make room for lies
    And now they’ve completely mastered their disguise

    1. Marie Elena

      “Because nobody wants to believe the good guys
      They wanna believe these masked killers that say
      Close your eyes it’ll all be okay
      But when is society gonna wake up
      And take off its shiny makeup”

      Lots of truth here.

      1. Kayla

        Thank you, that was a special part for me, holds lots of personal meaning. Lying and deception has seemed to just become part of human nature, and sometimes I feel society too easily excepts it.

  37. MET

    Monster II

    I wish the predators of this world
    Had to wear a warning
    That they really aren’t as nice as they seem to be.
    You know the kind
    The overly charming man
    Who offers to help, while
    He is sizing you up for his pleasure or
    The syrupy sweet woman
    Where honey just drips from her pores, and
    Don’t dare believe her, “Trust me,”
    Never had more lying words been spoken.
    It took me a few hard lessons
    To figure out that charming and syrupy sweet
    Are never to be trusted.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 2, 2017

  38. MET

    Monsters I

    There are real monsters
    Who disguise themselves as people…
    People who are good and caring…
    People who are trusted.

    I trusted this person.
    She rescued animals, and
    Adopted children.
    She did all the right stuff.

    She had helped me out that day,
    And while I waited for my new cat.
    We talked, and she asked me a question
    What kind of work I had did.

    I responded, and she froze
    And the mask she was wearing
    Slid silently down her face, and
    I was looking into eyes…

    Eyes a light grey blue, but
    Cold as dry ice they froze me…
    I was in the headlights
    Of a cold monster, I wanted to flee.

    The moment was fleeting, and
    She had the mask back over her face, and
    I was left thinking did I see what I saw, and
    The desire to get as far away as I could.

    My new cat arrived, and
    I grabbed her and the cat carrier and
    Fled her house afraid to look back
    That she might be following me…

    Two months later the news
    Was saying the horrid things that went on
    In her house of horrors, and
    I trembled remembering the moment her mask came down.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 2, 2017

      1. MET

        thanks and it was so crazy scary… she was arrested for killing cats… over 800 cats came into her care… most are dead…most unaccounted for…took cats from 16 shelters in four states to collect the money and for that she got four years probation…

  39. Nancy Posey

    Without Disguise

    She almost had us fooled, convinced
    she hid behind that flawless face,
    those long limbs, hair you only see
    in shampoo ads. No one asked
    What does he see in her?
    We thought we knew.

    After all, how could anyone
    look that pretty, that perfect
    without devoting all her time
    to grooming, tanning, Pilates?

    But then we heard—from others,
    not from her—about her quiet
    acts of kindness, service without
    credit or acclaim. We saw him
    grow stronger, a better man,
    happier than he’d been in years.

    She worked beside him,
    face scrubbed clean, mindless
    of her manicure, turning
    that shell of a house
    into a home, welcoming
    all us of who misjudged her
    with open arms and heart.

  40. Linowen

    November 2:

    Not All that She May Seem

    Can you tell November is here?
    Like a purring lioness, she cloaks herself in
    disarming contentment,

    hides in the flowing grasses of autumn golds
    and browns, tans and russets.

    The scent of her speaks of cinnamons and
    cinders as she licks her lips, nips at furred paws.

    A taste of November says, “Come,”
    …breathes, “Journey.”

    Feel November’s brush against your cheek,
    a purr of delight, a season’s grain-crushed mead.

    Beware…. You really should take flight.
    November is not all that she may seem,

    for Winter is her paramour, a raging roar.

        1. Linowen

          I was hoping ‘enchanting’ might waft through these lines, and your comment confirms that bit of success. My ‘fear’ of posting my first two PAD poems on here has been relieved. Thank you!


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