2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 22

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “(blank) Day;” replace the blank with a word or phrase; make the new phrase the title of your poem; and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: “Happy Day,” “Sunny Day,” “Thanksgiving Day,” and “Happy Birthday.”


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Here’s my attempt at a Blank Day Poem:

“lazy day”

wake up
to lay in bed
& think about getting up
knowing that there is no rush
& maybe i’ll do something but
maybe not


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 loves getting things done, but he also appreciates the rare lazy day.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.


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267 thoughts on “2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 22

  1. Brandi Noelle

    Perfect Day

    Snooze means I get up late
    Pokey daughter makes me wait
    Rushing to school will be our fate
    No matter
    Today is a perfect day

    No empty chairs at the coffee shop
    Nor a place to set down my laptop
    Back home to work now I must stop
    No matter
    Today is a perfect day

    Spider on my bathroom ceiling
    Giving me that creepy feeling
    Gotta squash it before it’s fleeing
    No matter
    Today is a perfect day

    Messy house, utter disarray
    Endless clutter in the way
    No time to stop and clean today
    No matter
    Today is a perfect day

    Daughter’s cough sounds like croup
    She refuses to eat her bowl of soup
    Fights off sleep though her eyes droop
    No matter
    Today is a perfect day

    Hubby is working late tonight
    I’ll try to wait up with all my might
    Too tired to even write
    No matter
    Today is a perfect day

    A family of three we’ll be no more
    It’s time to grow to a family of four
    This new little life I will adore
    Yes, it’s true
    Today is a perfect day

  2. Shennon

    An After the Storm Kind of Day

    Sparkling water droplets
    tug on a purple iris petal
    Basking in the glow
    of both sun and rainbow
    They join their brothers
    in saturating Nebraska soil.


  3. LCaramanna

    sunny day

    unexpected autumn pleasure
    perfect bike ride
    sunny day
    pedal over country roads
    through fields
    past dairy barns
    all the way to the cider mill
    twelve miles in sunny day shine
    a vigorous bike ride
    sunny October day
    totally unexpected pleasure
    of golden fields
    surrounded by fall’s finest foliage
    under a deep blue sky
    twelve miles in sunny day shine
    all the way to the cider mill
    warm apple cider donuts
    surge of energy
    for the twelve mile
    perfect sunny day
    bike ride back home

    Lorraine Caramanna

    1. ingridbruck

      “Here is my birthday poem to myself plus another from the day before thanksgiving.
      Michael Peck

      Birthday poem

      Time has flown
      into the present
      leaving the past
      like a furnished apartment
      filled was discarded dreams
      now inhabiting
      the empty space
      of the moment
      standing here
      there is no history
      or future
      just the sun rising
      turning the red rim gold
      the blue sky
      invites the mind
      to take flight
      into the glory
      of a new day ©

      Old folks home?

      Time crawls slowly
      through the waiting room
      leaving dust footprints
      soft gossamer webs
      in the corners of the room
      silence and strained breathing
      are the languages spoken here
      soft whispers and averted eyes
      no looks at one another here
      unseen curtains cloak
      their eyes
      as they read old magazines
      and study the cracks
      in the tile floor ©”

      1. ingridbruck

        Blank day

        Day 21

        A Good day

        good days 
        arrive filled with beauty
        unexpected birdsong
        the sweet smile of a lover
        the soft touch of a summer breeze
        they seem to be gone 
        before they began
        as we savor each sweet bit
        not knowing when the next 
        such day will arrive ©

        Michael Peck
        Nov.22, 2017

  4. seingraham


    Earlier today I passed a yoga studio and paused
    to watch the participants; they were all seated
    in a typical cross-legged pose with eyes closed,
    and hands like unopened flowers resting on knees.

    I had a flashback of many years to when I meditated
    and practised TM (transcendental meditation)
    way back in the seventies when it first was in vogue.
    I found myself moving to a bench near the yoga studio

    and sitting down, thinking back on that time –
    My mind quieted, my eyes closed and my mantra
    appeared in my mind as if it had been waiting there
    to be summoned for decades, and maybe it had been.

    I recalled a retreat I had attended at a monastery
    in St. John’s, one weekend, during that time. It was one
    of the most relaxing things I’ve ever done. A weekend
    of complete silence; we didn’t speak even at meals.

    The only noise I remember is when the nuns that lived
    There, chanted periodically, especially at matins,
    and again, at vespers. Suddenly, as if the walls came
    to life, we could hear these ethereal voices travelling

    up the stairwells, I imagined, but it didn’t matter how
    just that they did – angelic, beautiful bits of magic
    that wound around the silent visitors practising how
    to concentrate and become one with themselves.

  5. bmorrison9

    Mountain Day

    Find a way
    to root yourself
    on this firm ground.
    Feel the rock beneath
    the thin layer of soil.

    the fertile ideas
    springing up around you,
    needing only that
    slight nourishment,
    that frail encouragement.

    Stand strong
    and with your wide arms
    comfort and protect
    your people.

  6. Linda Rhinehart Neas

    Not sure where I posted this, but now I can’t find it. I was a day late and a poem short!

    Just Another Day

    The grind
    is wearing thin
    the souls of those
    who daily struggle
    to gain a foothold
    as they climb
    from dire straits
    to tranquil seas.
    they persist –
    like inchworms
    slowly moving
    like ants
    bringing home
    their finds
    like tortoise
    winning the race

    1. ingridbruck

      New Day

      I wait for a gray or red day
      a hot or cold day
      a rainy or bright day
      to rise out of the ocean
      the what-ness of day
      indifferent to me
      lightens the sky
      remnants of night
      turn clouds black
      and conceal the sun
      morning has come

  7. Melanie

    Last Day

    if he knew
    if he could
    he would pray
    he would ask
    that this be
    his last day
    he’s adrift
    in his life
    lost his way
    who’s the face
    in the glass/
    cannot say
    who is she
    by his side
    doesn’t know
    why he wants
    her to stay
    once he knew
    crystal clear
    now it’s grey
    what is life
    when what counts
    fades away?

  8. Tracy Davidson

    Pumpkin Day

    My partner carves faces in pumpkins,
    he removes pulpy flesh, scoop by scoop.
    Post-Halloween we’ll be eating for weeks
    pumpkin pie, pumpkin stew, pumpkin soup.

  9. robinamelia

    Parallel Day

    In another universe, a woman, just like me,
    but with a striped tail (a source of pride)
    is also sliding open the curtains
    and studying the sky. Mine is pink,
    turning rapidly to pale blue: hers
    a spiky emerald green. Like me, she sighs,
    tries that remember that God
    made it all, and loves it all—us all.
    She wonders about me, and all
    of our variations, spread across multi-
    verses (if the speculations of theoretical
    physicists are correct). But how, really,
    could they be? she thinks with a switch
    of her tail. I vanish.

  10. Connie Peters

    New Day

    You can’t start from where you were.
    You must begin right where you’re at.
    Even if do-overs you’d prefer.
    You can’t start from where you were.
    Simple logic must concur.
    You can’t step back into the past.
    You can’t start from where you were.
    You must begin right where you’re at.

  11. Pat Walsh

    one long day
    by Patrick J. Walsh

    one long day shuffling
    struggling and scuffling
    to keep up with the Sun
    on its way across the sky
    resentful of the moon
    and its quietly appearing
    to signal the shortness
    of the remaining hours

  12. KM


    A day seems so long when the sun’s still on its way, the coffee is hot, and you can almost see the blank hours ahead, like a long country road in summer. I was travel ready this morning, prepared and packed, motivation easy to reach in a mental carry on. How quick it all runs off course, when the phone rings, and crisis, small but real, is on the other line. A different city, too far away to help, but close enough to think I should be helping. Somehow. The day is no longer enlarged by possibility, but crushed by those pointless words — wish and worry.

    – Kim Mannix

  13. De Jackson

    Sky Day

    We sat on a roof, named every star
    shared every bruise and showed every scar…
    Forget the world and its weight
    And here I just want to stay
    Amazing day amazing day
                             – Coldplay

    We scold and scumble
    this bright sky for being other,
    hold the stars at bay,

    and say the things we
    we wished would



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