2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 28

[Update: I want to thank everyone for the concern in the comments below. Without getting into specifics, I just want to let you know that I am okay and to again thank you for the concern. It does mean a lot.]

I apologize for the late prompt; I got some unexpected news this morning. However, experienced PAD poets probably already knew what today’s Two-for-Tuesday prompt would be.

For today’s Two-for-Tuesday prompt:

  1. Write a love poem. All you need is love.
  2. Write an anti-love poem. What’s love got to do with it?

Let’s do this!


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Click to continue.


Here’s my attempt at a Love and/or Anti-Love Poem:

“when love isn’t enough”

when love isn’t enough
& you’re hiding from the world
under blankets & pillows
while the lonely planet spins
& lonely people work
where you feel you can’t go on

i admit i don’t know how
to help you or why the world
is so different for each of us
who wander it searching
for what we often don’t find
& i know you may not care

but i love you


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 wishes he could give the whole world a hug sometimes.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.


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177 thoughts on “2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 28

  1. Sara McNulty

    A Love and An Anti-Love Poem


    words dance in her head
    small phrases stick together
    love of language
    as ideas become writing
    and written words are spoken


    yearning for power
    wealthy, slick, spouting pledges
    that benefit themselves
    the people’s votes not counted
    the people’s voices unheard

  2. tunesmiff

    G. Smith (BMI)
    Love is patient,
    Love is kind;
    Love is sometimes,
    Hard to find.

    Love is trusting,
    Love endures;
    Give love away,
    Love is yours.

    L is for Lifting up your brother,
    O is for the Other that you think of;
    V is for the Very least among us,
    E reminds you that you
    Cannot give Enough.
    And you know it, you know it when you spell it;
    There ain’t no “why” in LOVE.

    Love gives,
    Love receives;
    Love celebrates,
    And love grieves.

    Love is tender,
    Love’s a choice,
    Love holds no grudge;
    We rejoice.

    L is for lifting up your brother,
    O is for the Other that you think of;
    V is for the Very least among us,
    E reminds you that you,
    Cannot give Enough,
    And you know it, you know is when you spell it;
    There ain’t no “why” in LOVE.

    Love secures,
    Love lasts;
    Love’s not a feeling,
    Love doesn’t pass;

    L is for Lifting up your brother,
    O is for the Other that you think of;
    V is for the Very least among us,
    E reminds you that you
    Cannot give Enough.
    And you know it, you know it when you spell it;
    There ain’t no “why” in LOVE.

    Yes you know it when you spell it;
    There ain’t no “why” in LOVE.

  3. robinamelia

    Love’s Grown Old

    Fuzzy slippers, pilled wool sweaters, dreadful comforts–
    glamor girl’s gone frumpy and why not, the old man glowers
    at the nightly news and watches doom draw near.

    This is the fate she chose, and she’s wearing it down
    to the nub, like the worn rug the wood shows through,
    as they walk the circle of marital blame:

    who’s worse, who started it, who really ever knew what it meant
    to love, who is going to shut the door. but neither wants to be alone
    and alone is all that exists outside the rusty merry go round.

  4. taylor graham


    Crackpot, the neighbors called him, the man
    nobody loved; Old Buzzard, schoolboys yelled
    at the man nobody loved. A tragedy, girls said
    of the man nobody loved. Summer’s buzzards
    have flown, along with the man nobody loved,
    who lies now in graveyard – the man nobody
    loved among so many of his townsmen –
    the man nobody loved under his own stone.
    It doesn’t read The Man Nobody Loved. Dead,
    he’s a pillar of the old order, the man nobody
    loved in life. All is illusion, he often said –
    the man nobody loved. Earth gives like a sponge
    under footprints, above the man nobody loved,
    and moss covers everything, even the man
    nobody loved. And wind whispers his name,
    not “the man nobody loved.”

  5. MET

    The Reason Why I Love You, Lord

    I know you loved me
    From the time I was formed, but
    I did not know it, and
    Did not believe it.
    I heard the stories
    Of the cross carried for me…
    The blood that was spilt for me, and
    The flesh that died for me.
    I scoffed, and turned away.

    I kept turning and running…
    There you were stalking me…
    And more than once I asked…
    “Why me?”
    You just kept knocking, and
    I bolted the door shut, and
    Cut out the lights.

    I wanted none of this.
    My life had no place for God;
    I had a different life planned, but
    There I was on my own road
    Taking me to Damarcus
    There I planned to discredit you,
    And you asked me
    “Why not me?”
    I had no answers.
    Face to face
    I relented and bowed down
    Asking for forgiveness.

    I love you not because
    You died for me…
    Knowing that did not open my heart.
    I love not because
    You forgave me…
    It lifted a heavy weight, but
    I did not know that until I was released.

    I love you, Lord,
    For no matter how far or how fast
    I ran or locked the doors…
    You did not let me get too far, and
    Though I saw only brokenness…
    You saw me, and
    Loved me where
    I was, and
    Taught me to do the same.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 28, 2017

  6. MET

    The Ghosts Who Live with Me

    The whispers of the wind
    Carries voices no longer spoken, and
    There I catch a sound remembered.

    A feather floats downward
    From the myriad of trees, and
    I see your invisible hand giving it to me.

    An earring goes missing
    From where I left it, and
    Shows up in a drawer I rarely open.

    Cats watch ghosts
    I cannot see, and
    Huddle closer to me.

    As I drift off to sleep
    I hear my name called
    And sweet dreams wished.

    At every turn in my life,
    Except my car,
    There you are the loves of my life.

    I live with memories and ghosts
    People I loved, and
    Smile for I am never quite alone.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 28, 2017

  7. Eileen S

    Valentine’s Day

    Quite a few years ago,
    When I was in school,
    I thought Valentine’s Day
    Was invented by fools.

    Cupid, take your bow
    And go far away.
    I don’t want anymore
    Of Valentine’s Day.

    He appeared at once
    And shot at my heart.
    When the arrow hit me,
    Quickly, I fell apart.

    Then I picked myself up
    And saw my love there.
    His eyes gazing at mine
    The feeling of floating on air.

    His sparkling green eyes
    Reminds me of our bliss.
    His beautiful smile
    Fuels my happiness.

    Now I look at the flowers.
    While I eat the sweet candy.
    Cupid, do listen to me,
    And have your bow handy.

  8. Misky

    A Gecko and a Man in a Black T-Shirt

    I’m looking at a man wearing
    a thin, frayed black t-shirt.
    He has a whisper of white hair,
    wiry sideburns that sweep
    his shoulders
    whenever he nods his head.
    I can’t keep my eyes off his face;
    I keep looking at those sideburns.
    Whale baleen, strainers —  that’s
    what they look like.
    And on the wall beside him is
    a numbered lithograph, a neon
    green gecko. Its head is angled,
    a star-struck stare into mid-air.
    It’s all incongruous —
    that gecko greening-up the wall
    draining colour from the room,
    including those baleen brooms.
    I detest facial hair.

  9. Kiri


    The memories are difficult to conjure
    and equally as formidable to forget.
    I wish that I were skilled at either
    but I am innocuous, and caught in a middle state;
    a place and reflex that I have come to understand as love.

    The kind that lengthens the death of the opera’s hero
    and allows him easy access to his tenor while bleeding out
    beneath the sword of his rival
    so that he may sing eternity to his beloved
    as she weeps in aria

    from alto to soprano, a wordless libretto, understood,
    giving the villain pause to consider
    the gravity of his crime against her
    until there is only remorse and recollection,
    a longing for a better end than what might have been.

  10. MET

    The Old Black Rocker

    Sometime in my childhood
    The rocking chair whose
    Back and seat wore out
    Was painted black by my mother, and
    My father weaved a new seat and back
    From bright blue braid made in mill
    My aunt had worked.
    No one fixed the clip-clop
    Sound that rocker made
    As Ma rocked and crooned
    “Oh, my little baby…”
    To her own when they were small…
    To nieces and nephews,
    Friend’s babies and grandchildren.
    We all heard the same song sung…
    To the tune of the Missouri Waltz.
    As her arms held us close
    Her warming love
    Lulled us to sleep.
    I loved that old black rocker.
    It wasn’t much as far as looks, but
    The memories it created
    As we listened to her croon
    To the next generation.
    As is often with old furniture,
    That old rocker got lost along the way-
    Replaced by a strong regal oak one.
    I hope that new one
    Will someday be battered, and
    Loved for the memories
    Created when some woman
    Rocks her babies, and
    Croons them to sleep with love.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 28, 2017

      1. MET

        thanks and it is…. in the beginning of the movie Winter’s Bone… they sing the Missouri waltz… I was in the kitchen getting a drink to have with me when I watched the movie.. and I almost dropped my glass when the song started… Ma had been the only one besides me that sang it.. our version but it was like one of those moments

  11. deringer1

    Love is the strongest force in all the word.
    Love is awareness of another’s pain.
    Love is wanting the other to be blessed,
    and love will never look for selfish gain.

    Love is awareness of another’s pain,
    is offering an encouraging word,
    taking time to listen with all your heart.

    Love is wanting the other to be blessed,
    sharing our resources where needs arise,
    rejoicing in another’s happiness.

    Love will never look for selfish gain,
    never live in ease while others suffer
    but always live in humble gratitude.

    he claimed he loved her
    but his jealousy destroyed her love
    then, she, to take revenge,
    left him alone to die.

    a parent left a child behind
    thinking only of self,
    so trust was forever destroyed
    and the world left in tears

  12. Eileen S

    two short poems. Busy day at work.

    love is a cocoon
    nurtures when the chips are down
    happy hearts flutter

    Royal Engagement Legacy

    Prince Harry gives engagement ring to Meghan Markle.
    The bride to be wears Diana’s diamonds which sparkle.

  13. Walter J Wojtanik


    Crazy love.
    It will turn your head
    and leave you for dead.
    It will lay in your bed
    and toss and turn
    while you yearn
    for a gentle touch
    that you need so much
    to nurture and such.
    But crazy love is a crutch.
    you rely on its support
    from cohort to cohort,
    and it is a last resort
    for a crippled heart.
    You start to stumble,
    feel less humble
    and you stammer and mumble
    familiar words she had heard
    that are sour like curds
    of rotten cheese.
    Puts you to your knees
    begging pretty please,
    as you cough and wheeze
    (and whine and sneeze)
    thinking her bees knees
    will shake your trees.
    I’ve heard it said
    we’d be out of our head,
    or that’s what I read
    (or just what you dread!)
    But, you think I’m too lazy
    and this is crazy.
    Crazy love.
    It will give a thrill,
    then make you ill
    (and there is no pill
    to kill this bug)
    No kiss, no hug,
    nor roll on the rug,
    just a steady tug
    on your heart strings,
    a true heart attack
    It will always bring you back.
    It’s never too late
    to resuscitate!
    Crazy love!

  14. Pat Walsh

    in their armor
    by Patrick J. Walsh

    together they rise
    clanking up the side
    of the hill in the light
    of the sun

    their tin steps echo
    with a cry of old hurt
    and a sigh of worry
    about the world

    he reaches for her
    and clasped as if
    welded together
    they climb on

  15. KM


    It’s been a hard year to love. With every headline, a thickening of the skin, a shell forming around a once hopeful heart. So, necessity has invented new passions. Balms, for myself and my kids. Dance parties to pop songs I used to hate. More time reading — escaping into fairy lands, fantastic realms, places where the heroines discover the light, no matter how dark the journey. I look at old photos with new eyes. My cousin, gone now, but beaming then, so near the end. The radiant smile everyone mentions in their tributes. My baby niece smirking in her sleep, not just contentment, but happiness that she is here. Existence itself a marvel. A photo of my daughters on my sister’s lap, summer sun making them all squint. Determination engraved on their faces, like a monument to great change ahead.

    – Kim Mannix

  16. Janet Rice Carnahan


    Flowers ordered
    Dress is pressed
    Shoes polished
    Timing laid out
    Suits are clean
    Invitations are out
    Wedding on
    Fear creeping in
    Uncertainty follows
    Tension takes over
    Doubt doubles
    Mind clouded with anger
    Frustration begins boiling
    Blame expands
    Love disappears
    Drowned in momentary madness
    Convinced we can’t go on
    ‘What does your heart say?’
    ‘My heart still loves her.’
    ‘Ok, trust it’.
    ‘You’re right
    Wait, has anyone
    Seen the ring?’
    Convinced the heart is true
    Stepping back in
    In Love
    Without a doubt

  17. Valkyri

    So Many Loves…

    If I said to you:
    “The smell of a baby’s head…”
    your reply to me would be:
    “The sound of walking on autumn leaves…”
    and we could go on and on like that.
    The smell of bread,
    a kitten’s purr,
    watching a sunset’s glow,
    a cool breeze on a hot day,
    the sweet taste of ice cream,
    the way your hand feels in mine…
    We could volley these things
    back and forth with each other
    for a year and a day…
    It is easy to recognize
    small instances of love
    in everything around us.
    Be grateful and humble
    for each tiny one.
    There are so many loves,
    yet so little time…

  18. Earl Parsons

    To Love or Not To Love

    The biggest joy one will ever feel
    Is the joy that comes from love
    Being in love or being loved
    Or both, if one is so fortunate

    In contrast

    The biggest pain one will ever feel
    Is the pain of love lost
    Once found there is no replacement
    Except for the pain that fills the void

    So the question

    Is it better to have loved and lost
    Or to have chosen to never love
    Is the pain worth the experience
    Or the experience worth the pain

    I contend

    The idea of never loving is harsh
    Even with the risk of the pain of loss
    Never knowing love, in the end
    Can be even more painful

  19. taylor graham

    the Pioneer Cemetery

    Who would roam this old graveyard by day
    dressed in blood-red, quite blind to a bright, living world?

    You read inscriptions, marvel at how
    time and weather can scrub a lifetime’s details away.

    She hovers – eyes wide saucers, intense
    blank pupils; abandoned, drooping lids – then disappears.

    Is she mourning a world of love lost
    before she was gone too, dead too soon, only a girl?

    Button your jacket against sudden
    cold, and a mist that rises neither from fields nor swale.

    Come back on a sunny day and look
    if she’s there, when even cypress casts a pleasant shade.

  20. Daniel Paicopulos

    Where Is the Love?

    Love is everywhere,
    in the coffee in the morning,
    in the movies that we share,
    in the songs that others sing.

    Love is in the air,
    in odd spaces so it seems,
    in the cats for whom we care,
    in wishes, hopes and dreams.

    Love is not so rare,
    not very far away,
    seen by those who dare,
    beside the place I stay.

    Love is always there,
    when it seems not yet to be,
    for you my Mrs. fair,
    standing next to me.

  21. carolemt87

    Anti-love poem:

    All the words we cannot say

    Grey clouds droop and
    snow thickens the air
    bow and arrow birds race
    south across the crackled moon.
    Coyotes cry from the timber.

    I see candle glow as I walk
    by your house, warm amber
    reflection on the oak
    dining room table.

    I resist the urge to hurl
    a big rock through
    your window; I want
    all the shattering
    for myself.

    I remember how I thought
    you were the answer,
    that one true thing.

    Instead, we are just
    an afternoon of
    rumpled sheets.

    Tonight, as always,
    I’ll return to
    my tiny apartment,
    the scent of your cologne
    in my hair and while
    you sleep next
    to that woman.

    I’ll make some tea
    sit at my desk
    with a new sheet of paper
    and write down
    all the words
    we cannot say.

    Love poem:

    Let the years go softly

    Let the years go softly
    moonlight through the walnut leaves
    your back warm against mine
    you sleeping me awake
    your breath rising and falling
    into a lullaby.

    Let the years go softly
    your favorite winter
    we made love in almost
    every room, in front of the
    woodstove, breaking that
    old twin bed.

    Let the years go softly
    you, lover of summer green
    craving sunlight in dark
    February, me loving the dark
    and crystal stars, let snow whisper
    blurring the sharp edges of
    cold gray mornings.

    Let the years go softly
    your hand in mine
    my head nested against
    your shoulder, breathing
    our lullaby
    at night.

    Carol J Carpenter 2016

  22. De Jackson

    This Ain’t Love

    This poem is a fickle mistress, a wandering
    soul. She might stay awhile, and smile. She

    might go home to the moon at any moment.
    She’ll leave a note, but only the most tre

    -bled clefs, no rest, no selah. She’s got a mind
    of her own and lipsticked lips that say she’s

    a gypsy girl, a swirl of indigo on a disappearing
    page. The gist? She’ll jilt you, tilt you sideways

    and leave you wanting. Haunted. Daunted be
    -yond what you can bear. She’ll wear your shirt

    and the scent of her will linger forever. She’s a
    goddess, and you’ll long for her long dark hair

    until you can no longer breathe, nor believe
    there is anything else in the world but her sound

    -less stare. It’s time to quit her, sit her down and
    say the tirade of things on your too-full tongue,

    lash her with words and switch and pitch her
    back where she belongs. But you won’t. Oh, you

    won’t. Because she’s a temptress, a seductive sylla
    -bled siren whose song you must swallow whole,

    whose soul has sifted into your bones, in sacred
    befuddled bliss. And if this ain’t love, what is?

  23. MET

    No Longer Needed

    She was a defiant little thing
    Three years old, blew out of foster homes
    For biting, cussing, and spitting.
    She would let no one close to her.
    She told me often,
    “I hate you Mary Todd.”
    I responded, “That is okay, I love you.’
    Her response was to spit at me.
    I said nothing…
    She would be difficult to reach, but
    I was persistent and stubborn,
    And strong willed enough
    To repay for every spit, kick, bite
    She gave to me… with kindness
    And more patience than I had sometimes.
    I knew there had to be a way to unlock
    That frozen heart of hers…
    Never knew a little one so filled with rage.
    I knew those who froze it, and it would take time.
    One day this daring marauder
    Of my heart, because I did love her.
    Pushed me to breaking, but
    I did not know she was also.
    She had screamed hate and rage, and
    Again, I told her she was loved.
    She collapsed on a couch sobbing.
    Her tears undid me for she was not one to do so.
    She fell into exhausted sleep.
    I talked to her foster parents, and hoped
    My words would keep them going.
    Each move made it harder for her to trust.
    We talked a long time.
    As I was leaving…
    This tiny warrior, who guarded her heart,
    Ran across the room and grabbed my legs
    Clinging tightly to me, then looking up
    Said words that went to my soul,
    “Mary Todd, I love you.”

    She would go on to others who could give her more.
    It was sad the day I said to goodbye, but
    She was ready more than I for my departing.
    As I drove away that last day…
    I knew it would be for good, and
    I was no longer needed.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 28, 2017

  24. thunk2much

    Love letter for Bo on his last day

    These last hours
    are making tracks
    as they walk across our hearts
    the nails click-clacking like
    paw prints in concrete
    stepping stones for the garden
    we will plant for you in spring
    someplace sunny for you
    my love,
    how you’ve always loved to bask
    and these last many months
    we kept you in
    because of the medicine
    everything about side-effects
    about day by day to make it last
    to make you last for
    just one more day

  25. PowerUnit

    Ice Cold Love

    I’m not about to change my ways
    just because you say it’s okay,
    so please get it out of your mind
    that I’ll be pleasant or I’ll be kind.
    When I leave there’ll be no regrets,
    But don’t be scared and have no frets.
    I won’t do things called upon me.
    I have no locks that have no keys.
    If you don’t accept me for who I am
    and there’s no extra, no overflow
    no fancy biscuits with honey or jam
    you’ll understand why I can’t let me go.
    When we hold hands as we walk by the pool
    you’ll smile and thank me for being so cool.

  26. JRSimmang


    construct this
    veritable monotone
    clusion; twist
    twist the red ribbon-
    tie our hands
    so that our breaths may
    envelop our fingertips
    mine to your
    desperate rhythm.
    It’s messy. It should be, my

    -JR Simmang

  27. Jrentler

    Hey Fellow Poets, sorry for the repost of my shine entry!

    this is for today:


    if i had 3 hearts
    each 4-chambered
    & locked

    could you
    squeeze through
    the keyhole

    or would you
    shoot your ink
    papering my halls
    with palavar

    till blind & bound
    i drown
    on your every word

  28. Jrentler

    strike the moonlight

    for a candle is only 1800
    while a cloudless sky burns
    10,000 kelvins above

    & it’s not the tungsten orange
    nor the hydrargyrum blue
    or waves of diode

    beyond the open gate
    the lens waits to flip
    one upside down

    till you walk the heavens
    & never the ground again

  29. dittman

    Quiet Song

    So that you may hear me this afternoon
    I lower my voice, and let my longing
    reverberate against the canopy
    of mountain laurels.
    I suck you in with the air:
    your strong legs,
    your waist of fog.

    From the summit there is nothing but
    a lack of busy cars on
    sad gray rivers of highway slicing through the mountains.
    I whisper, as if in prayer, Let me stay
    for a moment in these woods of rain
    and crimson salamanders whose
    slick skin whispers against
    your palm as they beam out quiet and smug smiles.

    Let me trade my life; instead,
    let me dance to the howling of wind through earrings.
    Let me stay here exposed on granite hills, awakened lips parted.
    Let this low still voice be exchanged for booming laugh.

  30. grcran

    above the glove of love

    I) you wore your glove of love
    your hand covered my eye
    my ears perceived your sigh
    lips trembled by and by
    said glove was cool yet hot
    could catch me i was caught
    full glad to have been got
    well-fielded by your glove
    II) i gave the shove of love
    my wits pushed you to me
    pulled us to ecstasy
    we kayaked in love’s sea
    we paddled rode love’s wave
    one innocent one brave
    exuberant yet brave
    a helpful gentle shove
    III) learned the above of love
    remembered deep inside
    smiles faded teardrops dried
    saw selves and worlds collide
    strode healthy from the rift
    most grateful for the gift
    the glove the shove the lift
    around under above

    gpr crane

  31. Holly

    Moon has set, roses
    have dropped their petals. Love is
    what remains…or not.

    (Robert, wishing you peace and courage as you work through the news you have received.)

  32. Jezzie


    “Love hurts, love scars,
    Love wounds and marks”

    When your love gets thrown back into your face,
    what else can you do but try it again?
    For richer, for poorer, we should cherish
    in sickness and health, in sunshine and rain.

    But when your erstwhile love starts wearing thin
    and love’s become just a cruel ping-pong game
    or a fight that you cannot hope to win,
    should we still cherish each other the same?

    Two embittered people, two shattered lives
    more, for children are badly affected too
    by betraying husbands or battered wives.
    Isn’t it time to quit and start anew?

    Love comes, love flows,
    love turns, love goes.

  33. annell

    Without You

    Cold dark lonely longing
    Without you
    I awake and you are gone
    The chamber empty
    You journey to another place
    Leaving me lonely
    My letters returned unopened
    Seal unbroken
    Lost without you

    November 29, 2017

  34. Terry Jude Miller

    do you love me?
    by Terry Jude Miller

    the uncomfortable question
    whose answer comes
    with caveats and road maps
    qualifications and conditions

    but buried somewhere else
    is that gem-like love
    made solid by pressure
    tested by high-tempeatures
    proven indestructible

  35. annell

    What is A Love Poem

    what is a love poem     how will I know it      if I find one

    what should it look like     will it have a special form     will it be filled with words of love

    hugs and kisses     or will it just be like other poems      just words

    woven together     to create fine cloth     with original patterns

    i was told once     the secret is in the fabric     the idea was

    if you are the one      who raises the sheep     cards the wool

    weaves the cloth    you will put sacred symbols     into the cloth

    will a love poem be like that     will it be a special treasure     hidden in the clenched fist

    or tucked into the pocket     to be found later     what are words of love

    how are you    how was your day     can I help you with your boots

    may I prepare food for you     what would you like      love is in the air

    love makes everything better     no longer lonely     no more longing

    love fills the empty places in your heart    safe     and secure

    Abstracted poem from, What is A Love Poem

    What is a love poem
    What should it look like
    Hugs and kisses
    Woven together

    I was told once
    If you are the weaver
    Who weaves the cloth
    Will you fill it with love

    Will a love poem be like that
    Will it be a special treasure
    Hidden in the clenched fist
    You are a poet
    Putting love into everyday words
    Create a love poem

  36. candy

    Pop Up Tree

    i bought it at a church rummage sale
    it came in a square white box
    that was a little torn
    a little worn
    a five foot pop-up tree
    with short artificial branches
    and shiny artificial discs for
    it is a yellowy kind of green
    that any self respecting tree
    would be ashamed of
    but it sparkles in the morning
    sun shining through the window
    and creates abstract reflections
    on the wall and ceiling
    it makes me smile and
    i love it
    but my husband –
    well, that would be anti-love

  37. Anthony94

    What I Still Love

    I love how your messages lodge
    inside my phone, no need to dry
    my soapy hands and try to get
    there before the ringing stops

    I love how we are instant in our
    sending ideas, thoughts, bouyancies
    for the day when the clouds have
    set in and the wind gusts send bird
    seed flying across the gravel

    I love that we feel safe enough
    to write our hearts, to thumb
    a ride on our thoughts and share
    Them across the uncertain miles

    I love that we’ve come this far
    so that we’re no longer tethered
    to the twisted cord in the corner
    the party line spilling too much

    I love that just maybe we’re more
    in touch than before but just in case
    you’ve got a minute now and then
    I still love to hear your voice.

  38. tripoet

    Love Everywhere

    I once knew a young man
    who drove to California
    by way of South Carolina
    to get his surfboard
    and found a lady
    in the local pub
    who he soon thereafter
    married. Later they settled
    in Costa Rica where he left
    her and their baby to follow
    his new love to the northeast.
    As a teen, he harmonized
    with Johnny Cash songs, blaring
    in his Cherokee Jeep
    as he crossed state lines
    and a number of young loves
    trailing from Kansas City clear down to Texas.
    Just a rolling stone without a care
    he seemed to find love everywhere.

  39. Walter J Wojtanik


    I never think of Christmas as a job.
    Not a chore and not an obligation.
    It is never a challenge, this work we do,
    because between me and you, what we do
    is a blessing. It’s a labor of love!
    For in a thought and a wink of an eye,
    as we fly across the December sky,
    we get this warm feeling, my reindeer and I,
    this… sense of pure joy for the souls we’ve touched,
    for hundreds of years (and we love it that much).

    The look of wonder on all children’s faces,
    from near and from far and from exotic places
    touches me back in a hundred good ways!
    Yet, there are days I wish I could do more
    for the less fortunate who languish there,
    and for those I carry a special prayer.
    Food for their hunger and loving arms to hold them,
    regard for their welfare by folks who care.
    For Santa is more than presents and toys,
    I carry great love for all girls and boys.

    Christmas, you see is a Claus tradition,
    and touching all these souls is my mission.
    It is not a job nor obligation.
    It’s an act of pure love, it is my cause.
    It is the “soul” reason I’m Santa Claus.

    1. tripoet

      Robert, when you can, please let us know that you are ok. Your poetry mates care about you, BIG TIME.
      May you walk in Grace. May You Walk in Peace and May You Walk with Trust in good tomorrows. Blessings, Annie

  40. MET

    It Ain’t Love

    Love wasn’t there
    When you took your daughter
    And put her in hot water
    In a tub for wetting her pants.
    Anger was; but love wasn’t.

    Love wasn’t there
    When your man came home drunk,
    And while he slept
    Slit the mattress to show him you could.
    Rage was; love wasn’t.

    Love wasn’t there
    When you left your mother in bed clothes
    On a winter day on a street in a strange town
    Because she was too much manage.
    Irritation was; love wasn’t.

    Love wasn’t there
    When you did your daughter
    Because she was yours, and
    No one else was going to be first.
    Lust was; love wasn’t.

    Love wasn’t there
    When your son fails a grade,
    You blacked his eye, and
    Put a pistol to his head.
    Fury was; love wasn’t

    You will sit down across
    From some caseworker
    And tell them how much
    That loved one is loved.
    I am here to tell you, “It ain’t love.”

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 28, 2017

    I know ain’t is not a word… but it seemed to fit better than isn’t…MET

      1. MHR

        yes, I know, there are a lot of people out there who truly do not know the difference and it’s both infuriating and heartbreaking. With the foster care experience in your belt, I assume you see a lot of that.

  41. Walter J Wojtanik


    There is only one true gift
    to give at Christmas time,
    and I’m of a mind of it
    being the only gift I’d give.

    It has been my fervent wish
    for as long as I’ve lived
    (and I’ve lost count of all
    the birthdays I’ve had,)

    that this gift would come
    right from my heart,
    it would start as a thought
    that ought to be one we all shared.

    If we dared to offer each other
    this simple gift of Christmas spirit,
    we’d hear it resound all around the world,
    our banners unfurled declaring

    We have been blessed.
    If you wonder what this gift might be,
    you’d see it was the perfect present,
    this gift from up above.

    The gift is love.
    It was the first gift of Christmas,
    the only one true gift.
    If I only had one gift to give, I wouldn’t pause.
    I’ll give my Christmas love to all! I am Santa Claus.

  42. Walter J Wojtanik


    I know sometimes it’s a little cheesy,
    but I’ll tell you I’ll love you forever.
    Whenever we walk on the shore, it’s breezy,
    sometimes it might sound a little cheesy.
    But you go out of your way just to please me
    in ways that are heartfelt and clever.
    I know sometimes it’s a little cheesy,
    but I’ll tell you I’ll love you forever.

    1. De Jackson

      Dear Chocolate,

      I’ll tell you that I’ll love you forever.
      I’ve tried to quit you, but it never sticks.
      No matter the whim, or will, or weather,
      I’ll tell you that I’ll love you forever.
      We’ll always be sweet when we’re together,
      and up to our old indulgent tricks.
      I’ll tell you that I’ll love you forever.
      I’ve tried to quit you, but it never sticks.

      1. Walter J Wojtanik


        I’ve tried to quit you, but it never sticks.
        Unless we’re talking around my waist.
        Then it makes me look real thick.
        I’ve tried to quit you, but it never sticks.
        I love the flavor I savor ’til I’m sick,
        I’m a goner at first taste!
        I’ve tried to quit you, but it never sticks.
        Unless we’re talking around my waist.

        1. De Jackson

          Nothing To Lose

          Unless we’re talking about my waist,
          which could use to lose a gra(ha)m or two.
          Nothing will change if I have a taste,
          unless we’re talking about my waist,
          which is a little marshmallow-y, it must be faced.
          But I still want s’more – hey, wouldn’t you?
          Unles we’re talking about my waist,
          which could use to lose a gra(ha)m or two.

          1. Walter J Wojtanik

            OFF MY CRACKER

            I’m a guy what could use to lose a gra(ha)m or two.
            I am surely honey sweet to satisfy your tooth.
            I have enough, I’ll share with you,
            Me, the guy what could use to lose a gra(ha)m or two.
            Slathered with jelly, or dipped in yogurt too,
            it would be a delectable treat, forsooth!
            I’m a guy what could use to lose a gra(ha)m or two.
            I am surely honey sweet to satisfy your tooth.

          2. De Jackson

            For the Love of Pooh

            He’s surely honey sweet to satisfy your tooth,
            with think-think ponderings to please your soul.
            His way of fooling bees might be uncouth,
            but he’s surely honey sweet to satisfy your tooth.
            All I know is I’ve adored him since my youth,
            when Hundred Acre Wood was the place to go.
            He’s surely honey sweet to satisfy your tooth,
            with think-think ponderings to please your soul.

          3. Walter J Wojtanik


            With think-think ponderings to please your soul,
            Pooh sez: “Oh bother, why bother?”
            Christopher Robin is in full control,
            with think-think ponderings to please your soul.
            Rabbit and Eeyore are gathering coal,
            they’re expecting a blustery day like no other.
            With think-think ponderings to please your soul,
            Pooh sez: “Oh bother, why bother?”


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