2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 4

We’re poeming into the weekend!

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Whosoever (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Whosoever Objects to This Union,” “Whosoever Wants to Eat My Candy,” or “Whosoever Doesn’t Wash Their Hands After Flushing.”


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Here’s my attempt at a Whosoever Blank Poem:

“whosoever thinks camping in their yard is a good idea”

should remember that the kids will want to run in
and out of the house until the porch lights go out

should remember that the ground is as hard in
one part of georgia as another & there’s no doubt

a reason why people have evolved to sleep in
houses but the kids will have fun inside & out


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 spent last night “sleeping” in a two-person tent with his daughter, while his son and a few of his friends slept in the six-person tent. Tall people don’t have a lot of space in small tents. But it was worth it.

Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.


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278 thoughts on “2017 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 4

  1. ToniBee3

    to whosoever will hear it

    whensoever love sings
    whatsoever song it decides to sing
    wheresoever it chooses to sing it
    howsoever it wants to sing it
    to whosoever will hear it,
    ears will not be required

  2. Bruce Niedt

    Joining Walt and De with a triolet:

    Whosoever Followed

    Who made this place we’ve fallen to?
    It’s purgatory here on Earth,
    and whosoever followed through,
    who made this place, we’ve fallen, too.
    A beastly king without a clue,
    whose only claim is noble birth,
    who made this place. We’ve fallen to
    its purgatory here on Earth.

  3. MHR

    Title: Whosoever knocked the themostat-
    You will pay, gravely.
    In a cold, dark, corner where no one will ever find you,
    Not even your kind-hearted mother.
    You will undoubtedly
    ROT for all I care.
    While I will cocoon myself around a fireplace,
    With my cats and my ugly sweaters.
    But because of you, you sick hound dog,
    I’ve been bundled in crimped blankets-
    With intricate red and green design…
    …maybe there were white Christmases on your mind-
    But it is not on mine.
    Please don’t fool with the weather; for whosoever knocks the themostat-
    Will feel the wrath of my ice cracked
    BLADE when it skewers into your wretched blame.

  4. Kayla

    Whosoever Believes He’s Wrong For Me

    Those who look and only see
    A man who is all wrong for me
    Don’t see the affection in our eyes
    This love is everything but a lie
    I’ve never felt so warm in an embrace
    I’ve never seen such a caring face
    I’ve never been able to truly believe
    That love like this would come to me
    How could you not believe he is the one
    Through all my problems, to him I run
    I see years inside of his eyes
    I know we’ll last if we try
    Whosoever believes he’s wrong, know this
    No man could bring me such happiness

  5. candy

    Return Postage Included

    whosoever finds this broken heart
    is entitled to a reward
    upon delivery (patched
    and mended with fine stitching)
    to its original owner

    said finder must not
    drop it into a postal box
    reward will only be granted
    if hand delivered
    return postage is included

  6. JRSimmang


    We decided to put the house on the prominence and
    wrap the porch from south to north so
    that the front door wouldn’t receive too much sun.

    Out in the early morning still,
    the javelinas rustle through the thistles,
    and I wonder aloud why it is they can push aside the thorny leaves
    as I would your hair from your eyes
    while I have to wear long sleeves and pants to get from the house
    to the garden. I’ve never paid too much attention to the
    but the wild hogs lose themselves for hours in the dirt and
    root around for bliss and vanity,
    while I sip at my coffee and lose myself for hours in the sunrise and wind.

    You tell me that they’re wild animals,
    and if they could talk, they’d probably say the same thing.
    But, I disagree.

    My skin is thin, and my face made to laugh and love.
    My hips are made to bend into you, to find your curve
    and slide into the L-shaped solace you make when you
    stand in your studio with the paintbrush poised above you like you’re about
    to conduct an orchestra, or when you walk around barefooted and cold
    and the only thing between you and me is the throw you found on our couch.

    My body is not
    made to
    root under the thistles
    any more than yours is made
    to stand still.

    I should finish the path to the garden with
    pavers and a short fence on either side.

    -JR Simmang

  7. AsWritten


    There is no easy way
    to confirm conceit.

    Only God’s eye parses
    truth from farce

    So if you feel the power
    in your mind, I won’t deny

    you’re either right or wrong.
    Who am I to judge?

  8. robinamelia

    4. Whosoever

    Whosever reads these words may think of water, may
    dream of syrup, or long for nectar, but I write with blue ink
    this day, perhaps just the memory of ink,
    as everything fades away. Only that which is carved

    in stone remains. All future visitors from distant
    galaxies will know of us will be Gilgamesh, or “IN THIS TEMPLE
    AS IN THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE….” Might linger.
    God wrote with his finger on sapphire tablets

    that could be read on either side
    but they were broken. Shards likely turned to dust.
    Whosoever reads my words may
    more likely, then, think of dust,

    or rust, or decay, seeing how meaning leaks out of them,
    like tails from shooting stars. The supernovas we see exploded
    light years ago
    light years ago.

  9. Misky

    Whoever Said You Can’t Fly

    It’s late afternoon
    and the air feels electric.
    Metaphysical weather.
    Smells like thin snow,
    and for some reason,

    I’m thinking Santa, and
    our Christmas escape
    to Bogotá, and boxes
    of Cracker Jacks
    and a toy surprise.

  10. MET

    Warning Attached

    Whosoever becomes
    A child protective services worker…
    Take my warning
    If you want to travel lots of miles
    And go nowhere…
    Listen to lots of broken hearts and dreams…
    See children damaged by drugs
    Or caretakers who harmed them,
    And feel the pain of loving and
    Letting people go
    On a regular basis…
    Be shot at, knives pulled on you, and
    Beat up now and then…
    This job is for you…
    But if that is not what you want
    Run as fast as you can,
    Unless you care for those children, and
    The risks, the miles, and broken hearts, and grief
    Is worth every day and every minute of all of that stuff.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    November 4, 2017

      1. MET

        I was a foster care worker…. and though I was never shot at.. a couple of my co workers were… I did have knives pulled on me three times and beat up twice……and despite that I loved each of the over 800 children I worked with and some of their parents made me a better person… some taught me patience,,,

      1. MET

        it was at times and it was terribly funny at times in a gallows humor sort of way…we had a family that drove a dead man around the town plus much more…it made the news…

  11. Walter J Wojtanik


    We hear how Christmas should be more than just a day,
    that the spirit of peace and love should be our guide.
    But as soon as Christmas midnight comes around, it goes away
    making people feel so empty deep inside.

    That spirit of peace and love should be our guide
    three-hundred and sixty-five days through the year.
    Making people feel so empty deep inside
    is not the way to spread that “Christmas cheer”.

    Three-hundred and sixty-four days through the year
    some folks are too self-absorbed to hold that feeling.
    Not the way to spread that “Christmas Cheer”,
    yet some will fill their hearts with love, start healing.

    The folks so self-absorbed to keep that feeling
    will find it awfully hard to fill that role,
    while others find their starts through love. Start healing
    the ones without that spirit in their soul.

    Finding Christmas spirit will make them whole
    and carry them through each trial every day.
    The ones without that spirit in their soul
    will hopefully come though and find their way.

    To carry them through each trial every day,
    has become my sacred mission, my one cause.
    And hopefully they’ll come through and find their way,
    as sure as I believe I am Santa Claus.

    As sure as I believe I am Santa Claus,
    when Christmas midnight comes around, it will always stay.
    It truly has become my mission, my true cause.
    To carry Christmas for be than just a day.

    1. Marie Elena

      I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I so admire your ability to write piece after piece after piece on a single basic topic, and still manage to make each one extraordinarily well done. Amazing.

  12. Earl Parsons

    W H O S O E V E R

    W illie looked longingly in the mirror
    H is face had aged far beyond his years
    O ut of the corner of his eye he noticed
    S he was watching and smiling at the
    O ld fart as he intently inspected his face
    E motions took control and a tear leaked
    V ery slowly from the corner of his eye
    E lation overcame him when she
    R eached her arms around him in love

    © 2017 Earl Parsons

  13. pipersfancy

    Whosoever Seeks to Overthrow

    Things are different now. I’ve changed,
    met my melting point within the forge and
    emerged as something else, something
    fierce, indifferent to the spectacle of self-
    flagellation we learn as girls, before the first
    signs of puberty even make themselves known.

    I am no longer open to negotiate the value
    of my body, compromise the integrity of my
    borders. Whosoever seeks to overthrow
    my right to self-determination shall be refused
    entry to my inner self, trussed and tossed atop
    a growing pile of trash outside my castle walls.

  14. tunesmiff

    G. Smith
    Whosoever would follow Me,
    Must take a knee;
    Will be free,
    Follow Me.

    Whosoever would live by love,
    Will accept the Spirit from above;
    As a dove;
    Live by love.

    Whosoever would,
    Whosoever would,
    Whosoever would…will.

    Whosoever would claim My Name,
    Will lose his shame;
    Have no blame;
    Claim My Name.

    Whosoever would welcome these,
    Will be at ease,
    Live to please;
    Welcome these.

    Whosoever would,
    Whosoever would,
    Whosoever would…will.

    Whosoever would follow Me,
    Must take a knee;
    Will be free,
    Follow Me

    Whosoever would…will.

  15. deringer1

    will care deeply
    for all creation
    and all creatures
    will honor every human person
    as worthy of respect
    and support
    will remember that others are
    as important as themselves
    and stifle their pride
    will love well and truly
    clinging to hope
    and to truth
    that person will be
    an honored citizen of
    the Kingdom of God.

    1. deringer1

      This time I typed the poem directly into the comment box. Still each line starts right on the left margin. If anyone can tell me how to post a poem in the format in which I wrote it, I would appreciate it.

  16. Pat Walsh

    Whosoever Everyone
    by Patrick J. Walsh

    whosoever ponders my blue
    says the sky
    understands the furtive
    heart of the stranger

    whosoever trods on my green
    says the field
    knows why he recoils
    at the hint of contact

    whosoever feels heavy my gray
    says the night
    knows the sadness
    of those who toil alone

  17. Jrentler

    whosoever’s the pull-out prince

    bearing excaibur tip
    shall wear the crown

    yet, till then
    my, seeker of a friend

    skinny dip in stranger pools
    breastroke them leagues
    clock those blocks
    elevators rise
    up & up

    mountains seem so far
    till there you are
    at the base
    of your beginning

    the secret to the knight
    is not in the plating
    nor ascots waved
    feasts and parades

    tis the grip
    on the hilt
    of you
    that keeps whispering,

  18. KM

    Whosoever is just a formal way of saying whoever, but it sounds so much better with that extra “so” popped in for grandeur. You like to speak in this way — in this manner, I should say — and from anyone else I would think it pretentious, but it suits you. Your rod straight spine, good posture from years of piano playing, you once told me, and the perfect part in your hair. And who other than me has seen the wild heat in your eyes, felt your body slick with sweat, heard guttural grunts from the very same mouth that quotes gospel with perfect diction? I want you to tell me it’s been many. L-words are such sweet burden on the heart.

    – Kim Mannix

  19. Cynthia Page


    Whosoever hears my cries
    must quell before approaching,
    for that vocal gesture may hold
    one of two intentions.

    Must you come to my rescue
    only to succumb to my greed?
    Must you come to vanquish me
    when I only need your pity?

    Stand back, and look once more.
    Assess my needs with an open heart.
    for I am ever one of two minds.
    Alas, I know not which.

  20. Charley

    Whosoever Drinketh

    [Here comes she, bearing her plight.]
    (A man! Will his words carry sugar
    as does all the rest?)
    [She suffers more than she needs.
    Her exclusion from the throng
    is her own guilt.]
    (A Jew! Why is he waiting here,
    and at this hour?)
    [Her heart remains open – Thank
    you, Father!]
    (I cannot face him. He must know
    that I am an outcast. Perhaps
    if I ignore him.)
    [She cannot know that I am here
    to bring her back into the world
    of the living.]
    (Maybe he will ignore me.)

    “Will you give me some water?”

  21. Holly


    Oh whosoever wove verse so sere
    ere we row vers sheer shore
    where woes hover over shrew
    whose vows we serve.

    She, whose horse so rose,
    she, sore sower, ere we rove–
    We swerve over– we show her we’re here.
    We who serve ever woo her.

    (using only the letters in “whosoever)

  22. grcran

    whosoever whatever

    to wit to whosoever sees
    legalese’s appeal
    to hold good words within a vise
    to ice a mega-deal
    to reign over arraignment
    to wheedle-deedle pleas
    whose please and thank-you reek of smarm
    who shoots a sharper breeze
    i’d sooner stay away from those
    who call the courtroom home
    good words are better wild and free
    in some sweet song or poem

    gpr crane

  23. taylor graham

    a found poem

    It must be true. We use it in our lives
    to find distances that are real. Start the car.
    Feeling the rhythm, we will know
    who we are in a place full of mysteries
    and shadows. It has no need
    to make sense. We begin to believe,
    hoping there is somewhere in the endless
    plains, the alley – trying to memorize
    patterns of the streets, curves and
    intersections. It can’t see great holes
    impossible to walk across.
    Footsteps echo for a long time, speak
    to loneliness. A landscape seen in a fever
    like a world walking in deep snow.
    All shadows, all mystery.
    Everything becomes a murmur
    to emptiness. A great silence.
    A candle flickers.
    The sky overflows with stars as if
    one were praying. This is the true hour,
    the opening of the hand.

    [from D.R. Wagner’s poems on Medusa’s Kitchen 11/4/17]

  24. De Jackson

    Continuing Triolet Play from yesterday with Walter:

    Whosoever Hath an Angle, Hath Math

    A nice tool if you need an angle
    is the ruler to measure its lines.
    Whether a tri- or quad-rangle,
    it’s a nice tool if you need an angle
    (and the numbers you don’t want to mangle).
    With a ruler it works out just fine!
    A nice tool if you need an angle
    is the ruler to measure its lines.

    1. Walter J Wojtanik


      Muse is the ruler to measure our lines.
      In our expression it is the right tool.
      Invoking poetic license will draw no fines,
      muse is the ruler to measure our lines.
      Words spoil off our palettes like fine wines,
      to render us as inebriate poet fools.
      Muse is the ruler to measure our lines.
      In our expression it is the right tool.

  25. Linowen

    Whosoever Double Dippeth

    Whosoever double dippeth
    to the depths of chippeth dippets
    shall be smote with ‘guest non gratta,’
    shone the door. It doesn’t matta
    what excuse or ‘sorry for it’
    said guest says. We all deplore it!
    Take your chip, and hit the highway.
    This hostess says, “You’ll do it MY way.”
    When approaching dippeth platter
    one small chip shall your touch gather.
    One dip only in the cream sauce….
    Manners rule here like a Big Boss.
    So beware! The feast is set!
    Mindeth your manners. Be’eth our guest!

  26. Connie Peters

    Whosoever Dares

    Whosoever dares take off their shoes
    Give up their laptop and cell phone
    Raise their hands in a plexiglass tube
    Stand stocking-footed on printed feet
    Allow themselves to be patted down
    May pass to fly to wonderlands

  27. annell


    whosoever comes to me     whosoever opens the gate     whosoever shares my sorrow

    once i could name this whosoever     but now names erased     the slate clean

    this morning mild     overcast     the golden light

    of indian summer hangs on     the morning silent     i am not impatient

    but long for the transformation of snow     blankets of white     it is as if

    the whole world waits     anticipation in the air     the neighborhood dogs still sleep

    i also wait for the whosoever comes     opens the gate     shares my sorrow

    November 4, 2017

  28. Anthony94

    Whosoever Believes

    The morning fog cloaks like drizzle
    dripping from reddened leaves
    clinging to the slanting eaves
    of the barn across the road

    last tomatoes ripen in the mud
    room where acorn squash round
    beside muddy summer sandals
    the freezer with the blown compressor

    hunkers like some discarded ghost
    against the back wall as a single hawk
    circles above the backs of horses in
    the north pasture. It’s a painting with

    broad strokes, an open door.
    Whosoever believes can drape it in white
    or put blooms back on shriveled roses
    yellow kernels on the dried down corn

    but belief will only take you so far and
    tonight the sun will set at 5:15 and darkness
    will seal coldly lips that licked the little warmth
    of day as you take the deer track west

    become just another part of the landscape
    red jacket, grey cap, brown boots and who’s
    to say which part of the painting is most
    important? Whosoever believes, let them.

  29. headintheclouds87

    Whosoever Takes the Time

    Whosoever takes the time
    To listen to whimsical rhyme
    Shall find their ears all the richer
    And day all the sweeter
    For slowing their steps to hear
    The world’s song, quiet and unclear
    Beneath a drone of worry and fear.
    An elusive sound to find,
    But one that softens a tired mind
    For those willing to take the time.

  30. ReathaThomasOakley

    Whosoever surely meaneth

    Mama when she sang with gusto
    slapping her hand on the green
    plastic covered hymnal she
    didn’t really need ’cause she
    already knew
    it always meant her.

  31. Jezzie


    I hope that your person brought my flowers home to you
    Maybe you’ve been ill in bed for a week or two
    and needed cheering up. Maybe you had the flu?
    Or just maybe it could have been your birthday too.

    Those flowers were a present planted on my birthday
    by my daughter who emigrated far away,
    blooming to remind me of her every day.
    But now someone has taken all my blossoms away.

    All passers by are welcome to enjoy my flowers.
    They can smell their perfume as they pass by the bowers
    but now there are none left in the garden of ours.
    They were all stolen from me in the wee small hours.

    1. tripoet

      This is quite clever juxtaposing the notion of a non-violent person who is vegetarian with a person who will get angry when she feels threatened. But don’t worry about me. I am a very old lady and my eyes no matter where they are looking don’t see very far. 🙂

    1. MichelleMcEwen

      Hi! Thanks! As for the profile pic: when you’re logged in, click on “my profile”— wait, I’m not seeing a place to upload a pic. I think I might have signed in via my google account and that’s how the pic ended up on my profile.

  32. Kiri

    Whosoever Forces You To Go One Mile

    I imagine Atticus, lacing up the sneakers
    of black men, hurrying down the food desert
    highways, hands up, don’t shoot

    or shuffling steel-toed in the dirt track boots
    of the redneck nationalist, gun at ready
    and safety off, pacing the wall, walking tall

    catcalled in high heels and assaulted
    with words and eyes and hands, asking for it
    by existing; Atticus, you slut

    as he walks and draws a crowd of legs
    surrounding his feet and pulling at his coat
    while he slips on the high-top Chucks

    of the trans boys and girls, suddenly invisible
    and needing to pee, but all the doors are marked
    and guarded, humiliation in or out if anyone sees

    him rich and suited, shining leather one percenter
    sweat and privilege trickling down his face
    as he completes a mile and looks back

    at the scowling crowd, impatient for him to return
    to their ignorance, having done enough, his duty
    and offering back to him his own Macomb shoes.

    I imagine Atticus standing pointe on ballerina feet
    cracked and bloody bruising toes, handing
    his loafers to the dirty, barefoot latch-key child

    with eyes full of future, imagination, and blue

    “You asked me to walk one mile and I’ve done it.
    How about we make it two?”

    1. Pat Walsh

      Amazing work. Somewhere Harper Lee and Gregory Peck are both smiling. So many people could benefit from reading this poem and taking it to heart (although in some cases they might have to read it several times a day!). Truly beautiful.

  33. tripoet

    Whosoever Offends Grandma

    Grandma, overwhelmed by the loose talk
    bantered back at forth and dropped
    on the breakfast table, pronounces,
    “Whosoever talks in a demeaning fashion
    shaping words not meant for us to hear
    and whosoever does not take me seriously
    shall be out of my will. Have I made myself clear?”

    To which my mouthy teen responds,”Whatever”.

    To offend, now how is that so clever?
    Out of his granny’s good graces, he finds himself forever.
    Let’s hope my son has learned to use his manners better.

  34. thunk2much

    Whosoever said nothing…

    When we told you what happened,
    what was done against our will…

    When you saw it for yourselves,
    and turned away…

    When you told the jokes,
    or laughed along…

    When you didn’t notice (or pretended not to see)
    our wet eyes and red cheeks and sunken shoulders…

    When you said nothing and you go to sleep at night,
    expecting peace…

    May you dream only of us,
    struggling in the dark to find our way
    through the fortress of emptiness
    that your silence built for us.

  35. AsWritten


    Your smile changes
    day to day.
    Just enough to let me know
    it’s you.

    But your dreams –
    they never deviate
    from your heartfelt

    The way the wind
    whispers knowledge
    is constant.

    But the way you hear it
    along the path
    to your dreams

    is never quite the same
    day to day.

  36. Linda Rhinehart Neas

    Whosoever Journeys Here

    Be aware, life will not be easy.
    Challenges await like hungry ghosts
    gobbling up your energy and will.
    If you persist on this path,
    watch out for the pitfalls
    that are camouflaged in glitter and fame.
    No one gets to the top of the mountain
    without first fearlessly fumbling
    over the precarious promontories
    of culture shock and language.
    Once over those hurdles,
    life plateaus for many,
    bringing the tease of easy of days –
    the summit in sight, but still inaccessible.
    In order to reach the crest,
    contemptuous chasms must be conquered –
    prejudice, racism, hate in all its evil forms.
    Road-weary travelers who continue forward
    find relief in the hands, outstretched,
    of those who already made it,
    pulling them up.
    Until, at the zenith,
    they are truly able to be free.

      1. grcran

        could be wrong but i believe William was poeming off of the Willie Keeler quote “keep your eye on the ball and hit ’em where they ain’t”… well-done whatsoever in any event, William!

  37. Eileen S

    Whosever readith the King James Bible

    Remember what when on in England
    many centuries ago where Catholics

    were not allowed to practice their religion
    and were beheaded for doing so.

    King James Bible was the dictated Bible.
    If you as a Catholic read the King James Bible

    or even thought about doing so,
    you would be going straight to hell

    upon death and neither Pope Francis
    nor Brexit could save your soul.

    So whatsever you do, stay away from
    that detestable King James Bible.

      1. tripoet

        this line I thought was clever use of politics

        upon death and neither Pope Francis
        nor Brexit could save your soul.

        and a nugget that could be used in another poem if you chose to take this is a non-religious direction. 🙂

  38. Nancy Posey

    Whosoever Will

    We wait all year for the hymn sing
    when the sanctuary fills quickly
    with older folks, eager to turn pages
    of hymnals, lines of shapes notes
    fa, so, la, fa, so, la, mi, fa
    replacing the usual fare
    of powerpoint praise songs—
    lyrics only, commas optional.

    Asked for requests, we called out
    the numbers of the songs
    that took us back to ancient pews
    in our home churches—
    Gravelly Springs, New Prospect,
    Sandy Hook.

    We pay closer heed to the words now,
    songs of heaven and mercy,
    crossing the River Jordan
    remembering when we were young
    and called out 102, snickering
    as the church sang,
    I’ve reached the land of corn and wine.”

    The poetic syntax and King James English
    felt like that foretaste of glory divine
    as Night with Ebon Pinion floated in the air
    in four-part harmony. We thought back
    to the day we loosened our grip
    on the pew back, stepping into the aisle
    at alter call as Brother Ivan led the invitation:
    Whosoever Will May Come.

  39. dittman

    Whosoever Destroys, Restores

    In the woods above Lake Arthur,
    I came across a cairn,
    shards of shale scavenged from the moraines of the trail side,

    A new construction from the height of summer when,
    light blazing down in patches, the humidity coating my body,
    the salt of my body rested on my lips.

    The person who placed it there before me:
    someone who yearned to create a division between the wild and the known.
    his work a comfort to the lost; this duck with its beak pointing
    the way to go.
    You are not lost it whispered.
    You are not alone.
    I was here, where you stand now.

    I drew back my foot and kicked it hard,
    exalted with the way the stones returned
    among their brethren,
    and the dead branches,
    and the fallen leaves.

    1. grcran

      really nice feel to this, setting and pace of narrative, thanks for posting it… imo, could be read in many different ways, which is one of the marks of good poetry


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