2018 April PAD Challenge: Day 14

For today’s prompt, write a report poem. I know, I know: Writing a report sounds about as far away from poetry as flying is to a penguin, but many poems report on a moment or an instance or a scene. In your poem (or poems) today, report on something big and important or small and inconsequential (or small and important–or, well, you get the idea).


Re-create Your Poetry!

Revision doesn’t have to be a chore–something that should be done after the excitement of composing the first draft. Rather, it’s an extension of the creation process!

In the 48-minute tutorial video Re-creating Poetry: How to Revise Poems, poets will be inspired with several ways to re-create their poems with the help of seven revision filters that they can turn to again and again.

Click to continue.


Here’s my attempt at a Report Poem:

“another evening”

the husband & wife liked to fight
but only when it didn’t matter
neither (or both!) were ever right
but the proud couple liked to fight
raising their voices in the night
in a ceaseless song of chatter
the husband & wife liked to fight
though it never seemed to matter


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He is happy to report he’s written two triolets this month now.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


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216 thoughts on “2018 April PAD Challenge: Day 14

  1. Gigglette

    Ladies and Gentlemen
    She has finally arrived in all her glory!
    We thought this event almost wouldn’t happen and we’d lost the story.
    There was some delay but now she’s here.
    This event is something a lot of us love very dear,
    No more trepidation
    It can be announced loud and clear.
    Let our hearts rejoice and sing,
    Taadaahh!! It’s Spring !!!

  2. pipersfancy

    Missing Persons Report

    I’m here to file a Missing Persons Report
    in hopes of reconnecting with my past—
    with people—to understand the elements
    that helped to shape my current form.
    My college roommate—one part sister,
    two parts friend—has not been seen
    nor heard from since the days we left
    to travel separate paths. My fault, not hers.
    Life hasn’t proven easy nor conducive
    to the art of correspondence.
    It boils down to this: time—too little—
    and stress—too much. This combination
    culminates in anxious thoughts
    that bind my limbs and gag my mouth.
    Hoodwinked at times, perhaps I’ve been
    the person missing all along…

    I’m here to file a Missing Persons Report.
    Have you seen me lately?

  3. pipersfancy

    My Report on The Barn Dance

    And now the barn, no longer plain,
    transformed into a place where dreams begin,

    and now musicians take the stage,

    and now the strains of fiddle float through air
    to thrum an invitation—dance!

    And now suspendered gents approach the girls
    whose faces, flush with yearning, smile “yes!”,
    then couples, young and old alike, pair off,

    and now the music picks up speed,
    and how our feet do fly and move in rhythm!

    And now the peals of laughter rise
    to join this country ho-down symphony,

    and now the music skips a beat,
    (or so it felt, to look into your eyes.)

    And now, the dance comes to its close.

    Outside the night feels fresh against my face,
    and now he plants a kiss upon my cheek,
    and now, the evening stars escort me home.

  4. BDP


    You startle awake, hearing three, four reports from…the back
    forty? Nearby, but far enough that the shots aren’t about you.
    Maybe. Try to sleep. An oven manual might help—don’t pass
    on technical aspects such as snooze-worthy wiring. Nothing says
    the town cops will come to your aid. They’re local, know a canal
    on Mars provides a better road than to hack through the sweep
    of brush and doghair poplar. Wild acreage and that first bend
    where a spring starts to stream: direction killers. Dumb moves
    heroes never tell about. Rivulets will twist you around, forest-snarl
    entraps you, perhaps next to the intruder, for all you’ll know. Time?
    The dark’s deepest part, when night-vision creatures claim winning
    over humans, and movie-script battle cries such as “bring it on”
    in the end make you wish—if out there—you knew a hawk from
    a handsaw: crazy to step one foot under stars. Remember,
    you yourself have a rifle in the corner, can defend from here,
    your castle in the Northwoods. Stand your ground. Anybody try
    to break down that door, he’ll be calling his mommy’s name.

    —B Peters

    Endwords from Richard Hugo, “In Your Racing Dream,” Making Certain It Goes On.

  5. mayboy

    I admit

    I admit
    that I quit
    when comes
    the time.
    To get a doc.
    advice & treat.

    I submit
    to feed it,
    the personal
    To suppress
    all the stress.


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