2018 April PAD Challenge: Day 16

For today’s prompt, write a favorite poem. Maybe that sounds a bit silly, but what I mean is to write a poem about something that’s your favorite. A favorite teacher. Favorite movie. Favorite ice cream flavor. I don’t know, because I have my own list of favorites. Only you can do you…and your favorites. Who knows? Maybe this will end up being your favorite prompt this month.


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 Favorite Poem:

“love is my favorite”

love is my favorite, my favorite is love
whether i’m falling into the bliss of it
or falling out into the void of losing it

love is my favorite, my favorite is love
because i feel more alive or alone or
because i feel


Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). His favorite really is love.

Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.


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286 thoughts on “2018 April PAD Challenge: Day 16

  1. mlibra


    I can’t write my own
    I can’t express myself sometimes
    It helps me figure it out
    It helps calm
    It makes me feel better
    It expresses for me
    It makes me dance
    It makes me happy

  2. agolly

    Favorite Sport

    My favorite sport is
    More physical than
    Tougher than
    More complex than
    More ice than
    More components than
    Figure Skating.
    Compared to all of
    These sports,
    Is the best.

  3. BDP

    “Indigo Luscious”

    Remember the declaration that eggs were bad for us? A plot
    to clog our arteries—damn chickens. Then incredible, overnight,
    edible: “Eat whites and yokes (both) any time of the day.”

    Superfood, a designation of the blueberry in recent years,
    which, I’d like to add, should include its color. I’ve done
    felonies to procure the fruit. (I glance in the mirror,

    look innocent of thievery, but my neighbor’s not over it—
    he’s fenced in his bushes.) Unlike, say, beet-red, no inking
    rubs off on fingers and tongue. This berry has haruspicated

    the rise of sovereigns. I made that up. Trying to load the slate
    in case the crop contracts egg-bad/no-good (full circle,
    at least) syndrome—don’t mess with an haruspex of royalty! Stillness:

    how people react popping a marble-sized sweet orb, their faces
    saintly. If I had a genie for one thing impossible in practice,
    I’d own all the world’s blueberry (there must be many!) lithographs.

    —B Peters

    Endwords from Seamus Heaney, “The Stone Grinder,” The Haw Lantern

  4. Michelle Hed

    I have Just One

    He is my favorite,
    my very own.
    He makes me laugh
    and makes me mad
    but I wouldn’t trade him in.

    He’s rather smart
    and seldom dim
    but everyone has their moments.

    He’s a bit of a romantic
    and kind to a fault
    but surely he has a flaw.

    But I love him
    flaws and pros
    and everything in between.
    He if my favorite,
    my very own…husband.

  5. Austin Hill

    My Favs

    Who’s my favorite?
    You know it’s you!
    For no one else can do your do.

    Who’s my favorite?
    You know it’s you!
    I will not pick between you two.

    Who’s my favorite?
    You know it’s you!
    Seeing the best in everything is what you do.

    Who’s my favorite?
    You know it’s you!
    Dancing to a diff’rent beat is what you do.

    Who’s my favorite?
    You know it’s you!
    For no one else can be you two.

    © April 2018 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

  6. pipersfancy

    Contemplation on My Favourite Part of the Day

    When the bustle of the busy day subsides
    and the house falls quiet around me,
    I slip into my bed and pull the comfort
    of a still and silky night over myself.

    I lie there, letting sleep elude me for a while,
    luxuriating within the spaciousness of the bed,
    feeling the coolness of cotton sheets against my skin.
    A pillow cradles my head as a mother does
    a newborn.

    I think
    how fortunate it is to be alive,

    and I am blissfully content in this moment,
    in this body,
    in this bed,
    in this place in my life,

    until gratitude rocks me to sleep.

  7. azkbc

    What is my Favorite?

    I could write about
    which is my favorite food
    to eat late at night.
    Or red wine
    which is my favorite beverage
    to have with my chocolate.

    I could write about
    books of poetry, biographies,
    mysteries and other fiction.
    All my favorite ways
    to spend a few evening hours
    eating chocolate and drinking red wine.

  8. Glory

    Old Friend

    I didn’t take to her at first
    why, I wasn’t sure,
    just something about her
    had me feeling . . . insecure

    How wrong can one person
    be? As time passed by
    she was, as it turned out
    a very good friend to me

    And now, although we’re miles
    apart, I find her often
    within my heart, a lasting
    friendship shared,

    A lesson learned.

  9. bethwk

    I see it in your eyes when you ask the question
    (the loathing, the defiant refusal to accept)
    “Why do we have to study poetry?”
    And in this moment I do not know how,
    after all these years of this work,
    to hand you this gift
    that I love so deeply,
    which you so staunchly refuse.

    It’s about your own power,
    I want to tell you,
    about your power to say
    exactly what you want to say,
    to take that roiling mass of uncertainty
    that slides out from behind the tough mask
    you put on for me,
    to take all that and give it words,
    to sort it, to speak your truth,
    to know the beauty and the strength
    of your own words, to find your way
    into yourself.

    Now. Close your eyes and open your hands.


  10. Tracy Davidson

    A few of my favourite things…

    when Maximus says
    he will have his vengeance in
    this life or the next

    when Scout’s life is saved
    by Boo Radley coming out
    of isolation

    where the Rhapsody
    is anywhere the wind blows
    loud, Bohemian

    rows of ring donuts
    in a bakery window
    tempting my tastebuds

  11. carolecole

    Favorite Child

    “Who do you think you are?
    Better than everyone else?
    Don’t be a smarty pants, no one
    likes a showoff.”

    A handful to raise, I was all of the above,
    no favorite child, the least of five. I spent
    my life testing the wilderness around me
    shadowing the tame suburban streets,
    the wildness in my heart choking me
    like a bone in the throat. This is who I think
    I am: a child of god, like you, and one
    wearing your distinctive face.

  12. MargoL


    My bike
    A favourite
    Companion. Go faster
    While biking below big bridges

    Breathe in
    Breathe out. As I
    Reflect on my thoughts and
    Wander into my own still world

  13. Melanie

    the good book insists
    that God doesn’t have favourites
    I’m not sure it’s true
    I look at your life
    and see no scars that blemish
    you walk through meadows

  14. mayboy


    She is my favorite among them all;
    she is there when I need comfort
    or touching soul; she is the herb for
    the aching blurb, she circles with
    her fluffy tail, for a treat she gives
    a kiss, sitting on my knees, Inka
    feline named by pride tribe from
    the Andes heights and she makes
    a day every time she plays her game.

  15. JanetRuth

    Because of a late laundry night I reveled in delight just to let the pen write…

    Part One of Favorite Things…

    Fresh cup ‘o coffee
    A rose glazed with dewdrops
    Green haze of May days
    after spring has sprung
    laughter of little ones
    cheese before supper
    toffee bits melting
    sweet, slow on my tongue

    babies to rock-a-bye
    books to belong to
    backwood meander
    just talking to trees
    scrabble and apples
    and company-set tables
    a long line of laundry
    flapping in the breeze

    poems and poetry
    with words or pictures
    moody blue back-drop
    thunder far away
    bird-song and brook-song
    and sea-song and love song
    wanderlust dusting
    an open highway

    summer-sand beaches
    and winter-land wonder
    spring-flavored sunbeams
    a to-do list
    Getting up early to
    hear the sun stirring
    kicking back covers
    of starlight and mist

    making a memory
    fragrant with flowers
    planning a picnic
    for today at two
    fishing and fireworks
    wish on a first star
    fulfilled by the longing
    of being with you

    dancing at daybreak
    with destiny’s mystery
    meeting at midnight with
    future and past
    pausing on pasture-lands
    stippled with steeples
    where shadow-builders
    Lower twilight’s mast

    taming a tempest
    of whispers with inkdrops
    framing heart-pieces
    in rhythm and rhyme
    where there is always
    too much to be written
    and there is always
    never enough time

    love that is painful
    because it is pleasure
    love that is pleasure
    because it is pain
    Finding the treasure
    in a moment’s measure
    laughing like I was
    carefree once again

    Listening to reason
    while lying at leisure
    beneath the lattice
    of leaf overhead
    hearing the tiptoe
    of a poem’s hello
    long after it is time
    to go to bed



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