2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 24

For today’s prompt, we’re faced with the final Two-for-Tuesday prompt of the month, which means we’re faced with these two options:

  1. Write a love poem.
  2. Write an anti-love poem.

Here’s my attempt:


In the morning, when we’re stumbling
like zombies through taking showers
or making lunches, I sometimes
vent about how tired I’m feeling,

even though we both know why our
young children slept more than us, but
our lack of sleep is always worth
understanding how we’re feeling.


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359 thoughts on “2012 April PAD Challenge: Day 24

  1. taylor graham


    There she sits at the computer,
    chin on hands, mouthing words scrolled
    across the monitor – the lines of some
    poet who’s been dead these hundreds of years.
    A love poem? “The grave,” she reads,
    “’s a fine and private place.” What’s to brood
    about love? This fine May morning,
    birds in pairs are twitchering up
    a private spring in the oak boughs. Love!
    Lilac and lavender let loose
    their scent on currents of air, even the rock-
    rose is offering handouts
    of crimson flowers. What’s to ponder
    a long-ago dead line? Turn off
    the screen. What says this morning’s
    world about love?
    Just take a walk outside.

  2. foodpoet

    Love in Waiting

    In the quick sand of today
    I have no time
    To listen to spun lies

    You remain a ghost
    Just out of reach
    In the quicksand of today

    Work family all come before
    The spark of love until
    I have not time

    Promises of waiting
    Bitter taste
    Spun lies

  3. Marian O'Brien Paul

    Only Now that I Am Old

    Long, long years ago when we were young
    we fell in love and as lovers often do we wed
    thinking we would spend our lives together
    certain we’d have no obstacle we could not
    overcome. Even in our early arguments I said
    how angry I was but still was glad I’d married
    you. I did not suspect a day would come when
    I would regret having married you, would not
    understand why you lost your way in alcohol
    and debt until my only recourse was to leave
    you behind, take our children and strike out
    on my own, but that dreadful day did come.

    Only now that you‘ve been dead for years and
    I am old am I able to look back, the angry fire
    turned to ashes now, to see how I also wronged
    you. Only now am I able to realize how frail
    we humans are, how fragile are our lives. Only
    now is my heart wise enough to forgive you
    and to wish I could ask forgiveness from you.

  4. Jacqueline Hallenbeck

    For my husband…

    The lid to my pot

    Don’t ask me why. I just knew
    you were the lid to my pot.
    We stuck together, like glue.
    Don’t ask me why. I just knew
    when I first laid eyes on you
    and caught a glimpse of your butt.
    Don’t ask me why. I just knew
    you were the lid to my pot.

    (c) JH 4/29/12

    True Story! 😉

  5. AC Leming

    Startide Rising

    pulls forth from our DNA
    genetic memories of Earth’s full moon,
    the fools come out for love.


    This way station you pass through is what I call home.
    You can’t start the shit you want to here, not without
    repercussions. An irate husband’s laser pressed
    into your gut, finger tight on the trigger. Yeah, we can flirt
    anonymously, one text at a time. Don’t pull me down
    to where I can’t stand any man on this way station
    circling that broken planet and too broke to escape
    the mess you can step onto a ship and leave behind.

  6. Jaywig

    Day 24 – love

    It begins with Sunday lunch
    and the platter of Greek Orthodox
    pastries and chocolate.

    Next evening on the couch
    watching television together.
    Her feet on my thighs.

    More actively, we exercise
    with other older women
    laughing at clumsiness.

    Moments of love, affinity
    and wellbeing: with various
    members of my family.

  7. randalljweiss


    Love is an act
    of memory.
    I remember walking
    through the art-lined halls of the Philbrook
    on our first date, the feel of my oar piercing
    Table Rock Lake as I paddled our canoe to
    the pebbled coast where I knelt for your hand,
    how our eyes met the instant before the minister
    urged our altar kiss, how your lips still feel
    so soft as they envelope mine.


  8. ceeess

    I suppose this is an anti-love poem. Or anti a particular love perhaps.

    Elegy for the Fragments

    Today I mourn for the years
    spent on a love one-sided
    a love all give, and give again
    for eyes closed too long against
    reality everyone else could see.

    I mourn for the fragments
    worn away from the self, worn
    down to chafe and inflammation
    worn to irritation under skin
    worn to grit under the tongue.

    Today I give thanks for sight
    for insight into the other of me
    she who repeats somewhere
    below conscious thought
    the need for letting go.

    Today there is the lightness
    of air, the upward flight of birds
    one feather falling, a freedom
    in the spirit, this window
    this new and opening door.

    Carol A. Stephen
    April 24, 2012

  9. cam45237

    We found a deer stand in the deep woods
    And I considered the hunter’s hunger
    Alert after hours
    Stretched long on six planks
    Nailed to a cross of branches
    Muscles stiff, nerves tight as twists of wire, eyes narrow
    Feather finger tightening
    Tracking the tell-tale dapple of sunlight
    On motion

    I’ve shot a gun
    And felt the burst
    Fill heart and head
    As the marked core of the skeet explodes.
    Fractions in the air
    Deteriorate down
    To the earth from whence they came.

    I know there is a pride and a joy
    In a clean shot well-taken.
    For me , a clay pigeon
    For him the beating heart of a deer


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