You Smell Like Bubble Gum - a Poem for Day Twenty-Eight of PAD

Here is the prompt for day twenty-eight of the April PAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, write a poem about a smell. Similar to Day 6’s prompt about writing a poem about a sound, today’s prompt involves thinking about the various good and bad smells that fill the world. Pick one smell (or a variety, I suppose), and write a poem.

Some Things Remind Me of That Bubble Gum

You Smell Like Bubble Gum

Sometimes
when I try to write,
I smell that bubble gum
I hid in my closet
in the house
where I grew up.
I remember feeling lucky. 
You’d given it to me
for Christmas
when I was sixteen.
I hadn’t seen you in years
when you made
that surprise visit
and handed
me a gift. I carried
that present upstairs
like a newborn, pondering
what lay swaddled
underneath the paper.
I ripped it open
and found gumballs
lined up side by side
like soldiers at rest.
I popped one
into my mouth
and was taken back
to our bowling alley
field trip
where the vending machine
shot out chewing gum
like bullets
from a machine gun.
It took me a year
to chew all that gum.
With each fruity ball I rolled
between my teeth, I wondered
when you’d roll back into my life.
I never got that lucky. 
The next time I saw you,
your casket reminded me
of that bubblegum
box. 

***

Garden of Peace - a Poem for Day Twenty-Seven of PAD

Here is the prompt for day twenty-seven of the April PAD Challenge: 

Today is Poem in Your Pocket Day; so carry around a poem in your pocket today. Or roll like me and carry a poem in your pocket every day.

For today’s prompt, use at least 3 of the following 6 words in your poem (using a word or two in your title is fine); for extra credit, try using all 6:

• pest
• crack
• ramble
• hiccup
• wince
• festoon

I Really Did Find Him in My Garden

Garden of Peace

I scarfed down my last supper
to numb restlessness
bubbling up inside. But,
I winced. My stomach ached,
and there was no food left.
Then I found Jesus
in my garden, embedded
among the scraggly grass and pests.
He was face down, given up,
mud smeared on his back.
He seemed not to mind—his face,
although cracked, full of serenity.
I rescued him (or was it
the other way around?)—
thought I heard him ramble on
something about how
he’d sent me angel
tears and a bucketful
of hope. Said to plant seeds,
feed others, build a shrine of treasures
delivered on my daily hikes.
I said nuh-uh, I’d need a box of magic
the size of the great sea,
and my energy is better
spent festooning trinkets
     and treasures
to my bedside lamp
than on making up
for events of my past.
Still, I did what he said—sowed
my garden. And creatures big
and small came around
to nibble. Those angel tears
brought relief, watered my garden,
gave me hope 
that I’ve finally removed
my former seed coat,
and germinated
a new me. 

***

My Great (R)egrets - a Poem for Day Twenty-Six of PAD

Here is the prompt for day 26 of the AprilPAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, write a regret poem. Most people regret some action they’ve taken over the years, whether it’s saying the wrong thing, making the wrong choice, or putting off something for a tomorrow that never comes. Write about your own regrets, or the regrets of others (this is a great opportunity to write a persona poem).

My (R)egrets Have Become Sea Gulls

My Great (R)egrets
     after Great Egret

Mine are not dazzling.
In fact, I’d rather not
give them a place
     in my head.
Mine have impressive
wingspans, but they never
learned
     how to fly.
While mine hunt in classic heron
fashion, the only thing
they long to catch
     is my pride.
My self-
confidence has been jabbed
by their yellow bills—
warning fliers
     for all to see.
You can’t miss ‘em—
my (r)egrets suffer
     from aggression.
You’d better not mess
with them. They’d fly
slowly and powerfully
if only they’d get the nerve
     to leave the nest.
My (r)egrets are not beautiful
     anymore.
They compete
for nesting space
     inside my mind.
They threaten and attack
those who try
     to interfere.
So leave my (r)egrets
alone. Let them be
in their natural
habitat
until nature
takes
over and they ascend
to someplace far
     above themselves.

(Facts about egrets were taken from the article at the following page: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/great_egret/lifehistory)

***

Left Behind - a Poem for Day Twenty-Five of PAD

Here is the prompt for day twenty-five of the PAD Challenge:

It’s time for that final two-for-Tuesday prompt of April. Regulars probably already know what the prompt is.

Here are the two prompts for today:

• Write a love poem. The poem could be about lovers, but also the love of family, love between friends, or even loving your job, chocolate, or music. Or…
• Write an anti-love poem. Maybe you’re a hater; that’s fine. We’ve got the anti-love poem prompt for you.

You're Transparent to Me Now

Left Behind

You speak
     to animals,
     but you don’t tell me
     what they say.
You are
     as dangerous
as dry ice.
You scrape
     away
my childlike hide,
     and go seek
     dilly-dallying
alone
     inside a yurt
     with dirt
for your bed.
     You’re a shipwreck
waiting to happen
     on the imaginary 

     riversides 

of Cathedral City.
You’ve set
     twelve thousand
goals,
     but never attained
     one.
You are
the moaning
reverberations
     of a brass gong
and
     the cry
          of a sitar
all rolled into one.
You gallop
     like the beats
     of a tongue
drum.
You said
     you would always
     be my
sleep doctor.
You held
     my hand,
     shared
the sunrise on the crest
of Mount Batur. 

Then,
you jumped
     off a cliff,
     left me alone,
said you had
better things
     to see,
     had to do it
on your own.
So now,
you sit
     on my shelf,
a thematic dictionary,
defining
the ensuing
     death
     and after-
     life
of my heart. 

***

Lose and Find Yourself - a Poem for Day Twenty-Four of PAD

Here is the prompt for day twenty-four of the April PAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, write a faith poem. For some people, faith means religion. For others, faith means trusting in science and mathematics. Still others, think George Michael’s “Faith” just as some immediately conjure up Faith Hill. Regardless of where you put your faith (or don’t), today’s poem gives you an opportunity to express yourself.

We Are All Part of Nature

Lose and Find Yourself

Have faith,
she said,
in every fresh cloud-
          burst, and in the wind’s
     knack
for consoling
     your distress
with its temper-
          a-mental
flurries.

Have faith,
she said,
when the common
nightingale sings—
observe
how its aria
     flutters
     your heart
like wings.

Have faith,
she said,
in your childhood
birch tree,
(b)looming
in your mind,
     over
     every
regret.

And when you can,
have faith,
she said,
in your reflection,
captured by sky
and sea, staring
back at your human-
          ity,
          whispering,
          you are
consoling cloudburst,
fluttering common
     nightingale song,
(b)looming birch tree—
     all separate
and all one. 

***

Last Step - a Poem for Day Twenty-Three of PAD

Here is the prompt for day twenty-three of the PAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Last (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: “Last Starfighter,” “Last Unicorn,” “Last Day of Summer,” “Last Cookie in the Cookie Jar,” and so on.

Sometimes It's More Fun to Drive

Last Step

Sometimes it’s hard

knowing you aren’t
where you want to be
just yet. You have
so many more steps

ahead that you can’t quite
make out success. Each day
is a struggle, won-
          dering when it will be
“your turn,” but still you

keep your chin up,
keep placing heel to toe
on the path before you,
sprinting against those
imaginary competitors,

hoping to reach that last
step, rather than being grateful
that you’re in the running—
forgetting the last step
means the end.

So instead of anticipating
your destination, groove
over each hurdle, send
love and peace
to your competition,

breathe out your struggle,
embrace your muscles, pumping,
growing. Give thanks, take pleasure,
remember, it’s an obstacle race—
and there is no beeline.

***

Wolf and Mouse Learn Lessons from Each Other - a Poem for Day Twenty-Two of PAD

Here is the prompt for day twenty-two of the April PAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, write a fable poem. A fable is a story that conveys a moral, usually told with animal characters.

This Mouse Got Away

Wolf and Mouse Learn Lessons from Each Other

A wolf barreling
through forest dark,
felt his shape
shifting into pine
trunk and leaves
and bark,
and river stones
along dense dirt path
when he came upon 

a skittering mouse 

whose life force
he could not trespass. 

The mouse—puffed up 

in the task
of cracking open
an acorn shell— 
refused to give him
the time of day.

Although the mouse felt 
hot breath on his neck, 
he tapped, 
he chewed,
he cursed in squeaks 
and chitters 
(the usual language
of such critters).

Just as the wolf said, You’ll never
break through, the acorn
snapped apart under
those insistent chews. 

Mouse swallowed
the nut meat 
and awarded wolf
the empty shell
to prove persistence
brings about rewards.

When wolf reached down
towards the vacant 
husk, he snuck a stroke
of the rodent’s pelt,
then spun around 
and stole
that vermin’s form.

As wolf stared 
at his brand-new 
shadow,
he gurgled up 
a little grumble.

Well, you’re right, 
I didn’t give in, 
so I finally broke through. 
And now I see how 
perseverance 
wins.

***

Origami Bowl - a Poem for Day Twenty-One of PAD

Here is the prompt for day twenty-one of the April PAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, pick an object (any object), make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles could include: “Toothbrush,” “Rake,” “Pilot G2 Premium Gel Roller Pen,” or any number of other objective titles. Have fun with it.

A Gift from My Son

Origami Bowl

Paper edges like boat sails,
red as the tips of bottle-
brush, paints my soul 
on the desk from where stories 
grow. Its contents, 
the ocean 
in roughened form—

a shard of green soda bottle, 
edges smoothed by uncounted
licks of the sea,

a droplet of orphaned turquoise,

the start of a savings for my next
summer vacation
plunked down in coins, big
and small,

a broken seashell that fits 
in the bend of my fingers,

a charm mirrored after
a swimming creature, blue
on one side, 
my dreams on the other, 
rub it 
like a worry stone. 

I thank my son 
for his creation,
holding memories 
while he grows tall,
and further away 
from where he started,
a perfect piece 
of unfolded paper, 
floating out to sea
leaving me behind 
on the hillside
with my garden.

***

Edelweiss for My Father - a Poem for Day Twenty of PAD

Here is the prompt for day twenty of the April PAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, write a task poem. The task can be some glorious duty, or it can be a seemingly small and insignificant job. Or the poem can take someone to task. It’s your task to figure it out and write it.

You Live on the Mountainside Now

Edelweiss for My Father

As a child I believed you
embodied life everlasting.
But, it wasn’t true.
Your death left me
stranded, so now my task
is to unearth you,
bask in your presence
just once more. Yet,
how can I? You survive now
only on remote mountainsides
where lovers die
to get a glimpse
of your double-star formation.
Last I saw you
was the wee hours
of early September
when I snuck away
from base camp—discovered
your blooms near the end,
disinterred you, stole away
with your white, woolly petals
that I later placed inside
my bedside table alongside angel
cards and the fragile pages
of an antique bible.
Your grin has become
2-D, but the way you lifted
one side of your lip
still thrives
in my memory,
and the smell of edelweiss
envelops me in a sadness
that is life everlasting. 

***

Hiding Out in the Open - a Poem for Day Nineteen of PAD

Here is the prompt for day nineteen of the PAD challenge:

For today’s prompt, write a memory poem. Pick a memory, any memory. It can be a significant event, but sometimes there are beautiful insignificant moments (that ironically are very significant–quite the paradox). Mine your memories to come up with something good today.

I'm Watching You through the Doorway

Hiding Out in the Open

She hoofed it up the front steps,

but I must have appeared
as a statue to her, immobile
in the burgundy chair,
staring her direction
out the picture window.
She cradled an iPad,
peered into the window
above me, then glanced
around for a sign of life,
finding none.
She rang the bell,
but I’d been instructed
not to open the door
to strangers. When
she got no answer,
she investigated the space
a little more—and then
pulled her hair clip off,
shook her tresses down
around her shoulders,
fluffed some tufts,
admired her reflection.
Then she headed
on her way
to another attempt
at human contact—
hers or someone else’s—
at the next stop.

***

Saved by Stardust - a Poem for Day Eighteen of PAD

Here is the prompt for day eighteen of the April PAD Challenge:

Here are the two prompts for today:

• Write a life poem. The poem could be about the miracle of life, the complexity of life, the game of Life, or anything else that means life for you. Or…
• Write a death poem. For most organisms, life leads to death. So this should be as full of possibility as the life poem.

It Once Hung Near the Moon

Saved by Stardust

Life has been shooting
tests my way, threatening
my mobility,
emotional stability.
This morning I arose
to a fallen star
and a deceased
bee on my living
room floor. I reached
down to rescue
his carcass, give him
a proper burial,
but he crumbled under
my touch, turned
to dust. I couldn’t help
but wonder, did he fly
upwards to the sky
with such force
that he knocked
down that luminous
ball of gas for me
to catch, save
myself? Only,
I missed it—
lost in-
         stead
in my every-
day
distractions
and
dissatisfaction.

***

No Rest at the Rest Home - a Poem for Day Seventeen of PAD

Here is the prompt for day seventeen of the April PAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, write a dance poem. The poem can be about the process of dancing or just somehow incorporate or reference dancing in the poem. There are so many styles of dance out there and even more occasions for dancing: school dances, daddy-daughter dances, wedding dances, people who dance when they are happy, people who dance when they are sad, people who dance in large groups, and those who dance alone. And, of course, there are so who just won’t dance for anything.

Dance Everywhere

No Rest at the Rest Home

For eighty-five years,

he showed his contempt
at those on dance floors,
until, confined to his couch,
he devoured
hour after hour of
So You Think
You Can Dance.

The series came to a close,
leaving him inspired
to do the pony
and the pogo,
but everyone else
reflected he was near
his own end, so he’d lost
his chance
to boogie and bop.

To prove them all wrong,
he strained, he stretched,
he swayed side to side
in his de-
              composing sofa bed.
He then took my hand,
begged me to dance,
do the hitch hike
and the hornpipe,
and then
to
perform
dances
of universal 
peace
by his side,
until he
was
dead.

***

Provisions for a Disorganized System - a Poem for Day Sixteen of PAD

Here is the prompt for day sixteen of the April PAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “(blank) System,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles could include: “Weather System,” “Solar System,” “Writing System,” “Ecological System,” or any number of other takes on systems.

Ah, Let's Just Get Takeout

Provisions for a Disorganized System

In my pantry where cans 

of green beans dated
1989 have been kicked
     into place
underneath dried lentils
and other leg-
                       umes,
and held prisoner
by some vile,
separated
salad dressing, and questionable
soda crackers
in a box with one torn corner,
you’d agree that I never
managed to become
self-organizing.
Therefore, I am not
part of the living
system.

***

Haste Makes Waste - a Poem for Day Fifteen of PAD

Here is the prompt for day fifteen of PAD:

For today’s prompt, write a “one time” poem. This poem could be about a once in a lifetime experience. Or it could be about something a person wants to try just one time (good or bad). Or take it where you will–as always.

Always Use the Trash Can

Haste Makes Waste

Although I can’t say

I recognize
most of my fellow
power walkers,
I can imagine
most of those
who make
waste in their haste
around here.

They are
someone who eats Pez candy,
someone who shops at Big 5,
someone who throws away
     homework, and
someone who doesn't mind
     contributing
to nature’s demise.

They are
someone who drinks just half
     a McCafe,
someone who keeps no receipts,
someone who uses no coupons,
and someone who buys
     extra treats
to leave for wildlife
on the street.

I declare this,
without
reservation,
just one time,
I'd rather meet
and greet
those draggletails
than feast
my eyes
on their
scattered,
tattered
goods
and food-
stuff
they
never
consumed.

***

It’s for the Birds - a Poem for Day Fourteen of PAD

Yes, I'm catching up. This is my poem for day fourteen of the April PAD Challenge, and here is the prompt:

For today’s prompt, pick a popular saying and make that the title of your poem; then, write your poem. Some possible titles might include: “Blood Is Thicker Than Water,” “You Can’t Judge a Book By Its Cover,” “More Than You Can Shake a Stick At,” and so many others. 

If Wings Could Talk

It’s for the Birds

Just once, I’d like to belong
to the world outside
my sliding door,
that place where
another reality
thrives, where
hummingbirds nest
and red-winged
blackbirds call out
to the sky, then fly away,
day, night.

Just once, I’d like to exist
among those breathing
aircraft, spread my wings,
release my beak (sharp
as needle-nosed pliers),
settle into my bed
of twigs, leaves, mud, nest-
     le to the sound of crickets,
be rocked to sleep
by my cousin,
the soaring wind.

Just once, I’d like to stretch

my wings like fingers, splash
my lining in the wake
of a cool lily pond, dip
down into a farmer’s barn,
fatten up on stolen,
scattered grain.

Just once, I’d like to fit
in with a flock of star-
lings, cause a stir,
watch passersby
drop their jaws
in delight
at my
transcend-
     ental
          pur-
               ity.

***

FamILY Recipe - a Poem for Day Thirteen of PAD

Here is the prompt for day thirteen of the April PAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, write a family poem. It could be about your family, someone else’s family, a big family, a small family. It could be about one person in the family or a group picture. Your call. Just write that poem.

I Love Them from Mouth to Feet

FamILY Recipe

In the beginning,
I was famished,
yearned for love,
but then
my little family
grew from one
to two to three
to four. Now,
the hunger’s
gratified,
satisfied,
emerged into
a smorgasbord of
I Love You.

***

I Need Someone New in My Life - a Poem for Day Twelve of PAD

Here is the prompt for day twelve of the April PAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, write a guilty poem. The poem can be written from the perspective of someone who is (or feels) guilty, or it can be about someone (or something) else that’s guilty. But guilty of what? Cheating on a test? Or a spouse? Or a diet? Only you know, and only your poem can reveal the truth.

I'm Still Here

I Need Someone New in My Life

I’m off to build a new life story.

Scrubbed twenty years
of tears imbedded
in my wall-to-wall carpet.
     Then ripped it out.

Torched forty-five years
of journal entries
in a backyard bonfire.
     Then grabbed an armful
     of binders at the Dollar Tree
     to pen forty-five years
     of new memories.

Dyed my hair.
     Chopped it off.

Crashed my car.
     Bought a scooter.

Donated my faded
clothes
to the county dump.
     Tattooed wings
    on my shoulder blades.

But later I caught myself
in that same old mirror and
though I looked distraught—
     not going to feel guilty—
I still saw me.

***

Mysterious Disappearance - a Poem for Day Eleven of the PAD Challenge

Yeah, I should have gone with the other prompt. I tried to write a sonnet. I've been tweaking and tweaking . . . and I'm tired. 

So even though it needs more tweaking, I'm sleeping before my body is tweaking. 

Here are the prompts for day eleven of the April PAD Challenge:

• Write a sonnet. (Click here if you need a refresher on sonnets.) I know some folks will say a writing a form is not a prompt, but I often use forms to prompt me into poems. And I know that some folks will say they hate traditional forms. Soooo, the other prompt is to…
• Write an anti-form poem. Write about your dislike of poetic forms. Let it all out.

He's Somewhere out There

Mysterious Disappearance

His face turned up on the six o’clock news,

his stolen yacht retrieved from Santa Cruz.

The only signs a struggle had ensued,

his dull pocket knife and torn bloodied shoes.

I’d overheard him tell his senile folks,

he’d rather live without me by his side.

I begged him to stay, yet he vowed to go—

crushed my frail heart, said I wasn’t his bride.

But then he went missing and I cried out

my eyes—I was convinced he'd surely died.

Though he’d wounded me, I still loved the lout.

I never wanted to see him graveside.

Now I wonder—was it all just a ruse

to dump me because he lacked an excuse?

***

Un(t)raveled - a Poem for Day Ten of PAD

Here is the prompt for day ten of the April PAD Challenge:

For today’s prompt, write a travel poem. Your poem can be about the process of traveling, planning to travel, vicariously traveling through television programs, or however else you’d like to take this prompt.

I Wear Color Now

Un(t)raveled

I store you in a canvas shopping bag
on my bedroom floor. You, cut
and scattered—I tried to piece you
back together—stitch you,
fold you, situate you gently
inside my travel case,
but your odds
and ends
I could not
prefabricate.

You’re a pattern
with lost pieces,
a garment
that’s become
quite a bore.
So, I leave you there
on my bedroom floor
to remember
who I don’t want
to wear anymore.

***

So, Break the Four-Stroke Cycle - a Poem for Day Nine of PAD

Yes, I'm posting a day late. (Busy weekend!) 

Here is the prompt for day nine of PAD:

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “So (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 could include: “So Cool,” “So Stupid,” “So Not What I Would’ve Done,” “So Sweet,” or so many other possibilities.

So, Whatever Gets You down the Road

So, Break the Four-Stroke Cycle

So, you say you can’t speak
so good about
so many things but automobiles because
so many subjects escape you. You suck and have
so little education, you say, and you
so want to blame your clunker of a life upon
so many others—when you know that
so many times you could have squeezed
so many opportunities, popped your four-stroke engine
so far-off from where it started.

So, I tell you to look outside yourself,
so be it, out of the windows of your gas-guzzling heap of a life, not
so far you forget where you came from, just
so far that you operate more than for
sowing disrepair. Just keep in mind not to blow it and that
so
     me
          times, one of the alternatives—stop-start systems—are not
so efficient. It’s better to keep chugging along with the old tried and true.


***

The Panic of Non-Action - a Poem for Day Eight of PAD

It’s been a busy day and here I am, trying not to panic that I have only a little over an hour to write my poem. Ah, well, fun with the family was worth it!

Here is the prompt for day eight:

For today’s prompt, write a panic poem. There are any number of things a person can panic about, including severe weather, military invasions, or what to wear to an event. And while some may be more life or death than others, that feeling of panic is just as real for a person who has to get up and speak in front of a crowd of smiling strangers as it is for a person hiding in the basement of their house as a tornado approaches.

If You Look Carefully, You Can See Him Smile

The Panic of Non-Action

Perhaps you’ll plant
something lovely
in your life today
instead of going about
useless routines
like tracing Orion’s Belt
in those dot-to-dot
age spots
on the back of your hand.

Perhaps instead of wondering
what life had been like
if you’d been born
someone else,
you’ll trundle out your door,
say hello to a stranger,
pluck a leaf from desert
scrub oak, be amazed
how anything
can stay alive in Death
Valley.

Perhaps instead of scratching out
each day you have left,
you’ll spend tomorrow
in awe, marveling
at things like the forked tail
and the rapid wing
beats of Lucifer’s
Hummingbird, decide
if this is your end,
it isn’t so bad.

Still, perhaps you’ll stay grafted
to your seat, rock your life
using only those two
dog-eared feet, panic
at all the things
you didn’t have the nerve
to get up and do. 

***