(In)Complete Edition

She’s an incomplete

travel guide-
book, bound together
with rusted
old metal clips,
jammed in the back
of the bottom
desk drawer
where no one bothers
to look anymore.
She can tell you
what to pack &
where to get a map,
so just slip open
that compartment
where you tossed
her aside.
She’ll tell you
where to go.
Just don’t expect
a divine trip
to the other side. 

Some Say We're Already There

I'm currently swamped with work, so I'm catching up when I am able. Here is the prompt for Day Twenty-Four (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Complete (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: “Complete Best Day I Ever Had,” “Complete Guide to Writing Poems,” “Completely Wrong Way,” and “Completed Set.”

*****

Sympathy Card (Sorry for Your Loss)

Dropped me
in that slot,
ran away,
forgot you
sent me
on my way
until that guy
on the other end
received me,
read me,
displayed me
proudly
on a shelf.

It's What's inside That Counts

Yes, I know I skipped Day Twenty-One; I'm hoping to get back to it. For now, here is the prompt for Day Twenty-Two (copied from Writer's Digest):


For today’s prompt, write a correspondence poem. Maybe write a poem that would fit on a postcard or in a letter. Or write a poem about correspondence school. Or jump into newer forms of correspondence like e-mail or text messaging. Of course, not all correspondence is connected to communicating; sometimes one thing corresponds to another by being similar.



*****

Unholy

Fill your dark
space
with anything
without a face,
without a heart,
without a mind.
Wonder why
you never
found
your way.
Wonder why
you ran
out of time.

Are You Sure You Aren't Made from Stone?

Here is the prompt for Day Twenty (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a dark poem. Cave poems, poems at night, and no electricity poems–these are all appropriate for today’s prompt. Of course, dark has several other connotations as well. An underdog is often known as a dark horse, a villain may have a dark heart, and Batman is known as the Dark Knight. Heck, when I was little, I thought Darth Vader was Dark Vader.

*****

Vanity Plate

You’re a snappy

vanity plate—
one word, misspelled,
snarky, clever.

I’m an old-school
bumper sticker
from a plaid-pants
seventies
summer vacation.

But even though
I’ve come unglued,
my peeling edges
draw more attention
to my tail
than your need
for speed
that lead to excessive
visits
to the body shop.

We Both Have to Follow the Same Signs

Here is the prompt for Day Nineteen (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a license poem. There are many different licenses available to people. Fishing license, driver’s license, license to plate, license to kill, and marriage license. Poem doesn’t have to be about the license, but it could mention a license, happen at a licensing office, or well, use your poetic license.

*****

Little Time

All I wanted
was a little time
to revisit Lake
Union with you, lay out
a rowboat
for us to float
the day away,
catch dragonflies
with our cameras,
zoom in to behold
their grateful smiles.

All I wanted
was a little time
to trail your footsteps
up the hillside,
scour huckleberry
bushes for berries
teeming with vital
juices, then park
myself across
the room & sip
the darkest reds
of Cabernet with you.

All I wanted
was for you to keep
your promise,
stick around
instead of leaving me
to lament
that we had
too little time.

     All I wanted
     was a little more time
with you.

All Those Boats Are Empty Now

Here is the prompt for Day Eighteen (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Little (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: “Little Guy,” “Little Richard,” “Little Mermaid,” “Little Italy,” and “Little Words That Pack a Big Punch.” I think if you think about it for a little bit, you’ll find a big (or little) poem to write.

*****

Because

is not a reason.
Please specify why
you can’t reveal
the truth, and when
you need
a quick answer,
just say yes or no,
or give me
some time
to think about it.
But before you let
them spill
from your mouth,
remember,
your words will live on
long after
your body
is gone.

Know the Meanings of the Words You Speak

Here is the prompt for Day Seventeen (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a reason poem. If this prompt seems unreasonable, just remember all the reasons you write poetry or enjoy cooking, dancing, singing, etc. Or provide a reasoned argument for your lack of reason. Only you know your reasons.

*****

Quite the Catch

When she caught 

a tiny piece
of herself
she thought had not
survived
goodbye,
her mind mush-
roomed
from the natural high
of her enlightenment.

But like a butterfly
in a net, she couldn’t bear
to set it free,
for fear
it would fly
far far away,
enjoy
its release,
leave her alone
with her former self.

She Keeps Those Parts Locked Up

Here is the prompt for Day Sixteen (copied from Writer's Digest):

Time for our third Two for Tuesday of the month! Pick one prompt or use both…your choice!

1. Write a catch poem. Catch a cold, a ball, a fish, or someone’s eye.
2. Write a release poem. Release your anger, a ball, a fish, or someone’s head (from a head lock while wrestling, of course).

*****

I Saw It Coming

Do not embrace

the days we had.
Those days have
vanished like
an apparition
of a lost
loved one at twilight.
Those days we tread
over famous landscape
paintings, traded
bits of that
which we shared
with no one else,
those days we cannot
cash in
for change.
Those days we’ve
lost; they’ve been
replaced.

Do not embrace
the days we had.
Do not embrace
my face, it’s different
now—like cedar
bark worn &
chiseled from a wood-
pecker’s beak,
worn from twigs
snapped underfoot.

No, do not embrace
the days we had.
We’ve been gifted
with new days.
Embrace
the days you have,
embrace your new faces.
And forget me.

I've Flown Away

Here is the prompt for Day Fifteen (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a prediction poem. Make a prediction. Write about another person’s correct or incorrect prediction. Or, you know, be unpredictable.

*****

The State I’m In

My borders are on
lockdown. There’s no
getting through. Neither
passport nor cash nor beauty
(nor begging)
will break down
these walls. It’s taken
a lifetime to stack
this barrier
inside where I hide
from outside threats
of the human
race, which I’ve been
told I belong to
(though I suspect it's a lie
as I just can’t relate).
So back away,
you’re not getting my key.
Just back away & leave me
where you can’t find me.
Just back away & leave me
in my own self-made reality. 

The Wall Is Only In Front of Me

Here is the prompt for Day Fourteen (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, pick a state (or province, territory, etc.), make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. A few possibilities include New York, California, Ontario, Bavaria, and Champagne. It goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: Feel free to bend this in any direction you wish.

*****

The Growth Chart

The view from
every angle
was of my mama’s
measurement chart
etched like an inscription
on a tombstone
into the door jamb
of the living
room, not to record
my growth
through the years,
but to report
the date of each
time someone
passed through
to the other side.

She called our living
room
the dying
room. But with each
entry of elimination,
my mother said
we all grew
a little.

Her Actions Were a Grave Mistake

Here is the prompt for Day Thirteen (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a view poem. Wherever you’re at, you have a view: maybe of a river or sunset. Maybe of a cubicle or a copy machine. Even the blind have a view of darkness, nothingness, or some other -ness. And that’s just being literal, because everyone has views on sports, politics, poetry, etc

*****

The Art of the Cycle

Arrive.
Become.
Swim through
Acts One, Two, and Three
of your life.
Endure
your demise.
Vanish.
Wonder
if you ever
existed.
Arrive.

Enlightenment Can Break the Cycle

Here is the prompt for Day Twelve (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “The Art of (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: “The Art of Writing,” “The Art of Painting,” “The Art of Showing Up to Parties Fashionably Late,” and/or “The Art of Being Awesome.”

*****

Greg Dubuque

He will blindside
your mind, breathe
dragons & magic
into any dreary
life. He’s got an eye
for detail. He’ll right your
left side, then do away
with logic. He’s got fire
in his fingers, liquid
     oxygen
on his palette. You’ll side
with his right to sweet-talk
using paint & canvas.

[Visit Greg's website to view his amazing art.]

From These Tools He Creates Magic

Here is the prompt for Day Four (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, pick a painter, make him or her the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible painters include Salvador Dali, Frida Kahlo, or Pablo Picasso. Of course, you don’t have to go with the big names. You can use more obscure painters or more contemporary ones. For instance, I love the work of Judith Peck and Aaron Bir.

*****

To the Green Man Night-Light on My Bedside Table

You were supposed
to keep me company,
fight my darkness.
Instead you remind
me of that empty room
where the light has died,
never to return. 

Is It a Light, a Man, or a Mood?

Here is the prompt for Day Eleven (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a dedication poem. This is a poem dedicated to a person, an animal, or an organization. Or hey, objects work too–like a poem to a rock or paper bag. Put the dedication in the title or in a line under the title (“for Mother” or “to the heart-shaped rock between the creek and the tulips”). I dedicate today’s prompt to all of you!

*****

On the Streets

Somewhere,
Brenda pours
baby
oil
down a storm
drain to keep
cockroaches
away.

Somewhere,
Terrion straightens
his cardboard
walls,
pulls up
his newspaper
blanket
for the night.

Somewhere,
bus-riding
sightseers snap
selfies
with sidewalk
camp
tenants.

Somewhere,
a man dies,
a woman dies
on
the streets,
but no one
sees.

For Them, It's Not a Vacation

[Life is challenging these days, so this challenge is extra challenging. I'm not thrilled with my poems this time, but that is why I keep practicing.] 

Here is the prompt for Day Ten (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a lone poem. Perhaps the poem is about a solitary wanderer or person who just prefers to go it alone. Or a lone winner, lone wolf, or some other solo individual. Or alternatively, I’ll accept poems that are about loans or that are about being alone.

*****

Till Death Do Us Part

We said I do,

same as all the others.
But unlike some others,
even when we feel like
we don’t,
we do.


[Author's Note: This is just a poem and not a judgement about anyone else's choices.]

Let the Light Guide Your Way

Here is the prompt for Day Nine (copied from Writer's Digest):

1. Write a love poem. All you need is love.
2. Write an anti-love poem. Or not.

*****

Vampire Envy

Pi(e) is the luckiest

immortal—

neither stake
     (and, no, not a knife)
nor blessed Bullet
     (not even cherry
      ones disguised
      as a bloody blended shake)
nor sunlight
     (or ovens set at
      400 degrees)
nor garlic
     (that tantalizing bulb
      just adds
      to the flavor)

nothing
     (can remove appeal
      can overbake)
can
terminate

All-You-Can-Eat Pi(e) Day

Here is the prompt for Day Eight (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a lucky number poem. Some people have lucky numbers, some don’t. Wherever you fall on the lucky number spectrum, you can still write a poem about the phenomenon of lucky numbers and/or luck in general.

*****

Canine Rivalry

That old flattened

bed with stuffing erupting
from one side like a giant
puffball mushroom
never looked so cozy
until the new whipper-
snapper of a pup
wriggled her way
in,
nudged the elder pup
out.

Sometimes They Share

I don't know why this prompt tripped me up so much. But I wanted to stay in the challenge, so I'm glad I came up with something. Ugh!

Here is the prompt for Day Seven (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a jealous poem. Maybe you’re jealous. Or maybe someone else is jealous of you–or someone else. Whether envious of another or suspicious of a partner, dive deep into this emotion today.

*****

After the Storm

Needles reveal

your antics;
tracks expose
the route
to the place
you hid yourself 

Replace Bad Habits with Nature

Here is the prompt for Day Six of the April PAD Challenge (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “After (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: “After Dinner,” “After You,” “After Hours,” and/or “After I Finish Writing This Poem.”

*****

Stolen Life of the Hungry Shoplifter

He was a self-educated
stain thief, donned
a burlap replacement
for his receding toupee.
He experienced
an awakening
of the corkscrew
& became a human
butter bean.
He went silent
on holidays
when that do-it-all
     paid him
no visit.
He tiptoed
around sidewalk jackhammers
& tickled the feet
of nameless beds
every night.
But he had
     prosperous
guardian angels,
lived until
     death
by scooter,
an invisible
white paper plate
his grave marker
of choice.

If Only Chewing Asphalt Remedied Hunger

Here is the prompt for Day Five of the April PAD Challenge (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a stolen poem. And no, don’t steal anyone’s poem! But you can write about doing such a thing. Or stealing hearts, stealing time, stealing minds. Or steeling your mind (remember: I don’t care if you play on my original prompt). Steal away into a comfortable place to write and break some lines today.

*****

Mimic Octopus

I’m a punked-up
filament
of vintage pill-box hats.
I’m twisted
from a multitude
of copper curios.
I’m a pewter
dragon safeguarding
a trifling gem.
I’m awakened
by sugared ink
& horizontal limits.
I admit
one, a deliberate pledge
some call willy-nilly.
I shapeshift
to protect myself
from restless sweats & threats.
I thrive
in water—
river, ocean, tears.
Every seven years,
I shed & shift
myself.
I’m a paper family—
snipped, clipped, and loved,
handled, dropped, and yellowed.
Forgotten.

This Octopus Doesn't Live in the Sea

Here is the prompt for Day Three (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write an animal poem. The poem could be about an animal. Or it could just mention an animal in passing. Or include an animal in your title and fail to mention the animal once in your poem. Your poem, your rules.

*****

After the Funeral

Your beloved body
parts blur
my routines.
I peel your heels
off my lonely
loaf of sourdough,
curse your face
when you alarm
me that I’m going
to be late,
move your hands
ahead when I realize
we’ve lost time,
run your teeth
through my locks—
split at the ends,
rip the heart
from your chosen
bowl of flourishing greens,
follow bloodshot-red threads
to your cavernous eye
in all my attempts
to ignore & then stitch
my torn-apart heart
shut.

Time Has Become Distorted

Today's prompt, Day Two (copied from Poetic Asides at Writer's Digest):

And today is actually a special day: Two for Tuesday! Pick one prompt or use both…your choice!

1. Write a worst case poem. What’s the worst that could happen?
2. Write a best case poem. Take the worst and reverse it!

*****

Flight of Angels

My clanking heart
dreams of transforming
into an army of eagles
rather than this old
harpy, puzzled
and drugged
from too many good-
byes. Morning plans
evaporate into
mourning. Bedtime
fingerprints sprinkle
these sheets, protection
from nesting beasts
that have clipped
my wings.

You've Earned Your Wings

The prompt for Day One (copied from the Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a morning poem. Maybe you’re a morning person, maybe not. Your poem can be about a morning. Or it can be set during the morning. And those who’ve done this before probably already know that I have no problem with you interpreting this as a “mourning poem.”

*****