Love and Anti-Love (Day 8 of PAD)

Flighty

Owl always
love you
no matter
whose nest
you choose.

Doggy Style

Our four paws
always in the way.
I sit.
You stay.

The Day 8 prompt is a two-for-tuesday:

• Write a love poem and/or...
• Write an anti-love poem.

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He’s Past Tense (A Poem for Day 7 of PAD)

After his death, dandelions spread
through the yard like wildfire.
Inside his garden shed,
jugs of industrial-grade vinegar
lined the walls
like soldiers waiting to deploy.
It had become his ritual
after that morning pour over
of double dark decaf—drink up
then slay those weeds birthing
their yellow buds against his wishes.
They didn't belong, he said,
in his garden. They were
unwelcome, unwanted,
had transplanted to his yard
without his permission.
It was his duty to annihilate them
before they spread
their seeds
throughout the neighborhood.
But he became careless,
dousing them
without first donning
his protective gear.
She found him,
arms & legs shooting up
like tender blossoms
reaching for the sky,
his body wedged
between his concrete-block
retaining wall
& the neighbor’s cedar fence,
his red plaid shirt
soaked from the contents
of his vinegar jug.
After his death, dandelions spread
through the yard like wildfire.

The Day 7 prompt is to write a tense poem. 

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The Modern Magi (Day 9 of PAD)

      after “We Real Cool” by Gwendolyn Brooks

[Courtship]

He’s the tops. He
respects walks. He

sows seeds. He
honors creeds. He

spellbinds mobs. He
triumphs hobnobs.

     Until . . .

[Just Married]

He swift reveals. He
slays feels. He

carves cloth. He
stirs froth. He

summons tears. He
conjures fears. We

breathe dread. Innocents
lay dead.

Yes, I missed a couple of days. I've been swamped with work. But I'll get back to those missed days (seven and eight0 eventually. 

Day 9's prompt is to write an ekphrastic poem. Mine is after Gwendolyn Brooks's "We Real Cool."

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Insomnia (Day 6 of PAD)

Router hums
rain flushes
branch scratches
light flashes
breath heaves
cat squirts (diarrhea)
sister squeals
dream of dreams
body pitches
sun rises
eyelids shutter

The day 6 prompt is to write a reaction poem. As a chronic insomniac, I'm familiar with this scene. 

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After Today (A Poem for Day 5 of PAD)

Daily plain
conversation
about air-
planes
lands downstairs.
In the backyard
amidst uninhabited islands
of dirt, flowers, weeds,
a saw whirs,
workers chew
ice cubes,
try not to think about
what could happen
when they leave.

Written for Day 5 of the April PAD Challenge. 

If you like YA, check out If I Could Be Like Jennifer Taylor by Barbara Ehrentreu. 

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A Spotless Record (A Poem for Day 4 of PAD)

You: Made of Snickers
wrappers, nose hair
trimmings, string cheese
shreds, coffee grounds
brimming.

Me: Made of a sucking
hose, swiping rags,
an innocent spray bottle
harboring ingredients
that make others gag.

Day 4 of PAD: Write an unexpected mess poem. 

Need a good book? Check out Carol Early Cooney's blog for book recommendations. 

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Returning Home (A Poem for Day 3 of PAD)

 I find

the voice I hid

under Mother’s afghan.

Written for the April PAD Challenge Day 3. Write a short poem. 

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From Where I'm Sitting (Day 2 of PAD 2025)

I've been writing web content for my day job and practicing short story writing but I haven’t written much poetry in a while. For me, the 2025 April PAD Challenge is about practice, and I'm a bit rusty.

Here is my poem for Day 2:

 

From Where I’m Sitting

Sixteen eyes look away

with nothing

to say.

  

Winds rock & roll

the old bones

of a flowering cherry tree—

an adult before we were born.

Rooms go dark as night

& sixteen eyes

pierce the veil

with nothing to say.

 

Someone somewhere

is locked in a state

of questioning whether

everything he has

he wants.

 

Two states away, young ones

fight abandonment—

punching through days

of self-imposed imprisonments

and directing thrill seekers where to go.

 

The world we once knew

is brand new, strangers shout

rather than smile

& forget that old saying—

when you point a finger

four fingers point back at you.

 

Sun shines through

a window at the end

of a long artificially lit hallway

few want to march down.

 

The sick stay home,

afraid of waiting

rooms where uncertainty

festers.

 

Five years past

we entered a foreign world

where microorganisms,

invisible to the naked eye,

held the power to take down

the world.

 

I remind myself—

little random acts still matter

as long as they reek

of kindness.

 

Sixteen eyes look away

with nothing

to say.

You can also fllow along with one of my favorite poets on her blog 

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Feeding Needs (A Poem for Day 1 of the April PAD Challenge)

We eat moldy bread—

free penicillin,

we say.

Never mind allergic

reactions from the real thing—

it's better than tossing it away,

better, we say

than having nothing at all,

better, we say, yes better.

We forage

in each other’s eyes

for that day—

the better one (we recall all those days).

We say, nothing is better than eating

nothing

with you

if there's nothing
to eat

we eat moldy bread.

Breaking Moldy Bread Can't Break Us

Happy poetry month!

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