What’s in the Garden?

He asked to be scattered
among her forget-me-nots—
now she finger-rakes
dust & dirt in hopes
of a rebloom—

For today's prompt, take the phrase "What (blank)," replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: "What Are You Doing Here," "What a Great Time," "Whatever You Say," and/or "What Kind of Poem Are You Going to Write?"

So make a decision: Is your "what" poem leading to a question or a statement (or maybe both?).

* * * 

At the Park

Things that fall
away—g-
               litter
sw-       -gs
      -in-
friend-
          ships—

For today's prompt, write poem using at least three of the following six words:

1. Bow
2. Lean
3. Park
4. Saw
5. Tear
6. Wound

For extra credit, use all six words.

Also, feel free to try actually writing a six-word poem if you want (no need to use any of the above words if you go this route, though you could go nuclear and write six six-word poems, each using one of the above words. Any takers?).

* * *

A Quickie

Eyes met / sparkled & gleamed

swept
           us 

                into
                      next meet

(but you
             don’t
                      need—
                               those deets)

For today's prompt, we have our third two-for-Tuesday prompt, which means you get two prompts, and they are: Write a love poem. Write an anti-love poem.

* * *

Snakey Wakens

It’s that time of year
when sidewalks   slither to life,

They sneak through
their surroundings   make silent escapes,
stand their ground   practice
ambush predation   leave
joggers shaken
at the ankles   constrict airways
of the innocent.

It’s that time of year
when sidewalks   slither to life,

Watch your step.

For today's prompt, write a nerve poem. Some folks are nervous; others have some nerve; still others seem to get on everyone's nerves. We all have a nervous system, and well, my nerves aren't wracked worrying that everyone will figure some way to poem out of this prompt.

* * * 

The Silence of Grief

Broken only by the repetitive
song of a lone robin
reminding me—
life goes on.

For today's prompt, take the phrase "The (blank) of a (blank)," replace the blanks with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: "The Beginning of a Story," "The Wrong Side of a Situation," "The Apple of an Eye," and/or "The Latest Excuses of a Continuing Problem."

* * * 

Misunderstood

She said she missed me, 
so I apologized. Teared-up my eyes
until she came outside, bow &
arrow in hand, took aim, made
me realize—
I’m no good at reading
people.

For today's prompt, write a forgive poem. The poem could be about forgiveness in general, or it could focus on a specific instance of forgiveness or grace. There are times when we are called upon to forgive others, and times when we ask others to forgive us. And sometimes that includes forgiving ourselves. Be forgiving as you poem today.

* * * 

Childhood Bedtime

something dripping
paper ripping
toilet flushing
teeth brushing
clock tick ticking
foot tickling
kiss on the cheek
school starts next week—
so giddy they can’t sleep
     oh to be young
                —again. 

For today's prompt, write a sound poem. On day six, we wrote poems that smelled; today, let's write poems that play off sound. This could be a poem filled with rhymes or alliteration, but it could also be about listening to sounds that are being made.

* * * 

Count, Measure, Label

Today I wore
no socks
to the mailbox 
when Pacific Northwest
earth 
squished between 
my toes.

Your letter is long
     overdue.
Rumor has it
you sent it last week
in 1983
when the average
monthly rent was $335
& there were
     no tents
on the sidewalk.

I've traveled the world
in your pocket, the stick
     long lost
from that worn-out
postage stamp (at a measly
     cost
of twenty cents).
 
Something tells me you lied
or lost it.
Me—easily 
forgotten like those
who’ve given up. 

Yet me?
I’ve not forgotten
     you—
I just can’t help
but focus
     now
on skyrocketing rent
that’s brought defeat,
made tents
the only option
     for some,
sleep,
a mailbox
& a stamp
all foolish treats.

For today's prompt, write a number poem. You can include a number in the title of the poem, or drop a number somewhere in the middle or end of the poem. Count sheep, poem by numbers, or share 10 ways to write a poem. There are any number of ways to come at this one.

* * * 

Double Feature

I’m your low-budget
flick. You, there,
sitting in your cushion-
covered metal chair,
sucking on ice cubes
& corn kernels,
anticipating my end.
You, there, didn’t realize
I’ll live forever,
even when I’m dead.

For today's prompt, write a B-movie poem. Our family has a tradition of watching a B-movie every Saturday night. Some of them are kind of funny, some of them are so bad they're good, and some of them are just torture (until I inevitably fall asleep from boredom). And some of them have excellent titles like The Tingler, Kingdom of the Spiders, Teenagers From Outer Space, and The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-up Zombies.

For the purposes of this prompt, you could write a poem inspired by an actual B-movie, or you could imagine your own.

* * * 

Cliff’s Edge

On a twelve-hundred mile trek
     twice a year, 
my past nipping at my rear—

I’ve lost the ability
to know what’s below
the drop-               
               off

time’s running out
the bluff taller than I recall

Take a chance /
Don’t be a fool /
                L e a p . . .

For today's prompt, write a foolish poem. The poem could be about a fool, about being fooled, about fooling someone, or whatever other foolish direction you wish to take it. But don't fool with this prompt for too long; we'll have another one ready to roll tomorrow.

* * * 

Space Girl

     In memoriam

We wafted on life

preservers in the middle
of Lake Washington
when the moon
sat high, teetering
on the edge of
a shelf ready to fall
into itself in the Cimmerian
sky. I traced the stars
of each of the Dippers,
remembering how we scooped
frozen dreams, just barely
two steps out of our teens.

     I still live
up to that handle
given me by my old dear friend
whose directional projections
now shine down from the origin
of that nickname
he loved to expound.
Out of reach, he now
safeguards me from above,
slightly less than 93
million miles away.

We Are Just Spaces Apart

For today’s prompt, write a space poem. Your poem could be about outer space or inner space. It could opine on the social spacing much of the world is currently doing. Or poets can write an ode to having the space to write or read or whatever. Honestly, I’ll be disappointed if there isn’t a Star Wars or Star Trek inspired poem today. Now, I’ll back off and give everyone plenty of space to write their poems today.

* * * 

Gloves Required

I want to go back

to the old world
when broken
skin meant wash
and dry, slather on
antibiotic cream,
slap on a Band-Aid,
and move on
with my day.

Don’t want this 

new world

where broken skin 

denotes the way 

my life 

gave in to one 

last breath.

May We All Find Protection

For today’s prompt, write a new world poem. There are new worlds and there are new worlds. You could write a poem about discovery of an actual planet. Or maybe your new world is actually a state of mind—or a series of books! In a way, I consider each new challenge a bit of a new world. Let’s explore this one together.


* * * 

Not the Teacher's Pet (A Poem for Day Nineteen of PAD)

Here is the prompt copied from Poetic Asides for day nineteen: 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.

They Said It Was Me

Not the Teacher's Pet

Every time I sit
down to remember,
unruly schoolchildren
sneak in, wipe memories
from the blackboard,
place tacks upon teacher’s
seat, call her distasteful
names, tell her
it was all me, then snicker
when she makes me stay after
to atone
for their sins.


*****

Procrastination Temptation (A Poem for Day Eighteen of PAD)

Here is the prompt  copied from Poetic Asides for day eighteen: For today’s prompt, write a temptation poem. Nearly everyone is tempted by something: fame, glory, money, chocolate. Today is the perfect day to give in to the temptation to write about your (or “a friend’s”) temptation. Also, I totally understand the temptation to write about The Temptations today.

I'll Write It Tomorrow

Procrastination Temptation

Take two
lines, call
myself
a poet
in the morning,
when hope
arises,
vacates
the block,
breaks
out
of my head,
breaks
in
my pen.

*****

The Husband That Never Was (A Poem for Day Seventeen of PAD)

Here is the prompt (for day seventeen) copied from Poetic Asides: For experienced April PAD Challengers, today’s prompt will seem familiar. In fact, I kind of tipped my hand yesterday with my example poem of what today’s Two-for-Tuesday prompt would be.

For today’s Two-for-Tuesday prompt:

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

There's No Record of You and Me

The Husband That Never Was

We said “I do” a thousand times
under the scraggly
limbs of my neighbor’s
apple tree where I stepped
on a rusty nail the summer
we eloped before
we ever met.
You climbed the
blue fir tree up to the electrical
wires, then looked
down on me, smiled with only one side
of your mouth the way you do now
from across the way.
For our honeymoon, we ransacked
your mother’s bedroom, spread out
on the floor among some five hundred
LPs—
"Jive Talking”
our wedding march. 


*****

Oxymoron (A Poem for Day Sixteen of PAD)

Here is the prompt (for day sixteen) copied from Poetic Asides: 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.

Sometimes My Favorite Place is the Beach

Oxymoron

My favorite saying
is that I have
no favorites. I love
everything and
everyone
just the same . . .
except
any foods
containing
meat and
spring time
overrun
by summertime
heat, and then
there’s those workers
who are underpaid
for the color
of their skin
or because
of their age.
I suppose
there’s another
thing, too. Scammers
who prey on
the emotions
of others
or take advantage
of lonely
elderly widows.
Karma is karma,
and whatever
they do
will come
right back
to them
     unless
my
irritation
butts in. Then karma’s
arrows will shoot
back to me to interfere
with my philosophy
to not take favorites
but instead
to favor
everyone
for their individuality
     and 
respect their 
     position
on their 
     own life’s 
rungs. 


*****

I Am a Mermaid (A Poem for Day Fifteen of PAD)

Here is the prompt (for day fifteen) copied from Poetic Asides: For today’s prompt, write a metaphor poem. That is, write a poem built around a metaphor. Remember: Metaphors actually take on another object (like “I am a Tree” or “I am a Rock“). This is not to be confused with similes, which are like metaphors (for instance, “I am like a tree” or “I am like a rock”), but not quite. Dig? If so, then you are a shovel or spade or bulldozer. Now poem the heck out of metaphors today.

Hold Me in Your Heart

I Am a Mermaid

But I don’t live
in the sea.
I flower from May
to September
when I add
a sweet touch
of color
to your garden.
Those who've
cultivated me
call me
a forget-me-not.
I’m easy to grow,
reliable, too—
you can count on me
to bloom and add cheer
to your life
when you’re feeling blue.

*****

Funeral Home (A Poem for Day Fourteen of PAD)

It's late. I'm tired. A short poem was in order. 

Here is the prompt (from day fourteen) copied from Poetic Asides: For today’s prompt, write a report poem. I know, I know: Writing a report sounds about as far away from poetry as flying is to a penguin, but many poems report on a moment or an instance or a scene. In your poem (or poems) today, report on something big and important or small and inconsequential (or small and important–or, well, you get the idea).

Goodbye Never Gets Easier

Funeral Home

Same dead body,
same casket,
same urn,
same last respects,
same tears,
different family.

*****

[Please note that all prompts have been copied from the Writer's Digest Poetic Asides website.]

Booklice (A Poem for Day Thirteen of PAD)

I'm hurrying to catch up. I've cut this copied prompt down a bit: For today’s prompt (day thirteen), pick an insect (any insect), make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Praying Mantis,” “Ants,” and “Grasshoppers.” 

I Wonder if They Would Chew Gum Instead

Booklice 

Wingless members of the family
Trogiidae, commonly found
in human dwellings,
these tiny authors
feed on scripts, spit
them out for tenants to find.
The Psocoptera evolved
from ancient scribes
but have lost all recollection
of manuscript keeping.
Poor eyesight and pen-
less, they communicate
using sound instead,
tap with the end
of their abdomens, using Morse
code in a faint ticking noise
and chewing to communicate
stories like that of
Violet Beauregarde.

After Amateur Etymologists’ Society 

*****

[Please note that all prompts have been copied from the Writer's Digest Poetic Asides website.]

Freedom (A Poem for Day Twelve of PAD)

For today’s prompt (day twelve), write a lament poem. Maybe you lament a relationship or a missed opportunity. Or maybe it’s that doughnut (maybe speaking from personal experience). Whatever it is, today is the day to let it all out–in poem form, of course.

Your Money or Your Life

Freedom

The citizens lamented
something had gone
terribly wrong but couldn’t
quite put their finger on it.

Darren said the local
discount stores had gone
out of business,
and the water commission
had made new provisions
of sprinkling only on
Tuesdays, three to five.

Johnny added that records
showed little Theresa’s
mother failed to pay,
had her daughter’s
hot lunch taken away.
 
Beth repeated evening news—
commuters on downtown
streets would soon
be tolled; and later,
those just out for a stroll
would pay to cruise
city sidewalks.  

The lunch bell rang
and off they hoofed
back to their stalls
where bosses
monitored every call
and email they received
and sent. After all,

they were being paid
for those jobs,
and those in charge
needed assurance
they were worth
every cent.

*****

[Please note that all prompts have been copied from the Writer's Digest Poetic Asides website.]