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!

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Morning Warning (A Poem for Day Eleven of PAD)

For today’s prompt (day eleven), write a warning poem. Warnings can be found everywhere: on the labels of medicine, in the speeches of leaders, and in the advice of parents. Even stories and poems have been known to harbor warnings.

Alarm Clocks Are Easily Ignored

Morning Warning

Alarm clock
attempts to prevent
missed buses,
tardy slips, dream
distraction,
rickety reality.

Alarm clock
reminds me
of another
blank page,
of falling behind
on poem-a-day.

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

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?

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The Summer That Never Ended (a Poem for Day Eleven of PAD)

The prompt for day eleven is to write a seasonal poem. 

Parched September

The Summer That Never Ended

Los Angeles was once an earth

angel, but new research says
California is over.
Summertime is now twelve months
a year. One drop less a day has changed
everything—Joshua has grown
parched, no wet
for at least two state lines
away and grapes that shrank in the dry
cycle are raisins on the vine.
Hillsides are cracked
like over-boiled eggs, swimming
pools have become skate
parks, and we all want the wet shine
of terracotta stains to quench our lips,
bring back fall, winter, and spring,
while politicians hunt for a magical
plan to smooth it all away. 

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Instead of Counting Sheep (a Poem for Day Eleven of PAD)

At the end of my long day I had a bit of Fireball and now I have lost my mind. This is such a fun prompt, too! I will come back to it. For now, I'm having trouble focusing, so a haiku it is.

The prompt for Day Eleven of PAD:

For today’s prompt, make a statement the title of your poem and either respond to or expand upon the title. Some example titles might include: “A Date Which Will Live in Infamy;” “Guns Don’t Kill People, I Do;” “This Is Your Brain on Drugs;” “Smile for the Camera,” and “Be Kind Rewind.” Of course, there’s an incredible number of possible titles; pick one and start poeming!

What Do You Dream Of?

Instead of Counting Sheep

Count on me to lie
awake wondering what you
dream of without me.

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I thought I would add in the other version, which some people on Poetic Asides preferred:

Instead of Counting Sheep

Count on me to lie
wakeful, wondering what you

dream of without me.

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