November 2012 PAD (Poem-A-Day) Chapbook Challenge -all contents copyright 2012, Michele K. Smith
1-Prompt: Matches "Tomorrow's Match" (a Shadorma poem) A match sparks flames of reflection honors, binds invites talk erases what's to forget evens tomorrow
2-Prompt: Full Moon "Full Moon" (Fibonacci Poem) Full Moon demands attention: lone, forlorn starlet in effervescent platinum
3- Prompt: Scary "Chained Throne" (Kyrielle poem) Fear's unrelenting grip stifles Each step forward into unknown Loss, failure, rejection and pain Life held captive on a chained throne
Resisting potential, waiting Scared hope fades, a song without tone Longing to dance on the trapeze Life held captive on a chained throne
4. Prompt: Just Beneath ... "Just Beneath the Surface" (Quatern poem) Lying just beneath the surface yet unspoken words speak freely at once solemn and frivolous in the absence of consequence
Emotion is pure, unrefined lying just beneath the surface still untouched by expectation cloudless and serene as Heaven
Deep unbridled aspirations are granted license to explore lying just beneath the surface a traveller on safari
We're all common seekers of truth wanting to belong, have purpose yet so often leave our own truths lying just beneath the surface
5- Prompt: Text Poem "B 'tween Talk" In text, omit all that's unneeded Full sentences? Time and energy have ceded Read 'tween the lines Under code, follow these signs
Letters R words; #'s 4 letters Stay up with the trend setters. Across a screen, Let fingers swing Remember: just keep LOL'ing!
Ignore proper spelling and punctuation's former pause Xcept 2 Xpress their modern cause: Emotions via sideways faces Punctuate, instead, in CAPS or bold in places
OMG Guess I'll C U L8r, Ur curator
Hey, BTW Best wishes XOXO ;)
6. Prompt: Left/Right Poem "Left of Right" Taking what's left: On one hand seems unselfish, frugal allowing creativity to compensate. On the other hand, it feels like settling, second-best sighs, earning the consolation prize.
Doing what's right: On one hand reassures our worth, fueling good karma's return. On the other hand, right is according to whose eye; even if it feels a lie?
There's always two sides to every hand. So, gratefully take what's left and earnestly do what's right. For, within each life's great hourglass there's only so much sand.
7- Prompt: Circular "Carousel" (Rondeau poem) Once again, up and down, round and round mystical equines on common ground prancing in eternal rotation aristocrats in glam formation masquerade, dignified and profound.
Gilded mirror, dancing light playground, this elaborate merry-go-round remains a carnival foundation once again, up and down, round and round.
Cotton candy-stuck fingers surround metallic poles as the organ sounds. Beware the childhood fixation: golden-token-only elation ushers young greed (not awe) to abound once again, up and down, round and round.
8- Prompt: Poem with famous dead poet "Tell Me, Mr. Frost" I thought I would give this poem a go by chatting with Henry David Thoreau yet found my mind stuck on your fateful road pondering consequence we can't forego.
So now, in place of a Walden talk I find myself with you on a walk traveling through another lush wood to contemplate how choices unlock.
Did you ever, in days of old wonder how the story'd be told if you made a different opt and down the other path you strolled?
Have you since this crossroad revisited and to yourself honestly admitted you truly wouldn't change a single step even if second chance was permitted?
Oh tell me, won't you please, Mr. Frost do you think something could've been lost or do you consider fate leads home and remain unconcerned of its cost?
10- Prompt: Foreign Words Poem "French Femme Fatale" The French femme fatale dressed in haute couture, a wild melange of eau de toilette and macramé. She rendezvoused with the avant-garde (never the bourgeoisie!)
With carte blanche and a laissez-faire approach, she drove a creme de la creme auto Nothing blasé, just whatever she found to be nouveau
One night, after circling the cul-de-sac, she attended a soirée, ate too many croissant, escargot hors d'oeuvres and creme brûlée.
Sipping Pinot noir, she felt deja vu then overcome with sudden malaise, She said, "C'est la vie!" and rested upon a nearby chaise.
11-Prompt: Veteran's Perspective "A Soldier Deploys" (Rispetto poem) prepared to make a difference nation-wide poised to secure others a safe tomorrow offer selfless service in honor and pride find my way ending terrorism's sorrow yet hesitant within such uncertainty wondering what my own tomorrow will be holding close, for now, those whom I love so dear knowing that the risk is stronger than my fear
12-Prompt: New Technology "J.T.D. Balloon" (a Luc Bat poem) Jetsons' Transport Device Covers here to there twice as quick Space travel at a click Retro-futuristic in one This flying bubble's fun Destination: the sun or moon The J.T.D. Balloon Too far past or too soon to tell?
13- Prompt: Letter/Recipe Poem "Dear Hannah" (Rispetto) From birth's first breath, you opened eyes to life's joy Love beams from your soul, sunshine within a heart At times I chuckle, a mirrored face so coy No matter the distance, we're never apart Each summer adds a year being my daughter Still wish I could shelter you from rough water I know life's lessons in time you too will learn For you, dear Hannah, boundless pride grows in turn!
"Hannah Pie Dough" In large bowl, mix together one part each of the following: Pianist of six years and counting, Budding old-fashioned cook, Gourmet cupcake baker, Possibly Lucille Ball's biggest fan--ever, Flag-twirler in the marching band, Honor roll student, Anthology-published poet, Reading Olympian, Alto in the middle school chorus, List-making planner, Trustworthy, considerate, giving, Compassionate, helpful, silly girl, Hugger extraordinaire
Pour mixture into a 12-year-old mold Watch the dough rise overnight
14-Prompt: Stuck Poem "Stuck Within" (Quatern) With sorrowful eyes and quick step she dances in a field of pansies Wearing butterfly wings that sway each breeze sends wisps of hair skyward
Her days are filled by make-believe with sorrowful eyes and quick step She spins around in grand circles trivial moments tied in play
If only she knew what life awaits perhaps she would escape the dome With sorrowful eyes and quick step stuck within the water globe
She dreams of mystery, drama beyond her world enclosed of glass Yet awakens to her safety with sorrowful eyes and quick step
15-Prompt: Tradeoff poem "Autumn's Tradeoff" (Rondeau) The melancholy of autumn's end creeps upon us as nature portends. How swiftly seasons pass in a blink, inviting once again time to think: Did minutes, hours, days I misspend?
September comes, intentions ascend; October fills with festivals penned. As November temps dive, spirit sinks: the melancholy of autumn's end.
This season's tradeoff we should befriend. Change cycles; on that we can depend. Modest, humble days are on the brink. First frost gives a peek with frigid wink. Embrace winter's own joys; don't extend the melancholy of autumn's end.
16- Prompt: Yesterday's last line/Today's first line "The Melancholy of Autumn's End" (Nonet Poem) The melancholy of autumn's end leaves copper, ruby, gold canvas behind, awaits renewal of a more sober kind: splendor replaced by sepia tones, longing for snow's fresh white
17-Prompt: How-To Poem "How To Hammock" (a Triolet) Rolling in and tumbling out It's quite a humorous act To laze away an afternoon swinging about Rolling in and tumbling out Worth each awkward effort, no doubt Lying 'neath shade tree canopy, sacked Rolling in and tumbling out It's quite a humorous act
18- Prompt: Glosa poem From Emily Dickinson's poem: "There is another sky" Here is a brighter garden, Where not a frost has been; In its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum .......... Outside the fence, life's moving forward, keeping up, yet lost all the same accumulating rusty dreams, soon-to-be-expired totems. There, wind and rain harden and worries fill each breath. Time too often gets bartered. Request for a pardon, here, is a brighter garden.
Inside this vine-covered cove words flow like downhill streams, ideas bud freely as thorned roses, and thoughts form daisy chains. Stealing over the fence, that lurking kin weaves wild runners of guilt, obligation into the tributary's vein choking and chilling with sin where not a frost has been.
Escaping under the canopy, the drips of jarring rain cannot penetrate the skin or shake the cocooned muse from its wrinkled seed pod. Foxglove's freckled spire towers along the fence's catwalk like a periscope watch with crystal ball powers in its unfading flowers.
In the garden there's endless nectar. Nature itself supports the leggy, lifting each wayward branch and nurturing new shoots alongside the weeds. Away from the foliage, I'm numb, a feeling of being stripped until again the sun returns and home, all's plumb. I hear the bright bee hum.
19- Prompt: Wheel "Ferris Wheel" (Palindrome Poem) Amusement Park: rides filled of thrill our pulses rise each climb high on Ferris Wheel on high climb each rise pulses our thrill of filled rides: Park Amusement
20- Prompt: Gathering/Letting Go Poem "Gather and Let Go" Early within your life, gather experience (alike: joys and regrets) with utmost gusto.
At adulthood's shadow, sort them into two sacks. Label: joys and regrets. Leave room to welcome in new additions to each.
Mid-life, take counted stock of the load you juggle. Smile at each regret; thank it for its lessons, then swiftly let it go.
So, in the twilight days, all the weight you carry will include no regrets; just a life full of joy!
21-Prompt: Song Title/Playlist Poem (suggested five; I used thirty!) "Something To Believe In" (ode to Bon Jovi) I Believe that if I can Keep the Faith and a Little Bit of Soul; Ride the Mystery Train even when there's a Thorn In My Side, I'll survive in this Broken Promiseland.
You see, These Days I'm Just Older, but It's My Life
When asked, "What Do You Got?" I answer, "The Fire Inside, A Diamond Ring, and A Bed of Roses with my Superman Tonight."
When asked what I've learned, I answer, "Love's the Only Rule, I can't Save the World, Everybody's Broken, yet Wild Is the Wind."
As for advice, well, This Ain't a Love Song, but realize that in every Two Story Town, Without Love, You're Wanted Dead or Alive.
So, If You Want to Make a Memory, Never Say Goodbye, just keep Livin' On a Prayer, Stick To Your Guns, and know that I'll Be There For You, with Every Beat Of My Heart ...just don't Lie To Me.
22- Prompt: Paradise "True Paradise" (Tanka poem) Warm breezes, sunshine Little cottage by the sea Sleeping under stars Even dreams can't compare when True paradise is at home
23- Prompt: Deep Poem "Deep Down" Deep down Below reason Under guilt Beneath regret Beyond emotion Untouched by circumstance Unaltered by time Undeveloped by growth Unbeknownst to immaturity Lies Purely simple Authentically beautiful Serenely peaceful Undeniably personal Truth
24- Prompt: The Truth About... “The Truth ‘Bout Questions” (Tanka) The truth ’bout questions is we never get enough answers in the end– just more questions. And then yet again, maybe that’s the point!
25- Prompt: Opposite of another of your PAD poems "New Moon” (Fibonacci Poem) New Moon Barely Subtle tease Discretely waiting Gradually exposed spotlight (Opposite of poem titled “Full Moon” from Nov. 2)
26- Prompt: Collection Poem "The Fully Empty Jar" (Villanelle Poem) Fully empty, ready to hold Dreams of tomorrow and perhaps Something collectible as gold
The walls of glass to touch feel cold A cloak of fear chilled to ice caps Fully empty, ready to hold
Upon shaking palms, truth foretold Like a plush blanket that enwraps Something collectible as gold
A poker hand nearing its fold A chance without paved roads or maps Fully empty, ready to hold
To peek inside, polish so bold Before hourglass sands elapse Something collectible as gold Stifled beliefs, story untold Hidden potential gently taps Fully empty, ready to hold Something collectible as gold
27-Prompt: Heroes & Villains Poem "In Light of Shadows" Heroes and villains: known arch enemies, undeniable foes and nemeses.
While one is noble, other: sinister. A writer's balance to administer.
Woven together, strength and weakness loop. They thicken plot like flour in thin soup.
Truth be told, heroes are made heroic in light of shadows of villains: stoic!
28- Prompt: Standing Up For What's Right/Workplace Adversity "Only Losers Lose" (Sestina Poem)
I tell my child, "For you I wish always that no matter what, you won't lose when challenged by some thing new, for the reward will be greater than you'll know."
Even when outwardly you lose, if you can say this one thing: "I did what's right/I know I stood up for what matters," You will reap ample reward: Self-pride, a hidden wish.
I've learned what I know from personal matters where I truly wished for the very thing of which there's no reward; and for that, I did not lose.
I may stand alone, I know, standing up for what matters --perhaps the single most thing I'm most scared to lose. But in the end, I only wish for a higher power's reward.
"I don't wish any reward but to know I have done the right thing," wrote Twain. Words not to lose about what really matters.
Remember: a heartfelt wish is a treasure, a grand thing of which you should never lose; rather, have faith and know that wise masters reward those whose life work mattered.
My final wish will be my greatest reward In this one thing, this one matter I know: only losers lose!
29- Prompt: Birth Poem "Birth of Creativity" (Cascade Poem) Birth of creativity moves the soul Sometimes all it takes is one simple nudge And away toward fresh adventure we go
When time, space, or circumstance keep reigns tight And it feels as if stress wins each battle Birth of creativity moves the soul
Switch of scenery, new path to explore Just invite the right brain over to play Sometimes all it takes is one simple nudge
It starts: a flirt with words, art, or music then surprises await freedom's return And away toward fresh adventure we go
30- Prompt: Milk Poem “Milking the Muse” As creative souls, we must milk the muse for all she’s
worth– lactate pints or even gallons daily of her inspiration.
Ignore the concept that she’s often quite elusive (sometimes utterly slippery), for the muse is the cream of the crop to a creative life, and must always be revered on a high shelf.
Of course the muse is female: She arrives fully-enriched with wholesome intentions for us, and that doesn’t even skim the surface of her value.
What percent of us would admit there’s no substitute for the real thing? Would you put your contents on display (even campaign in a white mustache) just to publicly support the message that the muse does a body
(and mind) good?