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?