(Quick note: Our programmers are going to be working on our blogs starting tonight around 10 p.m. and going through to Friday morning. Please don't post any comments during this time, because they'll likely be wiped out. As always, I advise saving a copy of your poem in some other program to make sure you don't lose your only copy.)

*****

So we meet again. I'm just going to pick up where we left off on the Wednesday poetry prompts. Hope you're having a good May so far.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a spring-related poem. This will probably be easier for people (like myself) who live in the Northern Hemisphere, since spring is now in full swing in most places. When you're dealing with a subject as big as an entire season, it's probably best to focus in on something very specific and use spring as the background. But you do what you gotta do.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Doppler"

There aren't tornado sirens in Gwinnett
County, Georgia. Instead, they sell weather
radios at Kroger. Everyone
does not buy them. Those who don't, throw caution
to the wind. When their time comes, it comes fast
and furious. It comes without warning.

Sorry for the late posting time this morning. Computer issues. In fact, I hope this attempt to post actually goes through before it crashes again. :)

For today's prompt, I want you to write a travel-related poem. It can be human travel, the migration of swallows, the trafficking of drugs, etc. Some sort of movement from point A to point B.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Should"

Fog fills the valley
so that he can't see
her little village. She
should be making her
way to him, but he
won't know until she
does. He imagines
her determined face,
body bent forward
and legs still moving.
Just then, a bird
lifts out of the fog
and on out of sight.

After today's poem, we'll just be a week away from completion! Can you dig it? I don't know if you're the same as I am, but I've found doing this prompts actually encourages me to write more during the month. I've probably written at least 30-40 first draft poems and/or random lines for poems that aren't posted on the blog. It's like each morning's prompt and poem is a jumpstart to thinking for the rest of the day.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem of regret. Get creative with this one, but there should be some form of regret either expressed or hinted at (even if ever so slightly). You do NOT have to use the word "regret" in the poem, though it's fine if you do.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"The Stupid Things We Do"

Where to go from here:
Keys locked in the car
with her 2-year-old
strapped in his seat and
crying himself red
with her new cell phone
in center console,
she knows she cannot
enter her house with
out breaking windows
or abandoning
her little baby.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a work-related poem. Work doesn't have to be the main feature of the poem, but I want you to "work" it in somehow. And remember: There are different types of work. Of course, there are the activities that gain you fortune and fame (or not), but then, there's also housework, exercise, volunteering, etc. I'm sure you'll "work" it out.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Dream job"

In the dream, he can't open his eyes
or his e-mail messages. The dream
dictionary he bought at the thrift
store has no answers; but, in his dream,
he also almost won a prize, which
suggests he'll almost be successful
in his current endeavors. Maybe
more important: Why was he shopping
at a thrift store anyway? He could
blame the economy or the price
of healthcare, but he really enjoys
hunting for discarded treasures--he'd
still haunt these stores even if he won
the lottery. In fact, he would still
work the same job that gives him nightmares,
because these things are the things he loves.

We're now 3 weeks into April! And to celebrate, we get a 2-for-Tuesday prompt. Hurrah!

Here are the two prompts for the day (you only need to choose one, unless you're all about pushing yourself to the limit):

1. Write a haiku. The haiku is not just a form but a genre of poetry. (Click here to read more about the haiku.) People sometimes go into writing a haiku and end up with a senryu or a faux-ku, but it's all good (and all poetry).

2. Write about the haiku. I know there are some poets (in this very group even) who are anti-form. So, I'm giving them the option to write their anti-haiku manifestos. Of course, if you pay attention to this 2nd prompt, it doesn't need to be anti-haiku; your poem could be questioning or even praising the haiku. Or something.

Here's my attempt for the day:

Flower blossoms
covering the car hood;
hidden bird poop.

We're now 66.7% of the way through April (after finishing today's poem). Despite crazy technological snafus, I think we're going to make it. Only 10 days to go after today! Yay!

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem of rebirth. There are many different types of rebirth available, including the changing of the seasons, the beginning of the day, religious or spiritual rebirth, a reconfirmation of good in people, re-learning how to love, etc. So think on it a bit, and create a stellar rebirth poem.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"No one would know"

This countertop was covered
in potato peels, onions, and
celery scraps. Flour, spilled
tomato sauce. Every meal,
a new mess. His movements
are methodical, measurements
precise. He imagines he is
making up for Chemistry 101
when he adds a teaspoon
of oregano and basil. He's
already browned the beef,
set everything to slowly cook
as he scaped away ingredients
left over, washed measuring
spoons and cutting board
now ready for the next meal.

*****

Looking for more poetry information?

• Check out our poetry titles (on sale in the month of April) HERE.
• Read the most recent WritersDigest.com poetry-related articles HERE.
• View several poetic forms HERE.
• See where poetry is happening HERE.

I apologize for the problem some people were having yesterday with posting their poems. I think it is fixed now, because I was just able to successfully leave a comment on Day 18.

Perhaps appropriately, today's prompt is to write an angry poem. That is, a poem about someone or something that gets angry. Could be a person, animal, or even them there angry clouds. As usual, I'm excited to see which unexpected directions y'all take with this prompt.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Stepson"

He is always angry when he returns
from his father's house. But I can't say why
or if it's just normal from taking turns.
He is always angry when he returns!
After a day, he loses his concerns
and is once again happy. Little guy,
he's always so angry when he returns
from his father's house, though I can't say why.

After today's poem, we'll be 60% of the way through this challenge. Woo-hoo!

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem with an interaction of some sort. The interaction does NOT have to be between people, though it can. For instance, you could write about the interaction between a bee and a flower; or an owl and a field mouse. Or just write about a traffic cop getting into an argument with a speeder. Just as long as there is some sort of interaction going on.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Only Gets Worse"

I watch the boys run around
the new playground. Another
father approaches me and
says, "Kids," chuckling to himself.
I don't know how to respond,
so I don't. "Yeah, my little
one--that girl in the green
dress--she's a handful for
sure." I never understand
why some people feel the need
to talk about nothing when
there's nothing to talk about.
He exhales a long sigh,
"Yeah, her mother's a bitch."
He waves gnats away from
his face with his hand. "How
long you been married?" He
apparently hasn't noticed I haven't
been communicating, and he obviously
doesn't care, because he says,
"It only gets worse," and
then adds, "It only gets worse."
He waves away some more gnats,
takes his leave of me, and
makes his way to a single mom
on the other side of the play
area. She watches him approach,
clutches at her purse, and
smiles nervously when he laughs.

Wow! Yesterday was quite a workout. Not only did I go for a hard 5-mile run, but I think we did about a million Easter egg hunts (give or take a few hundred thousand). Anyway, I'm not sure if I'm "feeling it" today, in terms of writing a poem. But that's what makes a challenge a challenge is to get up and write regardless. Doing so puts me in a position to be ready to write when I am "feeling it."

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem that incorporates a hobby (either yours or someone else's). That's right: Now is the perfect opportunity to write about your comic collection or your scrapbooking activities. And for the purposes of this challenge, I also think activities such as fishing, running, bowling, photography, birding, and gardening count as hobbies.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"We wake up in the morning"

while the grass is still wet with dew,
and we all launch our drivers--
some ending up on the fairway,
others in the rough. Then, we pick
up our discs and throw again
and again. We aim for the chains
we want to rattle. We ramble
on about near misses and how we're
kicking butt or getting our butts kicked.
Eventually, we finish the first course

and drive on to the next. By now,
the morning is warming, and we're
hitting our targets. Eagle, Stingray,
Beast, Aviar--our brightly colored
discs fly through the air. Some of us
under par; others over. Finally, we stop
for lunch. We talk about the day, how
we need to do this more often. Then,

we drive on to the next course. Repeat
the cycle. And then the next course. And
finally, we get to the fifth and final
challenge of the day. We line up behind
the tee pad as the sun slants westward.
We squint, wind up, and let our discs fly.
Some of us wear out during this last course--
our discs not traveling as far, not hitting
their marks. But there's always one
who digs deeper, though just as tired,
and drives from basket to basket, trying
hard as possible to beat the evening.

Yay! We're 40% of the way through the challenge (after finishing today's poem). That's right! We're almost to the half-way point. Woo-hoo!

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "So we decided to (blank)" and fill in the blank. Make that your title and write a poem. Some possibilities include "So we decided to plant a tree" or "So we decided to burn a hole in the sky."

Here's my attempt for the day:

"So we decided to keep writing"

Only a pen and outdated business cards,
but a Mexican clown (with face paint
and rhinestone vest) sang in Spanish
that made me feel he felt something
universal. Plus, I was waiting on Tammy
to bring back a pineapple smoothie,
so I took notes (red cap, black hair,
tip jar, food court, powdered sugar
all over my table and self). Maybe
I should learn a new language, wear
leather boots and cowboy hats, tint
the windows on my Kia Spectra, and
get Tammy to wear fake gold chains
and hoochie jeans. Maybe we should
check with the Pendergrass Flea Market
palm reader. Or maybe the point of
getting out of the apartment isn't
to change ourselves but to observe
others and write every detail down.

Sorry for the late post today. I've had family visiting from Ohio the last few days, and they were all leaving this morning. So, you know, us Brewers can take our time saying our good-byes and getting things together and everything. ;)

*****

For today's prompt, I want you write a poem about a memory. The memory can be good or bad. The memory can be a blend of several memories. I suppose it could even be a memory that you're not sure you remember correctly. Take your time finding a good one (or good ones).

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Climbing Stone Mountain"

First, we found the park;
then, we found the parking lot.

Next, we caught the trail;
then, we caught our breath.

She was afraid to look in;
I was afraid to look out.

The wind was cold on top;
the sun was warm at the bottom.

If you haven't done so yet, I just wanted to mention that you can sign up for a free monthly newsletter from Poet's Market (edited by yours truly) by going to www.poetsmarket.com and entering your e-mail address in the little field provided for e-mail updates. It's a good way to keep up with what's going on in Poet's Market, as well as this blog, and it's free!

*****

Also, I'm going to be interviewed tonight at 8 p.m. (Pacific) on J.P. Dancing Bear's "Out of Our Minds" poetry program on KKUP Cupertino. We'll be talking poetry and discussing the April PAD Challenge.

*****

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about either a specific routine or routines in general. Maybe something related to taking out the trash each week or washing the dishes every night--or something more bizarre (yet still a routine).

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Routine"

Each morning, I wake up and weigh myself,
thinking that a prompt and poem won't come
today. I look at the books on my shelf,
but my brain still feels permanently numb

thinking that a prompt and poem won't come.
I search for poetic forms to assume,
but my brain still feels permanently numb.
It comes down to triolet or pantoum--

this search for poetic forms to assume.
Both offer rhymes and some repetition:
It comes down to triolet or pantoum.
I choose without hope or expectation.

Both offer rhymes and some repetition.
Today, I look at the books on my shelf
and choose without hope or expectation--
each morning, waking up to weigh myself.

After we finish today's poem, we'll be a full week into April. Go us!

Today is our first "Two for Tuesday" prompt of the month. On these days, I offer two prompts. Don't worry: You don't need to write a poem for each prompt (but you're more than welcome to if you feel up to the challenge).

Prompt #1: I want you to write a clean poem. Take this however you wish. Clean language, clean subject matter, or cleaning the dishes. Of course, some twisted few will automatically link "cleaning" with hired hitmen. That's okay, as long as your poem is somehow linked to clean.

Prompt #2: I want you to write a dirty poem. Take all that stuff I wrote in the first prompt and twist it upside down. The opposite of clean is dirty; so, do what ya gotta do to produce a dirty poem. (Gosh, I hope this challenge doesn't get too messy as a result.)

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Mornings"

They always start clean. Two
bodies side-by-side. Arm
draped over hip, voices
whispering about dreams
they did or did not have
the night before. And then,
things always seem to work
out in such a way that
the sheets are on the floor
and both need a shower.

All right, folks! After today, we'll be 20% of the way through this challenge! And you're all kicking some major booty, because I think y'all posted as many poems through the first 5 days as we did in all of April last year. Great job, and let's keep at it!

For today's poem, I want you to write a poem about something missing. It can be about an actual physical object or something you just can't put your finger on (like "love" or "the spirit of Christmas" or something).

Here's my attempt for the day:

"The Photographer"

She introduces herself and gathers
the whole party up before and after
the ceremony. She wears a nylon
sleeveless, patterned shirt and black
leggings with a little lace near her
ankles. Her dark brown hair is highlighted
blond and she straightens her back
as one pair after the other walks
down the aisle. Her fingers are covered
in rings, but she isn't married. Instead,
she chews gum and holds her camera
close to her face, ready to brighten
the church with her flash. She doesn't
smile or tear up, her face serious and
clinical. It's not until she's saying
goodbye to the woman in her white
dress that she allows herself to smile.

Whew! I'm tired. Was up until 4-ish this morning (driving home to Georgia from Ohio); tried posting around then; but the site was acting all funky. Now, on 3 hours sleep, I'm hoping my spelling is okay. :)

It's Sunday! Yay! Five days in and still kicking!

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about a landmark. It can be a famous landmark (like Mount Rushmore or the Sphinx) or a little more subdued (like the town water tower or an interesting sign).

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Touchdown Jesus"

At first, I laughed—a giant Jesus

with both arms thrust to the sky—

because of its size and only the top

half showed. Also, there was

the location: same exit as two

flea markets, strip club, prison,

and Hustler store. So, why not,

I guess, is the correct question.

Over time, I've grown comfortable

with his consistency. Even awed

when the sun rises behind him

or fog lifts off the water in front.

But still, there are times,

especially when on the phone,

when I can't help driving by

and saying, "Touchdown!"

(To see a picture of my "landmark," go to http://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/9786.)

This is the last Wednesday Poetry Prompt before the 2009 April PAD Challenge, which is when we'll be writing a poem every single day (oh yeah!). The Wednesday Poetry Prompts will resume in May.

For this prompt, I want you to write a character study poem. Think about people you know or complete strangers. Like an artist, study them and then write. Stick to the facts; or speculate. I suppose you could even write a character study of a fictional character (such as Wonder Woman or Darth Vader).

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Little Marc"

The lights go out when he walks down the street.
No one wants to mess with him as he struts
over sidewalk chalk--this man who smiles at
a fight and knows every woman's name.
I've lived near him my whole life and never
once wanted to see him coming my way,
always relieved when our conversations
come to an end and no punches thrown. I'm
not sure how he got his name, and never
have heard it used in his presence. But once,
Johnny Andrews told me he saw Little
Marc so drunk that he'd stripped all his clothes down
to his tighty-whiteys. "He was going
on and on about how nobody knows
what it's like to be feared, how nobody's
ever got the guts to talk to him. So,
Darryl Pokerman--from southside--puts his
arms around him and says, 'It's okay, man.
Everything's gonna be okay.' But
Little Marc just pushed him off and called him
a fag," said Johnny. I didn't need Johnny
to go on, but he did anyway, "So,
of course, Little Marc busted a stick on
Darryl's head and kept kicking him until
some guys peeled him off, because you know how
he can get." And, of course, everyone
who knows Little Marc knows how he can get.

Skeltonic verse is named after the poet John Skelton (1460-1529), who wrote short rhyming lines that just sort of go on from one rhyme to the next for however long you wish to take it. Most skeltonic poems average less than six words a line, but keeping the short rhymes moving down the page is the real key to this form.

Here's my attempt at one:

"My weekend with Tammy"

We perused
all the shoes
in Syracuse
and then cut my hair
until little was there,
and everyone stared,
though I didn't care--
more focused on wining
and elegant dining
with Tammy opining
she'd rather go mining
in the mountains for coal;
so we had a new goal,
but somebody stole
our beautiful car
delivered from Mars
(made from old stars
after the alien wars);
instead, we decided to sit
and not throw a fit
or pout or spit
(our plan already quit)
at the crowded park
where we waited 'til dark
for the invisible balloon
to carry us soon
to the crescent moon
where we'll live until June.

I read this story off CNN this morning: http://www.cnn.com/2009/TECH/space/03/18/bat.shuttle/index.html.

Talk about weird. For those who need a quick re-cap: A bat was seen hitching a ride into outer space on a space shuttle. So, a bat stowaway. Of course, part of me thought, what a poor bat. But then, this being Wednesday and all, another part thought, what a cool prompt!

Now before you get too excited (or outraged), the prompt is NOT to write a poem about a bat burning up in the atmosphere. No, I want you to write a poem about something that does not belong. Can be about a person, an animal, an inanimate object--whatever.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Recess"

He balances along the outline of the playground
trying not to tip too far to the left or right.

He talks to himself about Megatron and Star
Wars. Optimus Prime and Luke Skywalker team up

to defend the galaxy. Meanwhile, the other boys
and girls play tag and four-square. He barely notices

what's happening on Earth. After all, it's just one
of many inhabitable planets within

the universe. Anyway, when he's not in space,
he's digging away at the earth, searching for ants,

snakes, and other creepy crawlies. The other kids
continue their games without notice. Every

once in a while, one may make a comment. But that's
okay, because he's just searching for his own space.

As you probably noticed in yesterday's prompt, it's time to start gearing up for the April PAD (Poem-A-Day) Challenge. Yesterday afternoon, I received confirmation on a very, very exciting new wrinkle for the challenge. I'll be sharing that announcement tomorrow. (Don't you love teasers?)

*****

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "Why I Don't (blank)" and fill in the blank. Then, make that your title. From there, write a poem. Some possibilities include "Why I don't look both ways," "Why I don't tie my shoestrings," and "Why I don't watch the evening news." So many possibilities, so little time.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Why I don't ride roller coasters"

Two men walk into a bar, but one was
blind. He had an excuse; the other just
followed blindly. The lines stretch forever
at amusement parks, and I love to watch
the people as they wait and wander from
one ride to another. My brothers both
love them. But I can stand in line and think
of rusty bolts loosening, scattering
several screaming thrillseekers across
the earth. I'm not a thrillseeker. They would
have an excuse. I'm just that other guy.

It's not usual that I go a whole week without a post between the Wednesday Poetry Prompts, but that's what happened this week. On one hand, I've been very, very busy with database and website work. On the other hand, I really didn't have much to talk about anyway this past week (wrote a little, submitted some).

For the last couple weeks I've been on a diet, and I've lost some real poundage (trying to get down to a decent running weight). So for this week's prompt, I'd like you to write a poem about dieting and/or diets. It can be pro-diet, anti-diet, or use dieting as an aside for the rest of the poem.

Here's my attempt:

"23.4"

Instant oatmeal, vegetable soup, dill pickles--
he counts the calories on carrots and wonders
if he's using enough self-restraint. When he
was young, he'd eat double quarter-pounders
(with cheese) and large fries; he'd eat three
large plates of spaghetti; he'd wash it down
with pop; he couldn't gain weight. Now, he
can't make the weight go away. He can't trick
it off his body. So he looks in the mirror; he
steps on the scale; and what does he see?  

As my stepson commented this morning, today is a messy day (at least, in the Atlanta area). Lots of rain, a little thunder and lightning, and even a little chill in the air. Since I've been coughing and battling a cold the past few days, this messy morning only feels that much messier. But I'm not too concerned, because I know that soon the mornings will get less messy and my cold will pass.

This is why for this week's prompt, I want everyone to write an ode. If you're not sure what an ode is, check out this link: http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/Odes+Praise+Poetry.aspx.

As you can see, odes can be formalized or irregular. The main point is to praise someone or something. You can praise a folk hero, a politician, a species of animal, an association, or even a pair of sweaty gym socks (though I'm not sure where I'd start on that one--Peeee-eeew!).

Here's my attempt for the day:

"An Ode to Poetry Collections"

They're always so thin
you worry about their health.
They don't make any money,
and they're never to be found
at the bookstore unless penned
by someone dead, famous, or
associated with MTV (remember
when MTV played music?).
Still, you can find them
in the seediest of locations--
coffee shops, college bookstores,
and author websites. Those
who sell them to you will not
look you in the eye as money
changes hands. However,
when you get home and crack
open these slim volumes, you
will feel part of a conspiracy
trying to shake meaning
down to its basest roots;
you will see someone working
hard at craft for the sake
of communication; you will see
a slice of humanity reaching out
until you feel the need to pick
up your pen and reach out, too.

Been back in Atlanta since Sunday evening, and--wow!--it's so much warmer. Last week in Ohio: 6-8 inches of snow and negative degrees (before the wind chill). This week in Georgia: sunny skies and 60s & 70s for the temps. It's amazing what a difference an 8-hour drive can make on my perspective concerning the weather.

For this week's prompt, I want you to write a poem about a neighborhood. It could be about your current neighborhood, a previous neighborhood, a neighborhood you've visited, or just one you've imagined.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Florence Avenue"

I drove through the old neighborhood last week,
surprised at how small the houses were, how
fast the houses passed by my car. When I
was a boy, kids played outside from morning
until evening. Now, the street might as
well have tumbleweed blowing from one end
to the other. When I was a boy, this
neighborhood felt safe, but now, I see cracked
windows, beaten up cars, broken fences.

I drove through the old neighborhood last week
thinking I might stop at my old house and
survey my childhood. Remember the fire
hydrant that used to shoot water into
the gutters where we'd splash around under
a hot summer sun. Remember the bend
in the road where we'd start all our races.
Remember how all the kids would play and
chase and call out each others' names. But when

I drove through the old neighborhood last week,
my car kept driving. The houses in which
we lived had moved on to new lives, the same
as we had. I realized I could not stop
to admire my history here, because
my past life no longer lives on Florence
Avenue. My history left town
when I did, still as a young kid, full of
the stuff that makes someone want to look back.

Sorry for the late prompt today. I'm up in Ohio this week, and Cincinnati got hit with an unexpected 6-8 inches of snow yesterday afternoon that led to my commute taking singificantly longer than usual last night and this morning. I was secretly hoping moving to Georgia would help me miss such fun commutes. Oh well.

For this week's prompt, I want you to write a poem that describes a view. The view could be from a window, a rooftop, a desk, a satellite, whatever.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Under the bridge"

He can't see as much as he hears. The difference
between a car and semi, the sound of voices walking
over. But he can read messages scrawled to no one.
Lisa Sucks in red over You Suck in blue. Something
written about someone's mother. Several foul words.
And it smells like cat piss and car exhaust. It feels
like the end of the world. Every so often, a train
clatters by--also covered in spray painted messages,
the world slowly being overrun by graffiti. The rails
are left alone. He can't see as much as he thinks.
The difference in going somewhere and nowhere.

It's that time again. Time to write a poem. Though I haven't had the time to participate myself, I notice a few poets have started writing a collaborative poem together on last week's prompt. Very, very cool.

For this week's prompt, I want you to write a travel poem. The poem must somehow involve travel, whether to exotic lands or to the grocery store, whether by land or by sea (or whatever), whether in a boat or in a recliner (watching the Travel channel).

Here's my attempt:

"Between"

The rivers have names like Oostanaula, Hiwassee,
and Etowah. Reasons to find a mouth or call home
or both. When the sun sets, I think the mountains
know. They settle and wait. Reasons to wander
across. I forget their names. Only know they are
there and ready to be crossed. A ridge overlooking
several peaks. A ridge without a remembered name.
A spot on the map. I've been there more than once.

If you want something fun to try this weekend, here's a poetry exercise that I often employ myself in creating drafts of poems.

First, write a line or two. Don't worry about writing any further than that. The line can be a random thought that pops into your head, or something interesting that you hear someone say. Remember: Don't worry about any larger meaning when writing this line, and don't spend more than a few minutes--at the most--completing this task.

Then, in a hour or so, write another line or two without taking into consideration the earlier line you wrote. Again, don't worry about any larger meaning. Just write the line and move on with your daily routine.

Repeat this process every hour or so throughout the day or over a few days.

Then, collect all the random lines and try to make a poem out of them.

The beauty of this exercise is that it forces you to get creative with connections and juxtapositions of ideas and images. While this exercise may or may not produce a poem you like, it helps exercise your poetic muscles in a way that you can use this same technique to help with poem revisions later on down the road.

Since I like to provide examples, here are random lines I've produced over the past week:

* Don't even change your face.
* You'll never take me alive.
* What's between here and there.
* I still write love poems.
* Plane tickets and video games.
* Here she comes again.
* I'll take you wherever I want.
* Not everybody is a good guy.

Here's my attempt with these lines:

"What's between"

Not everybody is a good guy,
and I still write love poems. Here she
comes again, saying, "Don't even change
your face. You'll never take me alive."
Plane tickets and video games
in her purse, she tries being sincere,
but we're the only ones here who care
about what's between here and there.
I grab her wrist and tell her,
"I'll take you wherever I want."

*****

As you can see, I took several lines that were unrelated and made something out of them. It's definitely a first draft, but I think it's a good example of how you can employ this technique. None of the random lines were written with this poem in mind. In fact, half the lines were things I overheard others say that I found interesting.

Anyway, here's my little poetry exercise for the weekend.

Well, after taking last week off, here we are again ready to write poems, right? I hope that you've been able to hit the ground running in 2009 by writing, revising, and maybe even submitting your poems. I've been able to do some writing and revising so far, but I need to submit some poems somewhere today to be able to keep that 2009 resolution alive.

Anyway, now that we're in a new year, I think it makes sense to make this week's prompt to write a poem that deals with something new. You can decide what that new thing is. You could write about the new year, a new item (many people just received gifts during the holidays last month), a new relationship, or even the lack of anything new.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Will"

She drove through the mountains
at night and in a fog to find me
waiting for her. It was still early
in spring. She was a little scared,
but she came. Then, we wandered
around, found ourselves in church
beside a receding lake. She drove
through the mountains, because
she believed in something new.

I did not forget today was Wednesday. Things have just been a bit busy. Now I need to get to sleep here soon before Santa shows up with his sleigh, but let's do our Wednesday prompt first. Baby Will is laying across my lap and looking around--probably wondering what all the clicking-clacking noises of my keyboard are. In the living room, I can hear A Christmas Story streaming in across TBS. They just covered the part where Ralphie decodes the message: Be sure to drink your Ovaltine.

That sparked my idea for this week's prompt. I want you to write an acrostic poem. An acrostic takes the first letter of each line and spells out a message (or word); or it takes the last letter of each line and spells out a message (or word); or a double acrostic takes both the first and last letters of each line. Anyway, I was thinking of Ralphie with his secret message and thought maybe we could write secret messages of our own.

Here's my attempt:

"For Real"

Some people don't believe,
and some people do.
Not that it matters to me,
though not believing seems
appropriate for those
clowns who think angels
lash out against demons

and punish everyone
under heaven who isn't
saved today. Forgiveness
is a limited time offer for
some people. But Santa
Claus still rides his sleigh
over the cornfields and

mountains, over the tropical
islands and the frigid
nations. Santa Claus is
going to do what he can
to make good children happy,
or give coal to the bad.
The last thing a person

offers should be their hard
won good behavior. They
never think anything exists.

Sorry for the silence on the blog recently (and the late post time today). As many of you know, I've had a pretty full plate for a while--and now is when a lot of due dates are hitting. For instance, I'm supposed to give my official and final sign off on our big Market Books database on the 19th, which is also the same day my son William James will be born, and on the 21st, we're relaunching WritersMarket.com! It's exciting times, but these times are also pretty time consuming (oh yeah, and there's them pesky holidays going on now, too).

But really, I'm sure many people are feeling a bit of a time pinch this time of the year. For this week's prompt, I want you to write a poem that involves time. You can write about how you don't have any time, or you can write about how you have all the time in the world. You could even write a time travel piece, something about watches (or clocks), etc. Whatever your slant, just be sure to give yourself enough time to write.

Here's my attempt for the day (just in time--o, how the bad jokes roll out):

"The curse of being an editor"

There's never any downtime. For instance,
when I read restaurant menus, I find
every misspelled word and want to break
out my red pen. Or I read a certain
word, such as "tires," and I start compiling
other combinations (rites, tries, and tiers).

When I read conservation, I think of
conversation. Reese says work is over
and that I shouldn't work eight hours a day.

"You should work six hours," he says. Then, he points
to a construction crane and tells me how
it's not a bird crane. These are the games played
by a stepfather and stepson: "Is that
yellow jacket on your yellow jacket?"

We cast lots for lost cats; whether we are
united or untied, we kill our time.

Recently, I was looking up poems that had to do with gardening and thought, Hey, why not make that a prompt for the Poetic Asides group? So, that's our prompt for this week: I want you to write a poem that is somehow connected to gardening, whether we're talking a flower garden, a veggie garden, or a garden consisting entirely of rhubarb. Or focus on a single plant from within your poetic garden.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"You will have to do better than that"

She said, "You will have to do better
than that," when he brought her daisies
after the first season. He knew flowers
were what made her world go 'round,
so he learned how to grow her favorites.

She said, "I don't want these daisies."
"You don't," he asked. "Yes," she said,
"I don't." So he spent the first winter
with his nose in a book again, learning
how to grow her favorite vegetables.

After the harvest, he carried them to her
from the valley up and the winding path
to her house on the hill. She said, "You
are no closer this year than last," and
shut the door in his crestfallen face.

During that next winter, he did not know
what to do. He was stuck. So in the spring,
he walked up the winding path to her house
and knocked on the door with his gardening
tools and asked, "Would you like to join me?"

She smiled and said, "Of course, I would."

Figure we'll just start up where we left off on the ol' Wednesday Poetry Prompts. If you like your poetry prompts on Wednesday, then you're visiting the right blog.

This week's prompt is to write a night poem. You must incorporate the night in some way. (Of course, those with a sense of humor are already thinking, "A knight poem?") The evening doesn't have to play a major role in the poem, but you must work it into the poem one way or another.

Here's my attempt:

"Overthrowing the fat princess"

"No one likes a fat princess."
-Collin Kelley

They came at midnight
beneath the full moon's light
with their torches burning,
their pitchforks raised
like their voices shouting,
"She weighs a ton;
her rule is done."
But there was a problem
with the villagers' complaint,
because contained in an ancient text
written in the blood of the creatures
that lurk in the night
is a passage that reads,
"Once mankind is ruled by beauty alone,
evil will ascend to the highest throne."
Which is why literacy
is as important in a monarchy
as it is in a democracy.

I'm so excited about Day 30 of our November PAD Chapbook Challenge that I'm going to go ahead and post now, instead of waiting until later this morning. It's November 30th in the ATL, so here we go.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a resolution (or lack of resolution) poem. This is the poem that puts THE END on your collection. Maybe you can wrap it up with a pretty bow, or maybe it's open-ended. But today is definitely Day 30 of the challenge--and your last poem of November. Great job!

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Missing"

His body is always missing,
whether we burn him in a house
or throw him under a train;

when we check for his remains,
all that remains is a mystery--
no blood, no head, nothing

but a vacuum sucking
the edges of our rib cages,
leaving behind nothing

but fear.

Wow! I can't believe tomorrow is actually the last day of this challenge. Isn't that crazy?!? I haven't even really been keeping too close of an eye on the poems I've been crafting each day, so I'll be really interested in seeing what I have during December.

For today's prompt, I want you to write an outsider poem. That is, write a poem from the perspective of someone or something outside of your theme looking in. For instance, if you're writing a bunch of punk rock poems, have a country western fan look in on punk rock. If you're writing a series of vegan poems, have a big game hunter interact with veganism. You get the idea, right?

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Parents"

We always seem to be gone for the weekend
when these things happen. A man in a mask
with a sharp knife or a meathook terrorizing
the quiet town where nothing ever happens
until we leave. On our cruise, we shuffle along
the shuffleboard; we buy souvenirs when we
make port. Our lives are so perfect that coming
back sometimes leaves our minds, but we always
do, and that's when we learn what happens
when we leave: The world quickly falls apart.
Five dead, one traumatized--killer still at large.

Okay, with 3 days left, it's time to write a top-of-the-world or celebration poem. Even if your overall collection is a downer, try to find something related to your theme to celebrate. After all, you have 2 more days to get back to your overall mood.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"He's dead"

The monster is dead,
we chopped off his head;

the vampire is gone,
sun burned him at dawn;

the mummy's kaput,
unwrapped head to foot;

the werewolf done died,
and nobody cried.

We're almost there. Time to crack our knuckles, roll up our sleeves, loosen our ties and get to work. What am I talking about? Today (at least in the U.S.) is Thanksgiving, which means it's time to watch parades, graze the veggie trays, loosen our belts, and fall asleep--after writing your poem for today, of course. Oh yeah, it's on.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem that could be the climax of your collection. This is the take-no-prisoners poem you've been working toward all month. You get to decide how you're going to approach this poem, but keep it focused on your theme--and make it climactic.

Imagine that if people read the poem you're about to write that their faces would melt off from the brilliance of it--and that they'll all get together (at least the ones who are still alive) and sing praises to your poetic brilliance. No pressure.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Witching Hour"

She hears him breathing,
but she can't see anything--
just darkness. Her skin shivers
beneath the autumn breeze,
no moon. She hears him
breathing and moving around
as if he knows where he's headed,
and maybe he does she thinks.

She grips the knife in her hand
tighter, thinks about how she
will do it, how she will stab him,
which direction she'll run to get
away. She hears him breahing
and moving closer; she feels
as if she reached out that
she could touch or cut him.

She hears him breathing before
she hears him leaving.

Okay, after today's poem, there are only four days left for the November challenge. We're sooooo close. And, yes, for those of us living in the States, there's that little turkey-themed holiday tomorrow and the biggest shopping-sale day of the year follows directly on its heels. I guess that's why this is called a challenge, huh? My recommendation for tomorrow: Write the poem first, then dig into the turkey (and take that Thanksgiving Day nap).

For today's poem, I want you to write a call-to-action piece that is related to your theme. Your call-to-action can be stated directly in the poem, or a more powerful way to attack this poem is to do it indirectly. Think of how The Jungle led to the establishment of the FDA and Bambi led to an interest in animal rights.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Mommy, Daddy"

I heard a shuffling sound in the closet
things getting knocked around
and I can't get to sleep
unless you check it out
or let me sleep with you
and don't you tell me that it has to do
with all them monster movies
you let me watch
because them monster movies are not
about things hiding in an 8-year-old's closet
are they?

I've noticed that a person or two has asked what I've got planned for after November. And here's what I'm thinking: After November is over, y'all can have December to revise and organize and select poems for your chapbooks. If needed, you can even add a new poem to fill a hole or two. Then, I want you to submit your 10-20 page manuscript (only one poem per page) by January 5, 2009. Tammy and I will go through the entries and choose the first official November PAD Chapbook Challenge champion! I'm not sure what being the champion will mean, yet, besides bragging rights, but I bet I'll come up with something between now and then (the winner will be announced on February 2--Groundhog Day).

Stay tuned for more specific submission details in the beginning of December.

So, anyway, that's the post-November plans for this challenge. On to today's prompt.

*****

Today, I want you to write a something-overlooked poem. Think about something that is often overlooked--as it relates to your theme--and then shine some light on it.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Nessie"

Maybe because I'm from Scotland
and hang in Loch Ness. Maybe because
I don't breathe fire as I smash up Tokyo
or beat my chest on top of the Empire
State Building in Manhattan. Maybe
because I'm camera shy, sure. But then,
Bigfoot is, too. Of course, he's got more
fur--so he's cuter and cuddlier, of course.
Anyway, I'm not complaining, but maybe,
just maybe, I've been playing hard to get.

So today is when we try to complete an experiment in poetry collection writing. On Day 3, I asked you to write a refrain poem that would be a shorter version of the poem you would write on Day 20. Well, it's Day 20, so let's see if this works.

Of course, it has occured during this month that it would probably make more sense to write the longer poem first and then cut the refrain out of that, instead of building upon the refrain to make the longer one. Yeah, that's what would make more sense, but I guess that's why we experiment, right?

Anyway, here's a link to Day 3, so that you can easily find your effort from that day and see how I went about doing this. Feel free to take it in a completely different direction than I have.

http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/November+PAD+Chapbook+Challenge+Day+3.aspx

Okay, here's my attempt for the day:

"I am the man standing outside your house"

who knows that you leave the door unlocked
every night with your curtains open to the naked night
hidden from the reflections of the lights. How you've grown
accustomed to having your power turned on at all times! I am the man
standing outside your house who knows you only have a landline, who knows
you always investigate the noises that come from the blackness, a slight
quiver in your voice asking, "Hello?" I am the man standing outside
your house who knows how to shut your power off, cut your line,
and turn the unlocked knob on your front door. I will not answer
when you call out, when you say, "This isn't funny." I know
that this is not. Still, I will come for you,
and when you scream out, no one
will come to your rescue,
because I am the man standing
outside your house who knows the others
will only hide. This is between me and you, and you
have no idea how long I've been standing outside your house,
how long I've been looking inside.

So after today's poem, we'll be three-fifths of the way through this November challenge. That's pretty impressive. And, as has been noted by several of you, it's not just the quantity of writing that's been amazing about November; it's also the quality. Oh yeah!

For today's prompt, I want you to write a point-of-view poem. Write from the perspective from someone or something obvious (or not so obvious) related to your theme. If you're writing a series of accounting poems, then today is the day you can write a poem from the perspective of your spreadsheet. If you're writing a bunch of baker poems, time to share the voice of your dough (or even your apron). If you're writing a series of poems from the perspective of an accountant for a bakery, then, well, I guess you have some options.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Silver Bullet"

I'm the only sure way to kill a werewolf,
the only way to make sure a werewolf stays dead.

If you blow them up,
their body pieces will find a way back to each other.

Regular bullets just slow them down,
and wooden stakes only kill vampires.

Cages can confine,
but only I kill.

After all, guns don't kill werewolves,
I do.

Wow! Are we really 17 days into this challenge? It just doesn't seem possible that time would be moving so fast, but I guess it's been so much fun that the time has been flying. Again, wow.

Today's prompt is to write a love poem. This may or may not gel with some poets' themes, though I'm sure if you bend the rules enough, anything is possible. Your poem can be pro-love, anti-love, confused-love, love-it-or-leave-it, etc. Your poem, your rules.

(Btw, I think it's so appropriate that today just happens to be the love poem prompt, because I totally love my awesome wife, who posted my prompts for me the past two days while I was without Internet access, not to mention setting my fantasy football lineup as well. So, Tammy, you da bomb!)

Here's my monster-themed attempt for the day:

"M.M. loves L.S."

She stops by my house,
so I follow her to school,
watch her walk around town,
but when we're alone,
I freeze up,
can't talk,
only stare,
which usually freaks her out,
of course,
and then,
at night,
I get so confused,
so,
of course,
I kill her friends,
to help set the mood,
but she's not into that,
apparently,
and she stabs me in the face,
so I play dead,
then,
I come back,
get shot out of a window,
and disappear,
hope for a sequel.

Every once in a while, I like to offer these title prompts where you fill in the blanks on a title. For instance, I want you to write a poem today with a title that is: “If It (blank), It (blank)”

So an example title might be: “If It (Hangs From the Ceiling), It (Smells Like Flowers)”

And to give you some flexibility, I’ll even let you replace the “It” words with a specific noun. So, to take my earlier example, the title could be: “If a Basket Hangs From the Ceiling, It Smells Like Flowers”

Here’s my attempt for the day:

“If the door goes unlocked, it could easily open”

she forgets to lock the front door
frequently
but doesn’t stress the details

not like anyone is waiting outside
wanting to get in

right

she forgets to lock the back door
the bathroom door
closes her eyes when she rinses her hair
so that she doesn’t know
when someone is there

Did you sleep well last night? That’s too bad, because I want you to write a nightmare poem today. You could write an actual nightmare, or present a nightmare scenario related to your theme.

Here’s my attempt for the day:

“The closet”

He wakes up screaming, “Mommy, mommy!
They’re coming for me again. The aliens
were scratching at my closet door. I could
hear them. I could hear them scratching.”

Good morning! I'm hitting the road this morning, so the prompt is super early.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a warning poem. Offer some kind of caution or warning related to your theme. Like, maybe, watch out for bad traffic. (Did I mention my trip starts off with driving through Atlanta? O, geez!)

Here is my attempt for the day:

"Monster Alert System"

Warning! There is a giant gorilla
beating its chest and terrorizing
the southside of Manhattan.

Please use extreme caution when
in the vicinity of this giant beast.

Do not stand in its path or try
to distract its attention. It is
believed the monster will just
seek out the blond who traveled
over with the beast, and that
once she is found, the gorilla
will head for a skyscraper, where
we will have people in airplanes
shoot him down. In the process,
the blond will fall for her captor.

Wow! As many of you have noted, I've been super pleased with the quality of the poems written so far. Y'all're swinging for the fences with your efforts this month. Very, very cool!

For today's prompt, I want you to write a "By the Numbers" poem. That is, I want you to write a poem that somehow incorporates numbers. Sure, this might've made more sense on 11/11 when a few of us got talking about math and numbers and such--but, hey, who says poetry has to make sense? (Or numbers for that matter?)

Make numbers a large part of the poem or small part, but make sure they get factored in somehow. With this group, I'm sure some really cool stuff will emerge.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Japan"

There are four oceans,
seven continents,
and hundreds of islands on this planet,
but I always return to you with my atomic breath,
my swinging tail lined with plates.

For just as there is only one Godzilla,
there is also only one Japan.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem that focuses on or discusses a tiny detail. It could be a tiny detail that is often overlooked, and you'd like to call attention to it. The detail could be one that if overlooked can cause good or bad things to happen.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Shirts"

Not all werewolves wear shirts,
and those that do don't always rip them,
though sometimes they do.

And the same goes for their pants,
with some wearing 'em and others not.

Of course, it's a minor detail, but that's why
I always kind of preferred the Wolf Man,
because he had a nice buttoned-up shirt
tucked into his pants. A gentle, though feral,
man who had a penchant for strangulation.

As the full moon peaks from behind dark clouds,
the gentleman grows hair, claws and sharp teeth--
his clenched fists open and search for a victim.

Today is 11/11. What a mathematical day! (As some of you know, Tammy and I were married on 08/08/08 at 8:08--so I don't take numbers for granted.)

I also don't take these prompts for granted. For instance, today's prompt is to write a deep thought or observational poem related to your theme. The poem can be long and persuasive--or short and profound. Think about your theme. And then, think about your theme some more. And some more--until you find some deep thought or make an observation that others may or may not have considered.

"Where did all the monsters go?"

In the movies, the monsters, whether King Kong or
the Phantom, always chase after the pretty girls,
which makes me wonder if loneliness is really
so strong as to turn both man and beast against the
happiness and beauty of this world forever.

Hooray! Once you finish your poem today, you will be one-third of the way to completion. Isn't that awesome? And isn't this month speeding by so fast? Possibly even, too fast?

Well, it's not over yet. Today, I want you to write a "survival of the fittest" poem. Try to come up with a poem relating to your theme that plays around with the idea of the survival of the fittest. If you think about it long enough, you may be surprised with what you discover.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Michael"

You can be good in school,
but I'll still follow you home;

you can lock your doors,
but I'll still force my way inside;

you can hide in your closet,
but I'll still find you right away;

you can stab me in the face,
but I'll still rise up again;

you can shoot me out a window,
but you can never find my body;

you can go to sleep at night,
but you can't forget my name,

or my William Shatner mask.

My stepson's fifth birthday extravaganza soldiers on today, which means my time is limited for the intro to the prompt. By 2pm, I need to have a cake baked, a meatloaf loafed, and chili simmered. I think I can do it.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a dream poem--or dream-like poem. This may or may not work with certain themes, so remember: You don't have to follow every prompt if it doesn't jive with your theme. In the meantime, I think I just heard the stove beep that it's at 350 degrees. Gotta run.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"He comes"

He comes when the night is silent;
he comes as a wisp of fog;
he comes as a giant bat;
he comes when no one else is near;
he comes to my side;
he comes with his beautiful teeth;
he comes with his ancient eyes;
he comes to take me as his bride.

Good morning! I've been hanging out with my stepson all morning (he just turned five yesterday!), and he's being kind enough to let me throw up a prompt real quick while he sings the Transformers theme song (guess what he got for his birthday last night?). Soooooo, I'm going to make this one pretty quick and easy.

Know how we had a prompt yesterday for a myth poem? Today, I'd like you to write a fact poem. Research a fact (or facts) about your theme and create a poem. Or make up a fact. Or spin a myth into a fact. Or, well, you get the idea.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Werewolves"

--"London calling to the zombies of death..." -The Clash

We do exist,
though only from full moon to full moon,
our howls shaking the night
into fantastic madness.

We do exist,
though we spread from village to village,
only to be killed by villagers
and swept under a rug of superstition.

We do exist,
though we spread from person to person,
our howls haunting the night
as people hide in fear.

Once you finish today's prompt, you'll officially be a week in to the challenge. Woo-hoo! Yay! Fantastique!

Okay, so today's prompt is to write a myth poem. Investigate a well-known myth associated with your theme. Or make up a brand new myth. Be literal, or get surreal. Whatever you do, finish today's prompt and do a one-week celebration dance!

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Nothing works"

Silver bullets don't kill werewolves;
Frankenstein's Monster fears no fire;
witches never cackle over
bubbling cauldrons; and The Mummy
is not under an ancient curse.

Sunlight, wood stakes, holy water,
garlic and crosses--they can't slow
the fast approaching Dracula.

Because not one of them exist.

Good morning, y'all. Saw there was some back and forth yesterday about focusing on a whole chapbook for the month. I understand how looking at a huge project can get very intimidating, which is why I suggest just taking things one poem at a time. My feeling with the PAD Challenge (whether in April or November) is that it should be about inspiration and fun.

*****

Now for the inspiration and fun!

Today's prompt is to write a praise poem. Celebrate or praise something related to your theme (or if you're themeless, pick something random to praise). I would love to praise all the PAD Challenge participants, but as you know, my theme is monsters (and I'm pretty sure there are no zombies or warlocks participating this month).

So, here's my attempt for the day:

"The Sun"

No werewolves without the full moon,
no vampires while you shine,
thank you for shedding light on the darkness
and always returning each morning.

As requested, I'm getting today's prompt out a little earlier in the morning than usual. Hopefully, everyone didn't stay up too late watching the election coverage last night (if you were watching the election coverage, that is). I know I'm still a little sleepy-eyed (though that may have more to do with these spreadsheets I've been working on for WritersMarket.com).

Today, I'd like you to write a poem that sets a scene. In other words, one that pays attention to the details of the scenery and uses those details to heighten the effect and meaning of the poem. For instance, if you were to write a poem about the election results last night, don't drown it in abstractions and ideas. Instead, focus on the setting of a rally and let the details describe whether the particular candidate won or lost.

Personally, though, my attempt for the day is going to continue on with my monsters theme: 

"Autumn Poem"

He loves the way leaves fall from trees
and collect on the ground. He loves
raking them into little mounds
next to the street. And as more leaves
fall, his mounds grow ever larger
until they're the right size for him
to climb inside and wait for kids
biking along the gutter to
venture close enough to jump up
and scare. The reason why no kids
trick-or-treat his end of the street.

I've heard the pleas from the Poetic Asides commonwealth asking that I post the November PAD prompts earlier in the day. I've been on Main Street and seen Joe Poet and Jane Poet working to put food on the table and still write a poem-a-day. I've visited schools, hospitals, and random fast-food restaurants and hear the same stories of "earlier prompts" in every large city and small town. From the corporate CEO to the amateur hockey mom, all poets seem to want the prompts earlier in the day.

And I agree, which is why I will make an attempt to post earlier in the day for the rest of the month. The beginning of this month was a little rough because of a database project related to WritersMarket.com, but that's no excuse for getting the prompts out later in the day. So be prepared for earlier prompts. Be very prepared.

I am Robert Lee Brewer, and I endorse this message.

*****

Whew! I am sooooooo glad the political ads will come to a halt today. At least for a little while anyway (since the political season is now almost a year-round phenomenon). As many of you know (even if you're living outside the U.S.), today is election day in the United States of America. Hooray for voting and having a voice! (Even if I do usually back the losing candidate.)

For today's prompt, I want you to write a "soap box" poem on your theme. If your theme is food, have an asparagus campaign for less discrimination against veggies. If your subject is parenting, maybe make a case for having one hour or less of TV each night in favor of playing board games or doing a family activity. Regardless of your theme, today is the day you can pull out that soap box, dust it off, stand on it, and take a stance on an issue (or several issues--heck, this could turn into someone's theme).

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Monster Rights"

-speech delivered by The Mummy

You all know me; I've been around for centuries
just hanging out in my tomb. Some people come and
wake me up, and then they get mad at me when I'm
a little grumpy. I mean, have you ever been
woken after a very long sleep? You're grumpy,
simple as that. Just ask my friend Godzilla, who
has had more than his fair share of interruptions
to long sleeps. And that's exactly what I'm trying
to get at. We are not the problem; people are.

Dracula, you need blood to stay alive, correct?
But when, my friend, have people stopped to consider
your needs as a living, breathing, undead creature?
Never! They just try killing you like a common
mosquito, walking around with their wooden stakes,
mirrors, crosses, holy water, and attitudes.

Frankenstein's Monster, did you ask to be created?
And who, may I ask, created you? A man! Only
to be hunted and chased around the countryside
by men, even though you, too, were once one of them.

From werewolves to witches, I've seen the appalling way
mankind has treated those of us who just happen
to be a little, um, different. Some of us,
like the vampires, have special needs, sure; and a few
of us, like the homicidal killers (a la
Freddy K. and the Phantom of the Opera),
indulge, perhaps, a little too much in our arts,
but I say, the time for monster oppression has
passed. The time for monster equality is now!

Okay, this prompt may be a little out there, but it's inspired by a few albums I've listened to (and loved) over the years. They'll have kind of a foreshadowing or refrain piece that shares a snippet of a song to come later on the album. And I want you to write a foreshadowing piece for a poem that you will fully compose later this month (Day 20, to be precise).

This piece should be short, sweet, and hint at some bigger picture that ties into your theme and the poem that you'll be writing on Day 20. You should think of it almost as a puzzle piece that doesn't become 100% clear until the accompanying poem is read later on in the collection.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"I am the man"

Leave the door unlocked,
curtains open, and power on.

Only have a landline;
investigate that noise.

When you scream out...

Okay, we've made it through the first day. We've got our first poems and our themes established. Now, let's get to the second prompt, which is to write a declaration poem: that is, a poem that makes a statement about your theme. A good way to attack this poem may be to write it in the voice of an imagined person or a real person who is not yourself.

For instance, if your theme is food poems, you could write a poem in the voice of Rachel Ray, who makes a declaration about the importance of food. Or if your theme is dysfunctional families, write a poem in the voice of Jerry Springer or Dr. Phil. Or, well, you get the idea.

(And remember, if you're not feeling a particular prompt, don't be afraid to steer yourself in a different direction. After all, our main goal is to have 30 poems at the end of the month.)

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Abraham Van Helsing"

Let me tell you of monsters:
Monsters is monsters, and they
will always be monsters. And
people is people, and they
can be monsters, sometimes as
terrifying as vampyres,
but people have a conscience.
People, when they are monsters,
can feel regret. Not so with
Dracula, not with a cold-
blooded vampyre. He will suck
his victim's blood, and even
turn his victim into a
soulless bloodsucker like him-
self. Monsters is monsters, and
they will always be. People
can be monsters, but they are
always people; they always
have room to learn from mistakes.

Good morning. Here we are. Another PAD challenge. Feels like it was just a few weeks ago we were doing one, but I guess it hasn't been since April. This time around I'm going to be throwing out a prompt (and my attempt at a poem) each day, but we're going to do it with a focus on having a chapbook's worth of poems at the end of the month.

So, with that said, I'm going to give a little more room than normal on following the prompts--and the prompts themselves may at times feel a little spacious. This is to give you the ability to write a collection of poems around a particular theme, which means, yes, I want you to give a little thought to the theme you'd like to explore through the month of November. For instance, your theme could be political poems, poems about motherhood, nature poems, food poems, animal poems, poems about your life, poems about a particular medical condition, poems about whatever, etc.

You probably don't want to make your theme too specific, but having some sort of focus will be helpful, I think. My theme will be to write poems having to do with monsters. I'm not sure if it will be just horror movie monsters or if I'll mix in real life monsters as well, but that's the theme I'm choosing for myself.

So before moving on, think a little about what theme you'd like to write about. You can include it with your poem today--or leave it a mystery for other writers to guess at. Totally your call. Here, I'll wait while you think of a theme.

*****

Okay, you've got your theme (even if that theme is just to write a bunch of disjointed poems). At the end of the month, I may be asking you to collect your poems together from this challenge and send me your chapbooks so that I can try to pick a Best Chapbook Award. If I do this, the winner probably won't be announced until Groundhog Day. But I'll give more information on this idea as the month unfolds.

Let's get into today's prompt. For today's prompt, I want you to look at your theme and write a "hook" poem. This is a poem intended to hook your reader on your theme. Think about the beginning of poems like "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" and "Howl." This poem gets right into the meat of your theme, and pulls the reader along. Think of a dramatic situation involving your theme and start there (in medias res). Totally.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"The Hook"

She screamed as she closed the door,
so that the annoyed boy could not ignore.

He walked over to her side of the car,
only to realize he'd tried going too far

earlier in their Lovers Lane evening spat
when she grew so anxious to leave that

she made him curse her under his breath--
now realizing how close he was to death.

As I was in the middle of typing up the Wednesday Poetry Prompt yesterday, my Internet service went down. Apparently, some construction crew cut through a cable that disabled all their operations in Georgia. Anyway, I finally got my service around 9:15 this morning. So, here is the prompt I wrote yesterday.

*****

Okay, we're getting closer to November, which for some writers of fiction means it's getting closer to NaNoWriMo time. (Btw, NaNoWriMo translates into National Novel Writing Month.) There are would be novelists lining up to attempt writing 50,000 words or more during the month of November. There's even a NaNoWriMo website you can visit to check out this phenomenon at www.nanowrimo.org.

Anyway, that's all fine and good for those who write fiction. But what are the poets who don't write fiction supposed to do during November? After all, their fiction writing pals are all busy cramming 50,000 words into their laptops and hard drives.

I'm thinking it might be a neat idea to try writing a poem a day in November with the view of trying to have the makings of a chapbook heading into December. If there's enough interest, I would challenge myself and others to write a poem-a-day (as we did in April). I'll provide a prompt-a-day as well to try and help get the poetic juices flowing each day, but you can decide to follow or ignore the prompt as you see fit. After all, our main goal would be to have 30ish poems at the end of the month that you can then try turning into a chapbook submission (or heck, I guess you could self-publish, if that's the route you want to take).

I can tell you now that I won't have the time to highlight poems (as I did in April). But if there's enough interest, I will definitely work to do the prompt and poem each day. So, if you're interested in taking part in such a challenge with me, please let me know in the comments below this post.

Often, poets write with an eye to timeless subjects, such as love, loss, war, death, etc. In college, I was often warned against being too timely in my writing for fear that my fiction and poetry would eventually need a thousand footnotes to explain it. I understand that point of view, but I think there's a danger in ignoring the culture and world in which you live.

So for today's prompt, I want you to pick something from our current events and write about it. You can write a poem from the perspective of Darth Vader or an ode to the Internet (maybe even an elegy for typewriters). Anyway, make it current--and, as always, have fun with it.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Jason Vorhees"

Technology will not keep you safe:
Your cell phones have dead zones,
and I will never die and stay dead
for I am as timeless as Lazarus or
the water in Crystal Lake. You can
drown me, chop off my head, bury
me deep in the ground, shoot me
into outer space on a rocket, but
I will return. As long as there are
teenagers unafraid of death, I will
return. Someday, you will learn.

Recently, I've been receiving an excessive amount of spam in my e-mail inbox. It's a problem I've had to confront, and I admit it's a problem that's been driving me a bit batty. But this daily confrontation (me vs. my excessive spam) is a minor example of conflicts that go on every day in every part of the planet. Whether it's getting your boys to brush their teeth in the morning (been there) or trying to wrap your head around a mathematical problem (been there, too), confrontations and conflict make for good reading, whether you're writing poetry, fiction or nonfiction.

So for today's prompt, I want you to write a confrontation poem. The narrative voice can be 1st, 2nd or 3rd person; that's unimportant. The main thing is that you set up some kind of confrontation between one person or thing and another. You can provide a resolution, or leave the ending open-ended.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"As I wander the empty streets"

I hear an owl hoot; I see it
descend to a STOP sign. We watch
each other at the witching hour
beneath a full moon: predator
and editor. And as neither
of us dare move, I think of you.

Oddly enough, it's raining outside. While that would be completely normal in my home state of Ohio, rain doesn't happen very often in Atlanta. With the wind blowing leaves off trees, clouds covering the sun, and rain covering everything else, it almost feels like October in the Buckeye State.

So for today's prompt, I'm asking y'all to write a rainy day poem. You can interpret what a "rainy day poem" means however you like--even if that means wishing for a rainy day, I suppose--or it could indicate a rainy mood even. 

Here's my attempt for the day:

"S & R"

They found you in the forest,
far from the nearest path,
hidden beneath some wet
leaves and unable to speak.

Even those with experience
never expected to find you
in the way that they did.

It was like a miracle or
an accident, this losing you
and finding you again.

Today is the first day of October. We're also more than a week into my favorite season of the year--Autumn!

For today's prompt, I'd like you to try writing an Autumn Poem. That is, write a poem that evokes autumn for you. For different poets, this will mean different things.

Here's what it means for me:

"Ohio Autumns"

Homecoming queens and kings parade
through the city streets as the cross
country runners splash through the mud.

Quarterbacks play action pass their
way to the hearts of every
available cute cheerleader

without a date on Saturday
evening. The Drum Majors lead
their bands to cohesiveness so

the audience can applaud one
more successful halftime--one more
getting from here to there, and red

cards fly at the soccer games. Those
cross country runners follow white
lines to find the place to finish.

On Monday, I'm going to be making the "big move" down to Atlanta to live with my wife and stepson. Luckily, F+W has been really supportive of allowing me to telecommute from my new home office. Still, it is a big move and will create a huge change in my typical routine.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about a big change in your routine. Everyone experiences them. For instance, big changes could be getting a job, having a child, surviving a traumatic event, first day of school, making a friend, etc. If you want, you could even write about a series of big changes that are kicked off by a small change.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Ohio"

I've always thought about you, the way you
greet people with an "O" and "o," as if
you're at first impressed and then deflated.

I know the feeling. We all do with our
buckeye necklaces and assembly line
hangovers, our empty factories where
our mothers and fathers used to march, signs
clenched in their hands, firm lines across their mouths.

If it seems that I am leaving you, please
don't think I'll use an "o" to explain you
to others. For me, you're always an "O."

As mentioned in an earlier post, Southwest Ohio was beat up by a wind storm that had hurricane force winds. Earlier in the weekend, I assured my sons that Ohio never experiences hurricanes (we just have twisters to contend with usually), but by Sunday evening daddy was proved wrong (once again).

Anyway, for this week's prompt, I want you to write a poem about something that would make you happy. For me, that would be getting electricity at home again (been without since early Sunday afternoon). For someone else, that may be a trip to Paris or a visit from a loved one or a teleportation machine (with the gas prices these days, it would sure come in handy).

Here's my silly attempt for the week:

"Electricity"

Without you, I'm propping a flashlight's glare
into the corner above the shower
to clean myself in almost warm water
before charging my cell phone in the car
on my way into work. I am sorry
I took you for granted. Please come back soon.

I don't know. Maybe it's the diet I've recently put myself on. Maybe it's the approach of autumn festivals and the thought of funnel cakes and soft pretzels. Or maybe it's just the poets I've been reading. Regardless, it feels as if I've been reading a lot of poems recently dealing with food-food-food (yummy, yummy food!).

So with that kind of introduction, it should come as little surprise that this week's prompt is to write a poem that involves food in some way. You can make food the main protagonist or give food a cameo. Perhaps, you could even make food the antagonist. Hmm...

Anyway, here's my attempt for the day:

"Food Sestina"

Though I like apples, I love pears
and have always fancied peaches,
especially with cottage cheese.
In the summer, I crave bell peppers
mixed with some light pasta--
maybe a glass of apple juice,

though I'd also drink the juice
left in my bowl of sliced pears,
because what better with pasta?
Mmm... and for dessert, some hot peach
cobbler, though not like the hot peppers
at the spice shop; those require cheese

to cool the mouth. But maybe cheese
would go well with grape juice,
yes, and some jalapeno peppers--
juicy in their own way. After, a pair
of freshly picked peaches
would hit the spot. Not pasta,

or maybe yes to pasta
after all. Some ricotta cheese
on the sauce. On the side, peaches
halved and a bit of cranberry juice.
Of course, my favored pears
and some sweet, sweet peppers.

But then I start thinking, pepperoni
pizza? Hmm... the thought of pasta
sauce slapped on dough, then pare
back an abundance of melty cheese
along with some of that blue juice
drink I had as a kid--or even peach-

flavored pop. That would be peachy.
But if I want to salt and pepper
my food, I should not think such juicy
thoughts. Instead, I should forget pasta,
and focus on some breaded cheese
sticks. Then, and only then, can I spare

myself the pears and peaches.
I will be all cheesed and peppered,
ready to juice my pasta.

For today's poetry prompt, let's write a poem about finding something. You can find an old award, photograph, or sense of humor. You can make it something funny, sad, or angry. In the process of finding something, I hope we all find ourselves with another poem.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Goggles"

He discovered them half-covered by a bush
as he walked his dog in the morning. They were

lined with blue and looked brand new. But
no owner in sight. No sign of why they might

end up beneath a bush. His dog immediately
tried peeing on them, but he said, "No, Kilgore,"

and picked them up. Attached to the rubbery
strap was a note that read, "The man who picks

up these goggles will today meet the woman
of his dreams." "These goggles are not meant

for me, Kilgore," he said, "I'm not meeting any
one today." But he still carried the goggles back

to his apartment and laid them on his kitchen
countertop. Then, he got to work by writing

copy for his garden gnome stock photography
business. As he waited for a mail merge to finish,

he heard a knock on his door. Thinking it may
actually be the woman of his dreams, he grabbed

the goggles and opened the door. In fell a woman
who he'd dreamed about multiple times, a woman

he had never actually met until now. She was
struggling to breathe. "I looked for you at the bush,

but you weren't there," she said. "But I had work,"
he said, "I had spreadsheets and mail merges

to complete." "I don't want your excuses," she
said, "I want you to save me." So he did what

was needed. He put on the goggles, held her
close to him, and swam them both to safety.

Sometimes, it's healthy to have a nice long rant about something. Ranting can become painful for those around you if it's all you ever do. But taken in moderation, it's a nice way to let off your own steam--and it can also open a window for others to let off their own steam (if they've experienced a similar situation). So why not apply the rant to poetry?

For this week's prompt, I want you to write a "rant" poem. You can discuss politics, religion, global events, weather patterns, that guy who cut you off on your way into work (not speaking from experience, mind you), or whatever.

Important note: I expect everyone to act like civilized human beings in the comments below and not attack each other over what they decide to rant about. If you wish to point out a spelling error or line break suggestion, that's one thing; but please, don't attack someone's political or religious views. On this blog, we are all poets.

With that said, here is my attempt for this prompt:

"It never fails"

It never fails: Always around eleven--
in the evening, mind you--there is a new
mother ushering her young children into
the laundromat, telling them to quit whining
and running around. Never fails, always a
different mother, around eleven. Now
I'm not one to stand on a pedestal or
pick up a nice stone for casting, but come on,
where are these mothers coming from, and where are
their husbands? But we all know the contents of
that Pandora's Box, don't we? Dad done run off
and left momma with the baby and mortgage
payment. Dad done run off and wash his greasy
hands. Always around eleven, a new mom
walks in and eyes me, wonders if I'm some Prince
Charming who's good with kids--after all, I fold
my own clothes and even Dad could not do that.
But it never fails: By the time that mother
labors into the laundromat, I'm folding
my clothes and trying my best to just get out.

Poetry is a form of communication--communication between the poet and the reader. But can poetry also be a form of instruction? Possibly. For this week's poetry prompt, I want you to write a poem with the title of "How to (blank)" where you use the title as the springboard for your poem.

You can insert whatever you wish into that blank and then go in any direction with the actual poem. That is, you don't have to write out the recipe for a poem called "How to make mama's lasagna"--instead, you could talk about mama, or lasagna, or something completely different. As with all the Wednesday prompts, feel free to have fun with it and get creative.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"How to be a good parent"

I spell out the names of my sons
and place them in a hat. I wear
the hat at all times hoping I
will never need to reach inside.

Our Poetic Asides inaugural Poet Laureate, Sara Diane Doyle, has been busy-busy-busy this summer working with teen writers. But not too busy to share with her fellow Poetic Asides crew a new poetic form she developed with one of her students, David Edwards. Since Sara knows the form best, I'll let her explain the form to you in her own words.

*****

A few months ago I began exploring various poetic forms. With each form I tried, I would post my attempt on a forum for teen writers, where I am a mentor. One of the teens, David Edwards, got interested in forms, especially the “created” forms. He asked if anyone could invent a form and I said “sure!” Then, he got the crazy idea that we should create a form together.

To start, we wanted to throw in every poetic element that we really liked. David came up with the meter and feet and I added in the repeating line. We came up with the rhyme scheme and length together. The result is a form we call the Roundabout. In this form, the rhyme scheme comes full circle while offering repetition of one line in each rhyme set. 

The Roundabout is a four stanza poem, with each stanza consisting of 5 lines. The poem is written in iambic and the lines have 4 feet, 3 feet, 2 feet, 2 feet and 3 feet respectively. The rhyme scheme is abccb/bcddc/cdaad/dabba. Roundabouts can be on any subject. 

Several of the writers on our forum have written Roundabouts and have had a blast." We would love for other poets to give it a try! Here are some examples to get you started.

Crash

by David Edwards

Around around the carousel

across the circles face

we cry we shout

we crash about

across the circles face

and ever always breakneck pace

by this unending route

and twists and turns

and breaks and burns

by this unending route

of ever always in and out

the yearling quickly learns

to run and yell

at ocean’s swell

the yearling quickly learns

to run and leap and then he earns

but he will never tell

there’s not a chase

that wins the race

but he will never tell.

When Spring Trips ‘Round

by Sara Diane Doyle

When wildflowers bloom once more

and raindrops touch the earth,

the faeries come

to start the hum

and raindrops touch the earth!

Come join the song, the dance the mirth!

Enjoy the juicy plum.

beneath the sun

'til day is done-

enjoy the juicy plum!

The clouds let out the beating drum-

rejoice with us as one.

Our joy we pour

for pain we bore-

rejoice with us as one.

Of gleeful hope, the snow knows none,

but speaks of faeries lore,

of magic birth,

the greatest worth

but speaks of faeries lore.

I turned 30 years old today. If anyone wants a fun Friday prompt, they can write a poem about the number 30 or about birthdays. I'd write one, but I'm overly stuffed from an excellent birthday lunch at this Mexican place over here with my co-workers. Hope everyone has a great weekend!

While I was on vacation last week, I had the opportunity to run the world's largest 10K road race in Atlanta, Georgia: The Atlanta Journal-Constitution Peachtree Road Race. Along with 55,000 other runners and cheered on by more than 150,000 spectators, I jogged 6.2 miles in around 61 minutes in complete awe and amazement. As a person who's run in some pretty important and fast races, this event totally took my breath away.

It's interesting to think about the kind of reactions people have to a huge mass of people like that. Also, it's interesting to think about why that many people would gather in the first place. Walking up to the start line the morning of the race, I felt almost as if I were looking at an assembled army--one decked out in tank tops, shorts and running shoes.

So for this week's prompt, I want you to write a poem that somehow involves a large crowd. You can be lost in that crowd, leading it, getting pumped up by it, or fearing it. You can leave the reasoning for the crowd ambiguous or make that the point of your poem. Just make sure you play around with it and have fun.

Here's my attempt:

"We started under a flag"

Helicopters hovered overhead;
people shot water across the street
and urged us on to the next mile;
some of us ran, others jogged,
and many walked; many of us didn't
even know where we were, where
we were headed; instead, we
followed those in front who followed
those in front of them; we weren't
concerned with the time; we
worried only over the next hill--
and then the next; some of us
stopped for water and marked off
each mile; some of us quit along
the way; but most of us followed
those in front to the very end.

...it appears we had a server crash last week, tied to some power outage thing-a-ma-bob. Apparently, all the poems posted between Wednesday morning and Thursday around 7ish in the evening for the most recent poetry prompt have been wiped clean of the site. Totally bummed, because I read a lot of great stuff on Wednesday (while on vacation).

It appears those lost comments will not be restored--so I hope there were no original copies in there. I'm lucky the blog post wasn't completely wiped out, because I just type my first drafts right into the box for these prompts. While this was a freak occurence, I would advise everyone (myself included) to copy their poems over into Word or something similar before or directly after posting--though before is probably the safest bet.

*****

In other news, I had a poem accepted by the Barn Owl Review for their 2nd issue, which'll be released at the 2009 AWP in Chicago. Very, very cool! As mentioned in the blog, I just started submitting again in June--so it's awesome to already see some good coming of it. :)

*****

Now that I'm back from my southern vacation, I've got a lot of stuff to post, so be sure to stop over from time to time this week.

There are many reasons people write. For instance, some just wish to communicate; others write for money; still, more than a few write to be remembered--or even be the inspiration for another to take up the pen (or keyboard, since pen is soooooo last century).

For this week's prompt, I want you to write a poem with the following title: You're the reason I (blank).

You get to decide what the blank is AND who the "you" in your poem is. For instance, you could write a poem called "You're the reason I ride a bike to work" that is directed at whoever's to blame for the rising price of gasoline, or you could pen (again with the penning!) a piece titled "You're the reason I don't attend weddings anymore" directed at someone who ruined a wedding (or perhaps, an ex-spouse). Anyway, I think this one should be a fun poem to write. So get at it.

Here's my attempt.

"You're the reason I'm afraid of heights"

Or, at least, the reason I used to worry
during games of kickball that the ball
would roll into the street just as a car
drove by and that as the car swerved
it would hit the curb in such a way as
to flip upside down and crash across
the fire hydrant sending a tower of water
into the air and street gutter that always
seemed to back up. The flipped car
would then, of course, catch fire--maybe
even explode. Maybe even smack one
of us children. Possibly kill us all, because
we wouldn't be ready for it. Except I
was ready, always ready for the worst.
Always ready for a kickball catastrophe,
a recreational apocalypse. And then,
there would be nothing left to do
as the water sprayed into the air,
the car burned, and the bodies writhed
upon the ground, but to wander over
to the kickball and pick it up. Maybe
splash around in the water collecting
in the gutter, waiting for an ambulance
and fire truck. Waiting for backup.

I'm prompting from sunny Los Angeles this week. The weather is perfect outside and the palm trees are already swaying. But enough about me, let's get to the prompt.

For today's prompt, let's write a poem about commerce. You can write about haggling over Christmas tree prices, bleeding money at the gas pump, getting double-charged for shampoo in the checkout aisle, or whatever. Just make sure it has something to do with buying and selling.

Here's my poem for the day:

"That's It"

I don't need any cigarettes
or beer this morning, though
I'll be back tonight, you can
bet. Probably should get one
or two tickets. Yeah, better
go ahead and do that before
I forget. Give me a fifteen
and a seven. Throw in a two
while you're at it. Do you
happen to know who won
the race last night?
                           Really?
I wish Tony Stewart'd won
because I had money on him.
Gordon, eh? Geez, I wish Tony
had won. He broke my lovely
heart. I had money on him.
Could've made something had
he won. Geez, you better go
ahead and get me a twelve
and a pack of unfiltered.

Before getting into the cool news, I just wanted to let everyone know who's been looking for the rest of the April Highlights (Days 21-30) that I am still going to post them. I've just been busy supremo working on the 2008 Poet's Market, which will be going to production on June 5. Of course, the one complicating factor is that I'll be out the entire last week of May because of Memorial Day and the BookExpo America/Writer's Digest Books writer's conference in Los Angeles, California. So the highlights are coming--just trying to fit 'em in with the rest of my "day job" stuff.

*****

So now on to this really cool newspaper blackout poetry stuff done by writer/artist Austin Kleon, who is based in Austin, Texas. (Note: It's funny how cool news travels. For instance, this was passed on to me by WritersDigest.com editor Brian Klems through HOW magazine editor Bryn Mooth who heard it on NPR--one more reason to support public radio, right?)

Anyway, Kleon grabs the newspaper and a permanent marker and starts scribbling out words until a poem emerges. In many cases, the poems actually turn out quite beautiful.

Check them out at: http://www.austinkleon.com/category/newspaper-blackout-poems/.

If you want a Weekend Warrior poetry prompt, this is a definitely a good exercise: Buy a local newspaper and sculpt poems out of newsstories. If you come up with anything good, post them in the comments below.

I had to drive into work in a steady rain this morning. Those who know me very well know that I loathe driving on the Interstate in the rain, because of a hydroplaning experience I had several years ago in southern Kentucky. Ever since that crash (no one was seriously injured), I've had this phobia when it comes to driving in inclement weather.

Which leads me to today's prompt, I want you to write a poem that deals with one or more of your own phobias. Or--if you are truly without fear--write about someone else's phobias. Or--if you and everyone you know is without fear--write about an imagined phobia (or write about my phobia of driving in inclement weather).

Here's my attempt, which actually deals with one of my other phobias (yes, I'm suddenly feeling like Charlie Brown, who carries around the fear of everything): heights.

"Control"

Rollercoasters, elevators,
unenclosed stair cases,
railings, cliffs, airplanes--
I'm afraid of how I have
no control over gravity.
If I fall, I can only fall
and let myself be caught
by the earth below. It's
simple really, but I worry
about the "what if"s when
I should just enjoy the ride.

Thanks to all of you, the April PAD Challenge was a phenomenal success. In fact, I think there's no way around making this an annual event moving forward. You can't even know how honored you've all made me feel throughout the entire month, and I'm thrilled to see that a supportive community has developed.

To keep that community going, I asked WritersDigest.com editor Brian Klems to set up a Poetic Asides specific group in their forum located at http://forum.writersdigest.com. If you have an account, just log in and click on the Poetic Asides link. If you don't have an account, it's super easy to create one--and it's totally F-R-E-E (and it don't even cost you any money). I have a welcome message up for the group, but you can begin your own topics and start chattering away. I'm sure there will be some crossover between the new forum group and the blog moving forward, too.

Also, on that main forum page, you may notice there are genre-specific critique groups in Critique Central. One of those groups is labeled poetry, and that's where you, umm, can critique, umm, poetry. Yeah, pretty obvious, I know.

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As far as the blog and prompts, I've decided I will continue to do prompts, though not at the breakneck pace of one each day. I'm planning on providing a prompt each Wednesday throughout the year--figuring there's no better way to get over the hump of the workweek than a little prompting and poeming. I hope that'll be a good pace for everyone until next April.

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I'm considering the possibility of critiquing one poem per week. More info on this later. But stay tuned--and prod me if I seem to forget about it.

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The Poet's Market newsletter is going to make a comeback starting later this month. If you wish to receive the free monthly e-mail newsletter, you can sign up at www.poetsmarket.com.

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On May 21, plan on attending the Poetic Asides 2008 April PAD Challenge awards ceremony--at this blog. I'll be recognizing those who completed the challenge, as well as some extra nods and pats on the backs and such.

Plus, at that time, I'll also be handing out awards to poets. Those who completed the challenge will be able to receive one or both of two awards: one is a badge that the magazine design group put together for poets who want to put the award on their blogs and/or Web sites (to show that you completed the challenge); two is a certificate that the book design group is working on that you can print up and tuck away somewhere safe (or proudly frame and display).

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On May 22, I'll be answering poetry questions all day somewhere in WD forum. More details to come on this as the event approaches.

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Okay, this post is long enough now, I guess. Let me know if you have any questions, concerns, comments, etc. And again, thank you so much for being so awesome!

So this is it: the final prompt of the April PAD Challenge. We've made it; we've made it. I'd be sad that it's all over, but I think in some ways we're only beginning. (For more on that, check back tomorrow when I do the April PAD Challenge Wrap-Up.) Today, I want you to finish your poem, thrust your open hands high in the air, and say, "Go me! I did it!" (Or something to that effect, I understand that poets can be a reserved bunch--so maybe a simple smirk and fist clench will do the job just as well.)

The main thing is to realize that you accomplished something great in participating throughout the month. After all, you should now have 30 (or more) poems to play with and revise. But here I am trying to stall on the final prompt of the day--not wanting this month to end. :)

And today's prompt is probably predictable if you go back to Day 1's prompt, which was about beginnings and firsts. Day 30's prompt is to write a poem about endings, finishes, finales, etc. Because we've reached the end: great job!

Here's my poem for the day:

"Saturday night in Clifton"

After an evening of perspiration and
secondhand smoke inhalation, the lights turn on
as men with SECURITY written across their
backs herd us out into the street. We're pumped up;
we still want more (encore! encore!); but the planet
continues its mad spin. So I twist myself out
of the loitering mob and sneak down a side street--
head buzzing with the crush of mosh pit memories,
the push and pull of sweaty strangers united
for music adoration. For a moment, I
feel everything is possible, but then an
overwhelming sadness washes over me: the
vacuum between then and now. I walk until I
come to a sign that reads: KEEP MOVING. So I do.

Yay! So many of you have made it past the sestina! And I'm still alive, though I'm sure many of you no longer consider me your friend. ;)

It's nice to put in a very tough exercise every so often (don't worry, the final two days should be a little more relaxed). In fact, with the weather getting so nice around Southwestern Ohio the past week or two, exercise (the physical kind) has been big on my mind.

Way back in March, I must've known I'd be in an exercising mood, because the first "Two for Tuesday" prompt is to write a poem about exercise. For most people, you either love it or hate it. If you do exercise regularly, it would be interesting to know whether you do it for the end result (that is, good health, a trim physique, etc.) or the process itself (just because it feels good to move).

Prompt #2 is a little more open-ended for people who don't have any emotions whatsoever attached to exercise. For this prompt, I want you to write a poem in the 2nd person.

Here's my poem of the day (combining the two prompts into one poem):

"How to go running on an August morning"

Start off with some stretches. Do your legs
first, then your arms. Walk to your starting point
and begin with a light jog. Let your muscles and
lungs ease into a rhythm. Focus on keeping
your wrists and hands slack. Relax your shoulders
and bottom lip. After the first mile, lengthen
your stride while keeping your breathing balanced.
Listen to the birds. Keep your head straight.
Relax your shoulders, your hands, your bottom lip.
Focus on your next step, not on the finish line;
stay within yourself. After the fifth mile, pull
off your shirt. Feel the sun on your skin as it begins
to warm the earth. Imagine you are winning a race.
Imagine someone is only a few steps behind;
lose that person. Relax your shoulders but keep
up a fast pace. Do this through the finish line.