Love your poem today, Robert. Thank you.

FULL CIRCLE

Are you sure this is the way it ends?
at the beginning again
where it all began?

Why did I never notice my steps
turned, as if of their own mind,
towards the familiar?

That all life revolves around itself,
and we move in this circle
as we live our days?

Are you sure this is the way it all ends?
at the starting gate once more
where we took our first breath?

Why was I afraid I'd lose my way,
go so far I'd find myself,
Who I Am too late?

If only I had taken lessons
from the flowers that from seeds
grow to their perfection

and in season die and go to seeds
again! All life in cycles
moving in their time.

Are you sure this is the way it ends?
at this moment, in this place,
a new beginning?

#

(C) 2008 Salvatore Buttaci

The Final Sentence.

She came to me. Young and wild
With blue silk dress and flaming hands
Caressing me, hot and willing, still defiled
By drudgery and the several blands
That passed for passion, old-styled
Words that lay like slabs of fat,
Marbling white and milky mild
Old-fashioned splat.
Her touch had me beguiled
And I became ignited by her flame.
Burning my heart, she smiled
And pulled my words to fame.
But she's not dead, she's gone away,
And I'll be empty to my dying day.

i am so grateful to have been a part of this month-long endeavor. i really hope to continue to connect with many of you long after this! my poem is on its way, but i wanted to say thanks to all for your inspiration and encouragement and your motivation. i thought that i had succumbed to writer's block and apathy or just plain laziness with regard to my writing. this challenge has inspired me to keep writing, keep fighting, keep loving words and to keep on keepin' on.

thanks robert. thanks all. you're a tremendous bunch!

kristi

Finale?

I’m told it takes
thirty days to forge
new synaptic chains,
create
new habits, new ways,
changes that are kept.

Stronger now, linked and
bound, beyond unbinding
at the end of thirty days;
words and lives momentarily
joined
in poetic unison.

The joys
roll of the eyes
chuckles
frustration
triumphs -
each unwitting
witty participant
forever changed
all
grow
silent.

Until the next time!

Go us! We did it!

What more to say to everyone?

Oh, yeah - THANK YOU!

It's been a blast, folks! I can't believe how prolific we've been, cranking out first drafts. My aim is to keep it up, as well as working on some of these drafts. There's a book I'm going to delve into, called "The Poet's Companion: A Guide to the Pleasure of Writing Poetry," by Kim Addonizio and Dorianne Laux. It comes recommended by a fine poet I know. It took me until last summer to find a copy, though, at a Borders book store. Perhaps you guys would be interested in it as well.

I'm going to miss this challenge! Thank you, Robert, for encouraging us every day. Thank you, everybody, for inspiring me (and all of us) to keep going.

Elizabeth Keggi

In the Beginning

And isn’t this how life works?
In the beginning is the first word;
then the first kiss and caress; then the last.
A hard fall.

In the beginning is the sound of recognition:
baby hears mother; in the end the final familiarity,
the last time child sees mother alive.
Harder still.

In the beginning was my own life,
in the end, nothing.
Hardest of all.

Yet always the first implies the last,
Or at least the next.
And the end never is that.

In the beginning is the next;
In the end, the start of something new –
Mysterious, bittersweet, exquisite.

HAHAHA! I cheated! I guessed the prompt & just finished writing this two minutes ago, before logging on. LOL.

The End is Nigh.

So…
That’s it?
The sum of my
Energies and efforts
Put whole heartedly into
Something
I believed was real
And worth the
Investment. All that,
You reduce to dust, ashes
In two words? Well, OK!
Five words!
“You’re sorry, it’s not working!”
No! Hell no! I know
Its not me…
Of course it’s you, you sick
Twisted little harpy
Whose holding hands and giggling,
Whose breathless moonlight kisses
Were nothing more
Than stepping stones
On the road, the serpentine meandering
Path towards ruining another
Person’s
Life.
Sweet Jesus, I’m not crying for you!
I’m crying for me
For my stupidity
For allowing myself to be once more
Beguiled and hoodwinked
And emotionally con-tricked
Into believing that
One,
One of your kind could be honest and true
Sucker! That’s me.
Was a time when someone like you
Could have me on the brink of suicide through
your cruelty.
But not today! Oh no! Not you!
See, I done me some talkin’
And I got myself an Advocate,
Smart Southern fella by the Name of
The Reverend Jack Daniels
Now he put a case, mighty fine case
(as he would say) and the jury were
Impressed. So now its time to hand you over
To the judge
For sentencing
Have you met the Honourable Samuel Colt?
He don’t go in fer hangin’. No Sir!
Now let me have just one more little word
With the reverend Jack…
(Glug, glug)
(Bang, Bang, Bang!)
Why thank you Sam, Now that’s what
I call justice.

THANK YOU

Thirty full days of writing on demand
picking up whatever came with the prompt
actually, the month went by very fast
and the challenges weren't so difficult.

I'm surprised that I was able to last
without carving some trenches in my skull
it was good for my soul to play its part
and to be able with ease to keep up.

Thanks to Robert Brewer for keeping track
of all the details needed to please us
I believe it was not an easy task
since over four thousands poems we wrote.

Past this month I don't know what's in the bag
the training was good and I needed that.

Last Minute Before Midnight

His first daughter was born the last minute
Before midnight on a day,
(The last of the year)
When it snowed in southern Florida.
The orange growers panicked,
And the roads were dangerous,
Slick with the invisible black ice
That he remembered growing up in Boston.

It would all have been well,
(his wife took an epidural;
the birth was quick;
the baby, a daughter, perfect)
if the nurse hadn’t turned to him,
just after he cut the cord,
and told him to go to the front desk.
“You need to give them the insurance information,”
she said, her eyes bloodshot, like she had been
up for more than just this night.

Only he had no insurance.
The last day of work was two months ago;
The insurance lasted 30 days.
If the birth had come early, well,
His wife didn’t like to think of it,
But he did: “It would have been free.”
As it was,
Instead of going to the front desk,
He left the hospital.

He turned on the Toyota (no heat,
no snow tires, not even a working defroster)
and drove fast, recklessly, to the dog track,
skidding on the last turn into an empty parking lot.
He slept for awhile, curled behind the steering wheel;
Then when the gates opened,
He used his last change to buy coffee,
And his wife’s credit card to place a bet,
One bet, his last bet,
Not thinking for a minute that he would win.

Robert - Thanks for the opportunity. It was a lot of fun, even if you didn't pick any of my poems for you 'best-of' list. Hehe. Thanks for putting in the effort because it probably took a lot of your time. Your challenge has inspired me to get back into poetry, and I'm sure it has inspired many others also. What's next?

All Said And Done

On a warm night back in ‘71
They headed for bed
He told her, “I love you.”
As he did every night
Then rolled over
Got comfortable
And took his last breath
By the time she realized he was gone
It was too late
The night my grandfather died
And we mourned
We all cried
The pastor came by and prayed with us
And we mourned
We all cried
As we said our good-byes
And they took him away
Laid his body to rest
And we mourned
We all cried
He was a great man
Tall, handsome, and wise
He was a good man
The best grandfather in the world
My idol
My mentor
My example for life
And he watches over me to this day
From his eternal Heavenly home
With grandma by his side
She joined him in ‘99
After 28 years of loving him alone
And one of these days
They’ll both be waiting at the Gate
For me to walk in
To my eternal Heavenly reward
‘Cause when it’s all said and done
I’ll be there
When it’s all said and done
I would be happy if my life
Were half of what my grandfather’s was
For he was a great man
And I hope you all get to meet him
When it’s all said and done

PARTING FRIENDS

We laughed together
Cried together
Talked about our future plans
and helped each other through the pains of the past
We always knew we would be close as sisters
The children we would have someday would play together
But somewhere along the way
The tide turned
We ventured off in opposite directions
We had to grow beyond our friendship
We held on for as long as we could
Holding on for the sake of what others may think
was not a deep enough reason to keep our friendship in tact
Our spirits will always be close
The memories we created will always produce a smile on my face
The lessons I learned from the truest form of friendship and sisterhood
you displayed
Will always replay in my heart and mind
Perhaps years down the line
and many seasons changing
We will find this friendship again
if not with each other
but with one that God may send

Hey Earl.

I've got some "what's next" things on the agenda list for tomorrow's post. Definitely look for it. :)

Best,

Robert

The Last Time

You were so much smaller
than I remembered as your little
girl who kept a safe distance
from you and your fury

Mom said it was coming soon
the end for you and me
and all of us as a family
we know this
but we don't tell you

you are the family

We sat together
you told me what poem
you wanted read at your service
You are my poetry girl
you said
you told me again
that you wanted to be cremated
when I asked where you wanted
your ashes spread
you paused
just like you
to control the act
but not the aftermath

It was a long road
wasn't it?
and so sad it was
coming to the end
now that we knew where we stood
you my wild, raging bull of a father
me the daughter who feared, rejected
and in the end
adored you

Untitled

You’ve heard it before
One window closes and another opens
At times the shades are pulled
It may be hard to see what’s behind
Rising through the background
you think something is over
La fin, over, finished
never to return.

“To everything there is a season”
Nothing is final.
Nothing ever truly ends
At some point it will
resurface.
Maybe in another form
an unexpected flash
or an enhancement of
what was previous.

The End

“And in the end the love you take
Is equal to the love you make.”
Beatlles, Abbey Road

She always found herself worrying,
The closer she got to the end—any end—
The close of a school year,
The last pages of a good book,
The final stroll to the beach as her vacation wound down.

And yet she always pushed to get through,
Marking off days on the calendar,
Checking her watch, flipping ahead
To see how many chapters she had left.

She measured trips not in miles
But CDs—six from here to Nashville.
As she knit a scarp she’d probably never wear,
She kept a wary eye on the shrinking ball of yarn,
Concerned she’d run short before binding off.

Only in love did she never see the end.
Even when others surprised her,
Saying they’d seen it coming all along.
How could she even dream—much less fret
About the end of something she all along
Believed could have no end.

Talk about full circle -- my poem about firsts was about going to college and my father's advice, and my last poem was about saying good-bye to my father. What a great experience this challenge has been -- I got much more than 30 poems out of it!

Well, I'm in denial - it's not over! I got two for today.

88 years

This may be the end for you.
88 years of
abandonment
abuse
detatchment.
88 years of
fixing cars
running cows
building fence.
88 years of
the war
coon hunting
serving the Lord.
88 years of
not being my dad
not being my protector
embarrassing me.

88 years is a long time
but to me
the end has already happened.
Now I’m just waiting for it to be official.


Day 30

We’ve laughed.
We’ve cried.
We’ve written
Our little hearts out.
We’ve found a snake,
Named it
Let it join our group.
We probably needed therapy before
And probably will again after
But it was a good run folks,
It was a damn good run.

Wow some great & powerful stuff already. Teri, I got all teared up!

So,Im cheating again! I´m not content with one for today either but the next 2 are oldies & some of my favourites. Will post them one at a time...

Here goes:

Final Words

To whom shall I confess?
The priestly man, drab of garb,
the gaoler’s wife with flaxen
hair and breakfast tray: or
the executioner:
with terror masked?
To whom shall I confess?


And will it change the balance
now my guilt is known? I expect
no quarter
and ask for none.
Only this may I utter with
humbled breath:
that, whilst to live is to suffer,
to die is to forsake all
that I have loved.


The evidence is spake,
the jury may retire.
Let wisdom prevail upon ye
all. Falter not,
for thine is the power.
The verdict is…

… accepted.


(Written 1992)

This was actually about my guilt over the break-up of my marriage(´s ok, turns out it was her fault!) But works well as gallows poetry too ( he said vainly!!)

Patti, I LOVE your poems for today. Sorry about your dad . . . mostly sorry for you!! I've got your back, *sista*

Going to write my poem now, wish it wasn't a "last" . . . I came into this challenge halfway through (would have loved to have been here from the start) and have enjoyed and appreciated every one of your poems. Maria J., a special "shout-out" to you . . . I look for your poems . . . Iain, just when I got the spelling correct (wipes tear away), please keep Sammy in your thoughts.

To the rest of you, THANKS for humoring me and for your comments.
Cheers!
Heather

Eight Years Ago

I remember the day
We took our 18-year-old daughter
To the Albuquerque airport
Waited with her
Did all the checks
Made sure everything was in place
For her new college life in Louisiana
Soon she boarded the plane ramp,
a giant caterpillar that
swallowed her whole.




What fun this has been! Thank You Robert and everyone. I enjoyed your poems lotsa bunches. Lookng forward to the "what's next" things Robert has in mind.

Heather, I will miss you too (& everyone!) But as i said in a late post to yesterday which people may not have seen; i know people have lives to get on with but maybe once a week won´t be so hard to join in with. Won´t be the same, tho, not doing it every day.

Tomorrow is a holiday here so I´m going to sit up as late as I can watching the posts come in...

This Thing For Months

I have this thing for months
Wrote a novel in month
Created four works of art in a month
Did ten minutes of creativity daily for a month
Now wrote a poem a day for a month

At the end I have something accomplished
Not perfect but roughed out, ready
For revising and hewing and touching up
Editing and repainting and reworking

All because of the ending
The sweaty, stressful ending, that promises
Yet another ending, one I'll be satisfied with,
At least for a while
It's worth the sweat and the stress
To see a few gems emerge from all the dross
And clear the path
For yet another month and ending

Good job, magnificent, well done
Over, PAD is setting with the sun
Overwhelmed, now I have more poems than I ever had before
Don’t stop, leaving me wanting more
Beautiful, the poems were that I read
Yes, I can do it, I brought paper to my lead
Everyone, thanks, whom I’ve met along the way, and the End, afterall it’s almost May!

I just have to post this one. For some reason, the prompt for today grabbed me and shook this one right out and on the page (or should I say through the keyboard and on the screen). Does anyone actually use a typewriter anymore? I can hear some of the younger people out there saying, "I've heard about typewriters, but I've never seen one."

One By One

One by one
The years go by faster than ever
The birthdays come ‘round too fast
Could getting older be a curse?
Or, perhaps, a blessing

One by one
My friends, family and acquaintances
Pass on or disappear from view
Some I miss, others, oh well
Will I be missed?

One by one
The famous hit that final brick wall
Killed by bullets, drugs or alcohol
Cancer, heart attacks, or just old age
So many lives wasted

One by one
Soldiers die in the freedom fight
Misunderstood, and often despised
Their efforts are honorable and noble
And freedom lives on

One by one
So many young kids die in the streets
At the hands of violent, hateful gangs
Where are their mothers and fathers?
If only they knew love

One by one
The defenseless unborn are murdered
Under the banner of woman’s rights
So many souls sent back to the Creator
Blessing we’ll never know

One by one
Hollywood replaces family TV shows
With garbage packaged as entertainment
Filled with sex, vulgarity, and violence
But we watch anyway

One by one
The politicians lie for money and support
They make impossible promises for votes
They’ll turn on America for personal gain
Where are the patriots?

One by one
We turn our backs on our children
Out of fear, we ignore their true needs
Afraid they might leave, so we spoil them
We’re failing as parents

One by one
We’re doing away with morality
Taking God out of school was a tragedy
Our acceptance of alternate sexuality
Is sending us straight to hell

One by one
Satan adds to hell’s list of residents
Deceived by new age religious idiocy
Liberalism and feel-good correctness
Godless eternal damnation

One by one
We should fall to our knees and pray loud
That the good Lord would take us back in
And protect us from evil as He used to do
Before it’s too late

The End

I lay my pen down now
To me, it’s been a friend
filling empty pages
tying up loose ends

A challenge keeps me going
I can’t imagine a day
without looking forward
or having words to say

I’ve enjoyed every minute
As did my trusty pen
The ink is almost dry now
on the final words
The End

Thank you Robert Lee Brewer for this challenge. It has me excited about wanting to learn this craft. The poems have been an ispiration to read over the past month!

DEDICATED TO ROBERT LEE BREWER

THANKS FOR being a poetical you all the way to the ending

THANKS FOR an innovative fresh poetriotic beginning

THANKS FOR being patient as I played with my words

THANKS FOR motivating me to write curbs of verbs

THANKS FOR daring me to share untapped creativity

THANKS FOR critiquing and enhancing my longevity

THANKS FOR this cherishable, poetical opportunity

THANKS FOR the multiple exciting, edgy challenges

THANKS FOR literally forcing me to unwind

THANKS FOR stretching my poetic mind

THANKS FOR reading me for, me

THANKS FOR a rewarding ending

P.S. Robert I would've read more poems other than my
own, but there where many poems with different names
though written by the same person.

THANKS FOR this poetical outlet, again
H. Michelle Cooper

Goodbye my new friends. I am writing todays poem in honor of all of you.. the great poets I have met in this great group.

To Say Goodbye

To say goodbye to my new friends,
I find I cannot...
I am saddened to leave this bunch,
I find I will not...
Your thoughts and words will
stay with me...
You will be sweet
memories...

Debra

GOODBYES / ENDINGS / SO LONG

Gone
Out for some
Oxygen.
Don’t even
Bother
Yelling for me
Either.
Sorry.

Ever wander
Now that it’s
Done, if
It would be
Nice to
Get some
Serious sleep?

Sorrows too
Often
Linger
On, so
Now just
Get out!

The End

This is the end
An ending I wasn’t expecting
especially now, with the baby and all.
Who would have thought at 42
I’d find myself pregnant and
about to walk away from
a marriage riddled with problems.
Yes we’ve had our share but
have over come every challenge
we’ve encountered. But now
things were said, feelings got hurt
and why? Why, I ask. I blame the
medication. It’s been only a few
days, but it has been a roller coaster
of emotion for me. How could a little
round pill cause so much damage?
I’ve tried. Phone calls, emails, text
messages………..but no answer.
I’m left as I was before only worse.
I’m alone…….but now pregnant
with a child I cannot raise without
it’s father. Blinded by pain,
I go through the day searching.
Searching for answers, searching
for a path to lead me home, searching
for a home for that path to lead me to.
The ending of a marriage. The ending
of a life. Or is it really just the beginning?

Kerri, to the point!! Brilliant!

I just checked & in my zeal I have posted 73 poems,including this next one, 64 of them new. I knew I was mad, but now I is mad & all mused up!!

People yesterday spoke of getting on with their lives, back to reality. Remembered once wrote a poem of that title. Not exactly an ending poem but seems to fit..

Back to Reality

Down in the dugout,
the coach
is screaming
pitch.
Over on the frontline,
they’re dying
in a
ditch.

Back in the city,
the stocks
are going
down.
Out in the country,
the crops
are going to
drown.

Home, on the T.V.,
the man
is yelling
pray.
Up in the heavens,
the ozone
melts
away.

Here, in the market,
they complain
about the
cost.
Deep in the ocean,
the whale
is feeling
lost.


(written 1994)

(See, I can be serious, sometimes :P)

I’ve been wondering
How you are
Where you’ve been

How you could
Keep me waiting
Like this

There are so many things
I have yet to tell you
We were just getting close

I still think of you each day
Look for your words
But they’re no longer on the page

I’ll miss you
All of you

My thanks to Robert and all of you wonderful poets. This challenge broke me out of a long slum and made me realize that I am not one drawn to write in isolation, that I write to share with others, to communicate with others, and to read what others write. This month of challenges has given me all of this!
Kate

Funny Bone

You came to me already old and ill,
not the dog advertised in the paper,
“FREE CORGI –healthy, nine years.”
How was I to know I could fall “in love”
with a dog. You cried all through the first
night like a new puppy and my mother,
visiting from the east coast, lay down
with you on the floor, offering comfort.
Ally Snowshoes, you stole my heart with
your big white feet and your bat ears, I
remember you tacking up the stairs like
sailing craft in a stiff wind, nudging my leg
with your head in greeting, or lying on the
the back porch, front paws neatly folded
over the edge of the deck. I kept you
with me longer than I should, hooking
up the bag of saline each morning, but the
start of seizures marked the end. Clown dog,
how can I replace you? There is no breed
called “funny dogs”, no guarantee of humor.
I have loved dogs all my life but a part of my
heart that laughs will always belong to you.

Is it 4 yet?

I am looking at the clock
My desk resembles a dock
People come in and leave
papers, gossip and stress
Man this feels like PMS

Students are off task
Staff is doing things half ass
If someone calls my name
I think I will go insane

Excited to finish one task
Depressed when there is another to start
Picking and pulling through issues
Sighing and shaking my head
I think I shaved my legs for this

3:45 and I am counting down
15 more minutes and I have 20 things done
175 more things to do
Hate to file
hate to type

Catching a breathe
Answering the phone
One more glance
It's almost time

Redoing the to do list for tomorrow
Packing up cares of today
Placing them in the recycling bin
Smiling and noting the time
Today is finished by the moment I close my pen

If anyone is interested in a poet's contact group, I'd be willing to enter my email address into the mix. Anyone?....Anyone?....

How about it, Robert. You want to compile a list of interested folks?

After all this time
I never would of thought this 26 years ago,
that I would just leave without really
knowing why. Yes, I don't love you anymore, an
I haven't for a very long time. You just let
me leave. Without trying to make me stay. I
thought you would of least cared one more time.
I know I hurt you in so many, many ways. I don't
really know why. I had no more love to give. It
just left me along with all my emotions and feelings.
I never would of expected this, the way I use to care,
I loved you without even thinking, with every breath
I took you were there. How does something like this
leave and where does it go. I have so many questions
that can not be answered. You are gone now, we are apart.
But there will always be a place for you in my heart.
goodbye now and have a great life, I hope you find the
love you want and have a new wife.

The End

I'm going to throw everything away on Wednesday and pretend we are moving.
If we get bad news, I'm going to go to bed and cry for five days straight.
And stay drunk the whole time.
And not shave my legs.

Patti


That about says it! My friend, Patti, said that to me three or so years ago in a conversation. It was so funny, I HAD to write it down, she doesn't know that I did. I hope she doesn't mind me sharing her words with you. She's going to be published one of these days!!!!!!
Heather

Tonight’s Da Night
By Bill Kirk

Tonight’s da night.
I’m finally bustin’ outta dis joint!
I gotta admit,
In the beginning I had my doubts.
Bein’ stuck in solitary kin do dat to a guy—
It’s the sameness dat really gets to youse.
Every day, da same.
Week after week.
Month after month.
All alone, day and night.
Oh, yeah, especially at night.
No light.
Well maybe some shadows—if youse is lucky.
I guy can only take it for so long, ya know.

Den dere’s da quiet.
No tellin’ whose around ya—or even if.
Yeah, sure. I hear noises—
Sometimes dere’s some bangin’ around.
But mostly just muffled sounds.
Kinda like muh nah…dub mahhh buhn dah—
Youse knows what I’m sayin’ I’m shua.
I mean, I ain’t much of a talker.
But no communicatin’ with nobody?
Now, dat’ll drive a guy nuts, I’m tellin’ ya—

What are you sayin’? Food?
Youse wants to know about da food?
Yeah, dey feed ya—
At least dat’s what dey call it.
Dey pipe da stuff in from someplace—
I don’t know where.
And dey keep it comin’ around the clock.
I don’t wanna complain too much.
But couldn’t a guy get a little variation?

Hey! Enough of dis chatter.
My solitary days is almost over now.
I’m gettin’ outta dis place.
I heard dat some guys get help from outside.
But not me. I found da plans to dis joint.
And I got my route all figured out.
I’m goin’ solo, too.
Nobody’s comin’ wit me
Just me doin’ a belly crawl all da way out,
Right through da plumbing.

I can’t wait to read da papers
Once the story gets out—

“Billy Da Kid Escapes. If youse run into him,
Give him some space--he’s a screamer!
And after nine months in solitary,
He’s gonna need a bath!”

Ha! Tonight’s da night!

I danced with daisies
in a field by the lake.
Every so dainty,
the flowers took my side
pleading my case before
the towering hemlocks,
the gathering clouds.
Let this girl be,
let her live and be heard
let her grow.
But the answer was no.

Close one door,
Open another.
Isn’t that what they say?
Maybe if I just keep it cracked,
Don’t lock it?
Don’t walk too far away…
It ain’t over ‘til it’s over
And the fat lady sings her song.
It was good while it lasted;
We all learned to sing along.
I was taught a trick or two
And challenged every day.
Thank you, Robert, for this chance…
What more can I say?
Goodbye ‘til we meet again.
The pleasure’s been all mine.
I’ve enjoyed the talent shared,
Daily, line by line.

Catchers
The bottom of the ninth, bases loaded
Two outs and my team is up by one
Stuck between a swinging bat
And the crowding body of the ump
I crouch, mitt raised and ready
Face mask in place and eyes on pitcher
Ball into mitt – stand and throw back
“Strike one”
Ball wide to the right – leap to the side, catch, toss back
“Ball”
Ball floating strait and true
Thunk – wood connects just on the ball’s underside
The ball soars upward and back
Foul ball in the air
I rush backward, trip on the ump’s shoe and fall
Mitt in air, ball falling, I close the mitt
“Out”

If only poetry could be as simple
When I’m caught in the middle between danger and judgment
Destined to write
But on one side is danger – editors wielding red pens
And behind me, my readers passing judgment
Every time, I want a home run or at least a base hit
Or I’m out

Iain, I understand you getting back to other commitments. I really need to spend some time grading papers, posting grades and all of that other teacher stuff to finish up the year. I am also neglecting my other writing... but I usually try to do more than I ought to...

In the End

I'm not one for sentimentality,
nor hugs and sweet longing looks,
I'm not one who signs a letter with X’s and O’s
nor do I offer many words of compassionate woes.

Despite my lack of heat-felt warm wishes,
despite my resistance to the fighting the blues
with gifts from the heart or tender and sublime schmooze,
I do wish you well and I do care to listen
when your heart aches and your life has gone missing;

It’s just my own way of caring for you
and it’s how I listen that thwarts all your moods,
so when I may seem callus or not caring at all,
you will know my intentions are good and
I’ll be the one who’ll catch you if you fall.

Unfortunate ends

We fought over ends long ago.
Some wanted brown and crusty-good end,
flaking in youthful mouths,
crumbling onto holiday tables and printed paper napkins crumpled in untidy laps.
Smeary butter-littered plates stained pudgy fingers
and marred temporary tatoos of reindeer or pink bunnies.
Others bawled, wailing at their leathery morsels,
craving the mellow softness inside.

*Thanks for a great month Robert! I enjoyed it!!!!"

“Waiting for …”

The poet takes a breath and hangs his head
Perspiration mixed with excitement permeates the air
He closes his eyes, body still swooning to the rhythm he created
Waiting for the crowd to lift him up
Or tear him down
Every sound matters to him right now and yes silence is a sound
His knuckles turn white as he tightly clenches the mic
The front row shuffles
Many voices chatter but it’s all just a muffle
This is the moment he has waited on for so many years
The culmination of blood, sweat, tears and of course hard work
He can hear his heart beating; he can feel the pulse in his ears
He scans the crowded quickly
He picks out who he thinks he has moved
And the guy at the rear hints that he may have more work to do
But he doesn’t let it affect him; he is still waiting on the rest of the room
Waiting for a signal of glory or the silence of impending doom
The clock on the rear wall though obscured by a smoky hazed
Is too clear in his eyes but then again minds tricks are clear that way
What seems like an eternity to the poet
Is only a few seconds
That the once nodding heads needing for a breath
As accolades and snapping fingers begin to fill the air
He doesn’t smile or doesn’t relax
His body and soul just absorbs this moment in time
He knows that he has given away a part of himself
And received something eternal, ethereal
As he walks away with their minds

Thanks for the challenge, Robert. This is exactly what I needed to learn to stop relying on the whims of the muse and start writing on a regular basis and thanks to everyone for sharing your wonderful words. :)

The end of an era.
The end of a line.
The finishing stroke,
set in stone, set in time.
The source of all context
in the grand design.
The last frame of reference
by which all is defined.

The Clean Break

"Gentle lady, do not sing
Sad songs about the end of love;
Lay aside sadness and sing
How love that passes is enough"

-- from James Joyce's Chamber Music, "XXVIII"

And the room becomes bare
after the door slams shut
and our words run quietly
through curtains; plunge
to their deaths on concrete
two floors down. Two stories
with many sides. I won't
listen to yours and you
won't come back
or call to listen to mine.

Months later after I have
choked on tears, overdosed
on memories and stained
myself with anger, I will
try and remember what you said
about impermanence. "Nothing
is sacred" you said with a flat
smile, emphasizing what IS is
or isn't.

Oh, I wish I was one
of those girls who shrugs
her love off with ease
when it falls out of place. Instead
I am the one who decides
that "impermanence" is just
another big word you used
to cover your ass
and make a clean break; a long-
gone forget-away.

I try not to make a retro-
spectacle of myself
when I see you drunk
in public; waxing nostalgic
about how then was something
greater than now. My love
goes on with patient
eyes while I smoke
without anyone blowing
smoke up my backside
or feeding me
grand abstractions.

I will forever fold
into the arms of trust
but refuse to hold
your hand again, my friend.
We are fooling ourselves
when we say we will be
or could be friends. I do not
trust illusions. And so this is
the end of that, again,
and also, this.

Thank you, Robert, for offering PAD April 2008. And thank you, Lori for posting it on the e-group; perhaps one day we will meet. It would be fun to meet all of you who have been a part of this monthly endeavor. Your words, your poems have inspired me to open up and take the world on one word at at time. It has been especially delightful writing again for such a committed purpose. I took a hiatus for about 10 years from the habitual fun of writing daily. I am looking forward to seeing what comes up tomorrow. Have a great day, y’all!


PAD #30 posted on April 30, 2008 “Finishing/End/Finale” poem
The Last Day of April©
April 30, 2008
Last night was the night before the last day
Of April
And I thought
One last day with words of magnificence
Pounding my soul to be the best

And today with that my journey with terrific poets
Poets of the April PAD
Ends, so final - we are finished

Or maybe depending on a lot of things
Roberts wrap-up
Other’s voices
We will continue to begin
Again
Tomorrow

But, today is the last day of April
April 30, 2008
I’ll sing a song!
Clench my fist!
Yell Hurrah!
Jump for Joy!
Appreciate me!
Appreciate You!
All of you from April PAD 2008
Who have enriched me,
My words, my thoughts,
My silence, my noise
WHAT JOY!
Sally DiUlus sdiulus@cefe.org

Endings

Sometimes we plan them—
plotting like a five-star general
--use up sick leave
--redo resume
--discretely inquire about COBRA benefits
and rolling over our 401K,
before we break the news.

Sometimes we expect, even welcome
their presence in our lives
--college calculus class
--political ad campaigns,
--and most blind dates.

Sometimes they drop out of a cloud-
less sky and stun us into silence.
--divorce
--death
--desertion.

But always their presence,
threatening or benign,
displays the structure
of our three-act lives.

Carol Brian

I extend a giant thank you to everyone on this blog, but especially to Robert for not only coming up with this incredible challenge, but also for keeping it going every single day throughout the month. All I had to do was write a poem each day (and I found that pretty tiring!), but you had to come up with prompts for the rest of us, write your own poem, pick out daily highlights, and do your 'day job!' And you did great!

Thank you, everyone!!

Jen

Goodbye, Rousseau

For sixteen years she lived
on that not-so-civilized island.
She watched everyone she knew die,
watched her daughter taken
by nearly faceless arms.
Used her spare time, all sixteen years
of it, to build elaborate bobby traps
with wire and arrows, torture devices
from wire bed frames and batteries,
a small hidden home for herself.
She dodged whispers in the jungle
and coursing black smoke, went
more than a little mad, and blew up
that little home.

In that same sixteen years,
in the world outside her island,
Russia opened its first
McDonald’s, the Berlin wall fell,
the European Union formed, America
entered into three wars in the Middle
East, sheep were cloned, normal people
began to communicate most often
through email and cell phones.

After sixteen years, she had no hope
of surviving off the island, but to be shot,
after all her struggle and bravery,
by an unseen stranger in front
of her newly found daughter,
shows that death knows no justice.

Conclusion

I’ve been thinking about all
the beginnings in life.
The beginning of a day,
week, a year, and
all of the time and beginnings
in between. So many things begin
yet looking back it’s hard to
find the end.

The longer I thought on it the more
confused I got but then it finally came to me.
I now know why finding the end is so hard;
The conclusion has been found.
Every end is just another beginning
that has been built off all the beginnings of the past.

FIN

the last cup
the last sip
the last drop
the last voice
the last note
the last song
the last light
the last page
the last words
the last afternoon
the last stroke of the pen
the last click of the keys
the last kiss of the muse
the last time this month
I wonder whether
I can last to the end
of this challenge

TLS, April 2008


Amazing everyone. I'm gonna miss this. Does it have to end? Can't wait to check back tomorrow and find out.

Thanks to Robert, and to all you wordsmiths, wordlovers, poets and writers. You made it all worthwhile!

TaunaLen

Carol, Very nice!

The End

Goodbye, it is over.
We are at the end
of this chaalenging
expedition.
It matters not
where you jumped in,
like me, in the middle.
But, going back,
filling in the gaps
is what I plan to do.
So that in the end,
thirty poems I will have
just like you.

Sorry- I misspelled challenging. I'm in a hurry to get all my poems entered.

Many thanks to Robt who got me back to writing and everyone who's taken this challenge up. What a great experience.
I just now learned how to send notes to others & Robt through this. I did understand the poetry could be written here.

“Adieu Good Friends”

This writing blog
Has been a hoot
It’s been so fun
Let’s not go mute.

Each day this month
I gave my best
I wrote and wrote
Now time to rest.

A finer group
Has never been
I am honored
From deep within.

Slay the dragon
Embrace the dark
Elusive muse
It’s been a lark.

It’s hard to say
It all right here
But bless you all
Anyone for beer?

The lights go dim
I take my bow
Adieu good friends
Adieu for now.

April 30, 2008
© Michelle H.
(It’s been an honor and pleasure writing with you all! Thank you for sharing! – Michelle)

Elizabeth, I just got hold of a copy of "The Poet's Companion" but I haven't yet started it.

Anyone else interested in this book?

I may be back with something more lyrical-like...or I may just roll across the finish line...LMAO! Be kind...I suffer from AMS...Absent Menstrual Syndrome...could be more dangerous than cats OR snakes!

Why Beloved?

You ask why
doth my hand
cuppeth so?
Why beloved,
it cuppeth so
to caress,
ah yes,
thy cheeks
down below,
sweet cheeks,
thy bottom…
end!

Thank you to everyone for all your great poems. They have been a great inspiration and a fun source of giggles as well. Thank you so much Robert for having the energy and endurance to put together intriguing prompts, review over 100 poems a day for highlights, and write your own poem as well. Today's poem was full of great images and a wonderful ending (no pun intended)

Having a terrible time trying to post this and internet down yesterday (tornadoes?). Robert, thanks for this wonderful opportunity. It was lots of fun and your topics were terrific! It's wonderful to have so many poems to go back and revise, plus I read so much excellent poetry. Salvatore, I love your poem.

Exercise


Watching TV.
Seeing the before and after.
Just 10 weeks can change your life.
Eat right, exercise, get enough sleep.
30 minutes a day of walking.
60 minutes a week of working up a sweat.
30 minutes a week of lifting weights.
The difference, not only on the outside,
But the inside changes as well.
A person can become 10 years younger.
I want to live a long, healthy life.
I commit to this program.
But right now watching it has made me tired.
I’ll begin tomorrow.
---------------------------------
Longing

Standing on the railroad tracks
looking straight ahead,
at some point down the line
they converge to the smallest V,
a tiny dot,
appearing like that’s where they end.
Not so.
Beyond what I comprehend
there is more: more world,
more people, more buildings,
more dreams. Maybe someday
I will travel down those tracks,
surveying all that lies ahead,
understanding what now is
only mystery. The sky is huge blue
and the clouds are puffy white.
Somewhere there are people I have
yet to meet. That I have not
met them makes me sad.

Robert - thank you for the challenge and thank you for the highlights! I write, I try, I hope and this gave me so much confidence. (And is it so wrong that I run to the computer in the mornings to check and see if my poem was picked?!?)

To All - this really can't be over!

Heather - how do you remember stuff like that?!? I wrote that about 4 years ago! Good Lord!

"Inevitable End"

We both know how this
is going to finally come to an end
come to a head; a final, finite finale worthy
of a James Bond flick,
but without the busty chicks
trying and failing to seduce the main
man - not on our time at least,
but we'll be throwing our
all into the mixing pot
and watch it froth and bubble
with all of the contained
hatred and quasi-respect collected
over the last few years.
The pot will erupt with a fanfare
worth the glory of a fourth of July
firecracker spectacular or
Mt. St. Helena's natural spectrum of
fury - either way it will be
glorious like nothing else.

One of us will end up dead,
dying, defeated but I cannot
say that I care enough to do
anything to prevent such a thing
from occurring. The end will not be
the end forever as death holds nothing
more than an opportunity to oppressively
weigh on your psyche, and that is an end that
I can truly look forward to,
but please,
let's just take this slowly
and let it build up eventually
because neither of us want to go
too prematurely.

The End of the Night

When the sun rises
and pokes you in the eye.

When the cat arches its back
and kneeds its claws on your bare leg.

When the dog races outside to chase the birds
twittering in the branches of the old maple.

When the alarm rings and you pull
the pillow over your head.

When the drifting aroma of
French Roast entices you.

The end of the night,
the start of the day.

Either End

Beginnings and Endings
Are hard to write
How to tease
The reader's interest
So that they will
Read the rest
Of your hard won words.

And finally
When they've come this far
How to write the last
Chapter
So that they leave
Well satisfied
And thank you for
The lovely ride.

And here I sit
Staring at the screen
In full mindlock
Typing and deleting
Because I want to end
With words well said
But I guess this is
As good as it gets

SaraV,
Love your poem. This is how I feel right now while I am writing my new novel. Couldn't have said it better.

To all,
great words today.. I hope to see you all somewhere in cyperspace.
Debra

Not all work
is unpleasant
especially when
it pushes us
me and you
to a goal
we might
have reached

it has been
great joy
and hard work
which is what
we are told
anything worth
doing is

sometimes
the end
is not
the end

Lovely poem, Margaret. I'm so glad "The Poet's Companion" is now findable. They must have rereleased it last year (that would be the 10-year anniversary of the book), which is when I located a newly published copy. It looks like a wonderful way to keep writing and to challenge oneself as a poet. There are plenty of prompts in there, by the way, folks....

The End

"Parting is such sweet sorrow."
(who said that anyway...)
and so we end, until tomorrow;
when Robert grinds his teeth to knives
and gets his whip and chair besides!
What evil fate awaits us with the day
as we approach the first of May?

BLAHAHAHAHAHA (Robert's evil laugh of delight. He probably wants us to rewrite all of our poems as sestinas!)

;-)

Margaret, I like your imagery in your poem "The End of the Night".

This isn't the end
It's the beginning
The beginning of our next obsession
The beginning of our next love
The beginning of a new dream
The beginning of disappointment, creeping.
We start afresh to days' new challenges
Inspired by this road's last turn
And while we sigh upon this sunset
A bright new dawn stealthily approaches with
promises yet to be made.