Drove up from Georgia to Ohio last night, so I'm writing on 3 hours sleep this morning. Hopefully, I'll write something that makes at least a little sense. Then again, since yesterday's poem was titled "Dream," maybe it's better if I don't.

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "And then (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make that the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Some example titles could be: "And then Godzilla attacked Tokyo," "And then McDonald's opened a store on the moon," "And then nothing," "And then everything," "And then you probably have an even better idea for a poem title," etc.

Here's my attempt for today:

"And then he fell down"

A fog is another kind of ghost;
its breath presses the earth
and asks forgiveness before
the sun wishes it away. Our
dreams are clouds are ghosts
swimming across lakes we
imagined could drown us.

We find him French-kissing
under water; we find him
in love with our daughters;
we arrive with just enough
time to wave them off and
wonder if and wonder if
as if it could have been us.

*****

Want to be a writing VIP? Click here to find out how. File this under Best Deal Ever.

After today's poem, we'll be 60% of the way through November. I can't believe how fast this month is moving. I've been dropping in and reading poems in the comments, and I'm looking forward to reading your chapbook manuscripts after this challenge is over. (Also, thanks for the kind words about my prompts and poems this month. Much appreciated.)

For today's prompt, I want you to write a slow poem. (If you want you can re-read that sentence in your best "slow motion" voice.) I'll let you decide what a slow poem should be.

Here's my attempt for today:

"Let us not go then, you and I"

Maybe we can feel the world turn
or watch the universe burn. We
could find the star giving the most

light as our hot sun sets the moon
on fire tonight. Shooting stars are
just meteoroids burning up

in the mesosphere; so keep your
fire near, dear, and we'll just stay here--
both burning so bright and so clear.

*****

Learn from the instructors at the Vermont College MFA Program in Words Overflown by Stars, edited by David Jauss. Click here to read more about this and other writing titles.

Sigh. Tuesday morning, and we've already had connectivity issues and a Turkish hacker (going by the handle Cyb3rking). But poetry is a powerful force that keeps on keeping on despite wind, rain, sleet, junk mail, global warming, asteroids, infomercials, etc.

As mentioned above, today is Tuesday, which means we've got a "Two for Tuesday" offering. Remember: With "Two for Tuesday" prompts, you can write to either one or both (or none, if that's how you roll). Here are the two prompts:

1. Write an explosion poem.

2. Write an implosion poem.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Black holes"

How they happen: A giant star
explodes. The explosion is called
supernova, which scatters most
of the star across outerspace
and leaves behind a dead remnant.

How they work: Alive, nuclear
fusion a giant star creates
balances the inward pull caused
by the gravity of its mass.
A giant dead remnant creates
no counter balance. It just sucks
so hard that even light cannot
escape, though only if objects
pass a point of no return called
darkly the event horizon.

Why they matter: Black holes cannot
be observed from the outside, so
we can only know they exist
by how they consume the burning
light produced by other objects.

*****

Want to get metrical for less than $7? Click here to learn more about Writing Metrical Poetry, by William Baer.

Oh yeah! We're more than half-way to the finish line; kind of hard to believe, eh?

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "Clouds (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make that the title of your poem, and write the poem. Some examples: "Clouds float," "Clouds rain," "Clouds don't exist," "Clouds block my sunshine," "Clouds are cool," etc.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Clouds that don't bother to rain"

They hover over us and save
themselves for somewhere else.

We watch them pass like ghosts
searching for a better place to

haunt. We want nothing better
for our time than to see clouds

float to the horizon, followed
close by everything ever after.  

*****

Looking for poetic inspiration and instruction throughout the year? Look no further than Sage Cohen's Writing the Life Poetic. Click here to learn more about this and other writing titles today.

Sorry for the late start this morning. I was enjoying a rare chance to wake up and have breakfast with the family unit. Weekends only come once a week, you know.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem involving lines. There are several possible lines you could write about: shopping lines, pick-up lines, lines from movies or songs, lines drawn in the sand, lines that should not be crossed (physically or emotionally), and so on. If all else fails, remember: All poems consist of lines.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Fire lines"

If only the fire burned slower;
if only we weren't surrounded;
if only we weren't all about
consuming and being consumed,

maybe then, baby, we'd gather
the earth around us and push back;
maybe then we'd try slowing down;
maybe then we would be content

to circle this fire, both arm's length
apart, and watch it fail to jump
the line, watch it with abandoned
abandon as it slowly died.

*****

Want to boost your creativity with helpful prompts and useful tips? Click here to check out The Pocket Muse, by Monica Wood.

It's Friday the 13th! For whatever reason, weird stuff always seems to happen to me on these days; I hope today is an exception--unless, for once, it's a good weird thing.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a renewable poem. I suppose you could write about renewable energy or renewable books (from the library). But there are other ways to come at this, too. Vows are renewable, as are promises and oaths. In fact, if you think about it long enough, it's hard to think of things that aren't renewable. Now, get writing.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Phoenix"

She stands beside the fire with her
smile wired to the shadows licking
her face. He's not sure how to read
what she wants, so he doesn't try.

Instead, he walks over and pulls
her close. Enough with the guessing,
he thinks before leaning to kiss
those lips, cracking open with heat.

*****

Want to learn how to write better poetry in an online workshop environment? Click here to find out how.

Quick Note: Please refrain from posting multiple previously written (old) poems in the comments. While I'm fine with 6 brand new poems, posting several old poems is kind of not in the spirit of creating. Of course, it is fine to post an older poem every so often, but let's avoid an avalanche of previously written material. Anyone with Internet access can start a personal blog for free and do that kind of thing there.

*****

So yeah, we're 12 days into the challenge, which means we're 40% of the way through it. Feels like we just started, but here we are with 12 (or more) poems.

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "If only (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make that the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Example titles might be "If only we remembered our umbrellas," "If only the train came on time," or "If only, if only." The possibilities are endless.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"If only we lived in Kansas"

Holes worn into the knees of her blue jeans,
she walks around with a buckeye-filled shoe
and, with her hair pulled back, says, "We come here
once a year to collect these and throw them
at my uncle." She hands me an empty
shoe and walks away bare-footed. I walk
around the buckeye tree, but there are no
nuts to be found. Then, a boy approaches
with a stick, which he throws into the leaves.
Down fall several buckeyes. The boy scoops
them up and runs off, leaving his stick, which
I throw into the leaves making buckeyes
fall. I throw the stick again and again
and again thinking of how proud she'll be
with a thousand buckeye-filled shoes, thinking
of how her uncle will really get it
this year, thinking this is love. When the ground
around the tree is completely covered,
I realize that I have buried her shoe.

Over the weekend, I purchased a copy of The Best American Poetry 2009, edited by David Lehman and David Wagoner. This has turned into an annual tradition, because the anthology brings together 75 poems (usually by 75 poets) by new-to-me poets and some familiar favorites. The 2009 edition actually includes two poets who've been interviewed on Poetic Asides: Denise Duhamel for "How It Will End" and Martha Silano for "Love." (Click here to read the Duhamel interview; click here to read the Silano interview.)

*****

Today is Tuesday, so it's a Two for Tuesday prompt! Here are your two options:

1. Write a love poem.
2. Write an anti-love poem.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Front porch, windows for kitchen"

Something as simple as leaving the couch
to answer the phone. He feels his vision
closing, his body tightening. He sits
down in a pool of darkness, a shallow
dream. Everywhere, voices are searching.

Leaving the company of people is
disconcerting. She discerns a nothing
in his eyes, so she looks into them and
talks. She breathes her life into his mouth and 
knows this is the moment she always feared.

What would happen if they found their dream house,
but it was engulfed in flames? Would they try
to put it out? Would they ring all the bells
in town for help? Or would they hold their hands
together tight and watch the damn thing burn?

Remember: If you want an easy way to communicate about the November PAD Chapbook Challenge, you can join the #novpad discussion on Twitter. (And if you're not already, you can follow me @robertleebrewer.)

*****

For today's prompt, I want you to write a slippery poem. The subject can be about something slippery (snake, soap, etc.), or the poem itself can deal with a slippery subject (I'm thinking big concepts like that have words ending in -ism might fit the definition of a slippery subject). If in doubt, just write.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"notveryreadableforhumans"

Do not use the words crash or burn
at the airport. If I could, I would
make every kiss her kiss. On the clouds
below, a golden halo forms around
the shadow of our airplane. Our shadows
slide across the pavement. Our brains
are targets for marketing departments.

I'm not sure if she thinks about me
when I'm a mile above the earth
or wondering how long until we land.

Now, when my heart skips a beat,
I'm not sure if it's love or a signal
to call the doctor. Maybe the doctor
can tell me if it's love or something else.

Over by the buckeye tree, I watch
them all crash and burn. The teens
who live here slide in together. They
just don't know any better. I made
the same mistakes they will. Somewhere
below, a door creaks open. Somewhere
above, I slide through the stratosphere
and think about the way she kisses.

The heavy silence of early morning
when the sun rises whether I'm ready
or not. Anything new is a fear; we
are number one for take off. We
hope we won't crash and burn.

After finishing today's poem, we'll be a full week through the challenge! Can you feel what I feel? That's right, it's progress!

For today's prompt, I want you to pick a plant (any plant), make that the title of your poem, and write a poem. Pretty simple. (Or is it?) Most people, including myself, immediately think of plants as organic creatures, but, of course, "plants" can also be places of employment or spies or...as you can see, there's always room for breaking outside the lines.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Dionaea Muscipula"

Or more commonly, Venus Flytrap,
named for the Roman goddess of love:

This small carnivorous plant catches
animal prey that trips the bulb-like

trap. Each plant has four to seven leaves;
if it appears to have more, this is

a colony formed by rosettes split
underground. Found in nitrogen-poor

environments, the Venus Flytrap
tolerates fire well. In fact, Venus

depends on periodic burning
for its very survival. And rest.

Without a period of winter
dormancy, Venus Flytraps weaken

and die. Plants that find favorable
living conditions will live twenty

to thirty years resting and burning.
 

Wow! We're already 20% of the way through this here challenge. Those who are behind or just getting started still have plenty of time to catch up, and those who've been keeping up can feel pretty good about the progress they've already made. And it's Friday! Yay!

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem with (or about) someone (or something) covered. A person could be covered with a blanket or blanketed with darkness. Something could be covered by water or earth or anything you can think, I guess. Or you could write a poem about how you "have it covered," I suppose.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Running it into the ground"

Saying it doesn't mean you mean it,
but if you mean it, you should say it,
and say it like you mean it, even if
you're not sure what you should say
or how to say it so that she knows
you really mean it, because she will
either believe that you mean it when
you say it or she won't, or she won't
know how to let you know that she
believes you mean it when you say it
like you mean it, because she's not
used to having someone say it like
he means it and really means it, so do
not let intent (yours or hers) hold you
back from saying what you mean when
you really mean it, because you really
could be damned if you do and damned
if you don't, but you won't really know
where you stand unless you mean it.

*****

If you want to discuss this prompt or poem, or just want to communicate with other poets throughout the month of November, go to Twitter.com and search on the hashtag #novpad. (And be sure to follow my Tweets from my handle @robertleebrewer.)

*****

If you want a resource to help you publish your poems after the month of November is over, then you should check out the 2010 Poet's Market (also known as the best Poet's Market ever). Click here to learn more.

Over on Twitter, @taunalen created a hashtag for everyone to communicate about the November PAD Chapbook Challenge easily. The hashtag is #novpad. Just use the search box on the right-hand side of the Twitter application and search for novpad and you can participate in an ongoing conversation that might even go into January (as everyone revises and organizes their actual chapbook manuscripts). Use the hashtag to share comments/critiques of posted poems, links to your November PAD Chapbook Challenge poems on your personal blogs, revision tips, and whatever else springs to mind. 

Also, if you're on Twitter and not following me yet, you can do so by finding me @robertleebrewer.

*****

For today's prompt, I want you to write a growth poem. This could be psychological or emotional growth, physical growth, or however you'd like to take it. Maybe your poem is about growing hair or growing hungry or growing impatient or...

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Don't grow old on me"

I was frightened to think I could
ever die, that I would die. Would
you look for me if I were lost? I'm
at the place where you got your
bike. Push throw to catch. Go back.
Two, one. It's in a building. And it's
somebody's. But you have to teach
it to fly. Look what I got. That's what
I have. In the middle of battle, they
can evolve. They can all evolve. But
it takes awhile. At the town right
before, you finally held my hand.

Everyone's doing a great job so far! I'm already getting excited to see what kind of manuscripts will be trickling in during December and January.

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "Maybe (blank)," replace the (blank) with a word or phrase, and write a poem using that new phrase as your title. Some example titles: "Maybe we really did need a bigger boat," "Maybe next time you'll listen to me," "Maybe never," "Maybe baby," and so on.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Maybe my pulse"

A plane passes low
so that I wonder if
it will clear the trees.

Seriously, an asteroid
could be headed
for me right now.

The very next car
that runs a red light
may find me walking

across the street,
my feet heavy
with wondering how

and when I will go.
But it doesn't matter
as long as she is there

to lean over me, breathe
into me, and coax me
out of the darkness.

Well, I finally have Internet access again today. What a rough start to the challenge! On a positive note, I'm glad Brian was helping out, because he's the WritersDigest.com editor and was able to get everything working faster on Day 1 as a result. Just some super duper bad timing. Ugh!

*****

Today is a Tuesday, which means it's a "Two for Tuesday" prompt day. You can choose your favorite prompt; you can write one poem for each prompt; and/or you can blend the two prompts together. Your choice.

Prompt #1: Write a positive poem. Like how great writing a poem a day through November is.

Prompt #2: Write a negative poem. Like how un-great technological hiccups in November are.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Negative Option"

Beyond this stream is a tree
in which she hides, ringing her bell
softly and waiting for the man
who wears wings and who she
wishes to surrender herself, but

he wanders inside a cave, feeling
his way along the stone walls, praising
the echo of his own footsteps and
the scraping of his wings. Meanwhile,

she waits and waits and knows
that no one will ever die and stay
dead. Of this, she is positive.

*****

Want to talk poetry today? Every Tuesday, we have a poetic discussion on Twitter, using the hashtag #poettues. If you use Twitter, be sure to friend me @robertleebrewer and join the conversation (or follow along silently). See you there!

First off, the November PAD Chapbook Challenge is all about the fun and poeming! During the month of November, don't worry so much about finished drafts; just get the rough drafts cranked out each day. After all, you've got December (and the rest of your life, for that matter) to edit.

That said, let's bring on the bulleted list:

• You do NOT have to register anywhere to participate in the challenge. (Though if you want updates from the blog each day, you can sign up for an e-mail update or via RSS in the upper left-hand corner over there.)
• The Challenge will begin sometime on the morning of November 1 (Eastern Time U.S.). The time can vary, but don't worry if your day is ending as this blog's is beginning, because...
• The Challenge will continue until noon (Eastern Time U.S.) on December 1.
• Beginning December 1, all participants will have the month of December to revise and organize their November poems into manuscripts of 10-20 pages (no more than one poem per page, though it's okay to have one poem that runs for multiple pages).
• By midnight January 5, 2010, poets will need to e-mail their manuscripts (saved as either .doc or .txt) to me at robert.brewer@fwmedia.com with the subject line: My 2009 November PAD Chapbook MS
• Poets do not have to post their poems to the blog to participate, BUT it's a lot more fun for everyone if you do. (And remember: This is all about fun and poeming, yo!)
• I'll go through the manuscripts with the assistance of my wife, Tammy Foster Brewer (who's actually had two chapbooks published now, so she's kinda like an expert), and we'll announce a winner on Groundhog Day 2010.

There may be other rules, details, etc., which I've somehow overlooked, added later, but this gives a pretty good idea of what to expect. Can't wait to see everyone on Sunday morning!

There will be no more Wednesday Poetry Prompts until December, because we're only days away from starting the 2nd annual November PAD Chapbook Challenge! That means a prompt and poem each day of November! So, I thought today might be good for a tune up or exorcism.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a bad poem. Take bad in any direction you want, but for me, I'm going to try to just write a horrible poem. (This where the hecklers can shout out, "Why try when it comes natural?") Anyway, let's get bad!

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Poem"

When I get really blue
or say "aaaaa-choo!"
or play the fool,
I think of you,

sweet, sweet linebreaking,
image making,
love forsaking

document.
What I meant
or what I want to vent
is not as important
as how the words are bent

or interpreted.
My heart beats red;
rhymes roll from my head;
I write what I should've said;
and I hope sweet poem you will never ever be dead.

...could you send me an e-mail with the subject line: Trouble Commenting on Poetic Asides

In your e-mail, could you provide the following information:

• What kind of computer you're using
• What browser you're using
• Which version of that browser
• What operating system you use
• Any other computer-Internet information

We're going to see if there are any patterns that develop and/or if there's any way to fix.

My e-mail is robert.brewer@fwmedia.com

Thanks so much!

It doesn't feel like it's been a year since the last November PAD Chapbook Challenge began, but I suppose we're almost there. (Click here to read about the 2009 November PAD Chapbook Challenge.)

To get everyone in the November PAD Chapbook Challenge mood, I thought I'd interview the 2008 winner: Shann Palmer. Her 11-poem collection, Change, was chosen by Tammy and I from more than 50 chapbook submissions.

Here's a personal favorite of mine:

Patience

There must be a place
where old men wait
for wives to be ready
to couple and uncouple,

give foot rubs after
they shop for couches,
remember to buy bulbs
for living room lamps.

Bearded men who regret
haste having discovered
the wisdom of a light touch,
a dark room, a cool breeze.

A mountain understands,
endures what nature brings.

*****

What have you been up to the past year?

This year I read at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts "Art After Hours" program, a real honor. In April, I participated in the National Poetry Month Pledge Drive for the American Academy of Poets and was one of two national winners--they sent a box stuffed with books, CDs, doodads, and flair! Published in Shakespeare's Monkey Review, the Twitter poets issue of Ocho, a poem in a new chapbook out by the Private Press coming soon. In July, I attended the Writers Workshop at West Virginia University (my sixth time) workshopping with poet Shara McCallum. Somewhere in between we've been repairing/redoing our kitchen and bathroom (like my poems, yet undone).

On November 13, I have a poetry reading with local SlamRichmond champ Tom Prunier called "Big Man, Little Woman" at art6 Gallery where I run regular readings and local art events for poets. I also play piano for a local musical improv group, Iprov--we have a festival performance on November 7. Plus all the regular life and job stuff!

What were you expecting to get out of the November PAD Challenge last year? And did you get it?

I always expect to create a group of poems to refine and hopefully, publish. If five out of thirty find a home, I'm pleased. Writing is a skill, like piano playing or composition--you have to constantly work at the craft so when the perfect motif pops into your head, you can assemble the best words (in the right order). To have my collection picked as winner was very gratifying. I'd say this was my most successful attempt! (I also PADded in April and July).

You self-published your collection Change as a chapbook. What appeals to you about self-publishing your poetry?

Self-publishing is immediate, I've been making chapbooks for myself and friends since 1997. At readings, people seem to always ask for a copy of certain poems, by doing small chapbooks, I can easily provide a copy. I suspect it also makes me lazy, since I continue doing small books instead of compiling a larger collection to submit. Not having a 'real' book probably prevents me from being asked to read or panel at some literary events.

Also, I've had the good fortune to check out some of your other self-published pieces, such as A Little Bag of Love (a little bag with love poems inside) and Poems from the apron pocket (a small chapbook made from a single, multi-folded piece of paper). Both are inventive ways to package poetry. How do you go about distributing these poems?

So many ways! I stick them in between poetry books at bookstores, leave them in coffee shops, hand them out at readings, sell them at art galleries, give them as gifts, teach workshops on how to make them, hand them to strangers on the street, send them to friends in letters and cards. I thought about stapling them to telephone poles but I'm pretty sure it's against the law in Richmond.

What do you feel makes a great collection of poetry?

Compelling poems. Great stories. Details that draw me in even when I don't have a reason to read on. Poems that don't tell me everything, give me room to bring my experiences to the page as I read. Themed collections are not my favorites--though Colosseum by Katie Ford (this years VCU Levis prize winner) is excellent. I prefer the loosely organized work of Tony Hoagland; he's my favorite poet.

Do you have any advice for poets taking on the Poetic Asides November PAD Chapbook Challenge?

Write about anything, keep it simple, don't worry if you think it's awful. These poems should be considered drafts, not finished. I've written some of my worst and best poems during challenges, the rewrite, rethinking process is where the magic happens. Most of all, don't sweat it--the poetry police will not come to your door if you miss a day--it's your words in the end that matter.

That's right! We're still getting April sorted out, but the 2nd annual November PAD Chapbook Challenge is just around the corner. Every day in November, I'll post a prompt and poem. If you want, you can join in the fun, too.

At the end of November, each poet should have 30 (or more) poem rough drafts. During the month of December, you can edit, revise and organize a manuscript of 10-20 pages of poetry (no more than one poem per page) that you'll submit by January 2, 2010.

Then, Tammy and I will go through the manuscripts and select a winner, which will be announced on February 2--along with a handful of honorable mentions.

I'm not sure what the prizes involved with the challenge may or may not be, but it's more about the challenge of writing a poem a day in November and getting a chapbook manuscript together. I know I'm getting excited thinking about it.

More details will be on the way, but I just want everyone to start preparing and getting psyched up for the challenge now!

As we get ever closer to announcing the completionists and Top 50 poems of the 2009 April PAD Challenge, I wanted to at least share some great news about one honor that's been officially decided: Marie-Elizabeth Mali has been named the 2009 Poetic Asides Poet Laureate!

Not only did Marie-Elizabeth help screen poems for two days of the challenge (and volunteered to do even more), but she also made the first cut of many other screening judges. So, she's not only a great friend and help to the poetry community, but she also has excellent writing skills.

This year's challenge produced some truly amazing work. As my wife Tammy can verify, there were days where I had to cut 20 or more great poems down to five. And these are early drafts--so the talent of this group just continually amazes me!

More April PAD Challenge updates are coming soonish, but in the meantime, please congratulate Marie-Elizabeth on her wonderful accomplishment.

I'm not going to share her poems just yet on the blog--just to try and keep her poems anonymous for any guest judges who read this blog, but you can hunt for some on the blog by viewing the Poetry Challenge 2009 category posts.

*****

In the meantime, do you have any nominations for other award categories, including who you think is most deserving of the award?

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "I think (blank)" and fill in the blank with a word or phrase. Make this the title of your poem for today. Then, write the poem.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"I think the world is a pin cushion"

There's a space between everyday matters
that makes someone feel every day matters,
a breath or sigh in the darkness. We surround
our time with excuses and distractions, bind
those we love with commitments when we
should be splashing in puddles while the rain
covers us in nothing more than what it is.

*****

Thanks to the Kind Over Matter blog, which has posted my attempt for the day on their weekly Wednesday poetry feature. Click here to check out the poem with an accompanying (and appropriate) image. (Thanks to Amanda Oaks at Verve Bath Press!)

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE
• For 2010 Poet's Market, CLICK HERE

We had our 2nd weekly poetry conversation on Twitter today. Find it by searching for #poettues at Twitter.com.

Here are some of the highlights today:

I started off by asking: So, what's everyone's goals as a poet? Trying to get published? Write better poems? Notice the world around you? Something else?

Then, I added that, "For me, I've just always liked playing around with patterns and combinations, whether it involves numbers or letters," and, "Writing poetry is also a way of entertaining myself. Like making up music videos in my head or singing songs about whatever."

@Janet45 said, "There's something spiritual about poetry for me, a way of connecting with stillness, of going inside. It can be playful too."

@rebunting said, "Goals: fame & fortune! But really, I'm not going to lie - publication is a goal. Definitely," as well as, "Writing poetry also is a way of reducing the boil of soup in my head to a slow simmer."

@nivermoore said, "I like playing around with sounds, finding the right vowels in the right words to convey the feeling/image/subject."

And many more poets shared their goals. In this way, we all began to talking with each other and branching out into various directions.

For instance, I was really into making T-shirts today: "We should make T-shirts that read: Yes, Publication!" and "That's the next T-shirt idea: Serious la-la-la-la-la," which'll make sense in a moment, because...

We talked about making writing stick and making it important. My quote: "I love sinking into the writing, but I also love skipping along and singing la-la-la-la-la. Combine both, and I'm hooked."

Strategies for overcoming writer's block were tossed around, including listening to music, mind-mapping, reading, etc. @renkath had some great Tweets throughout the poetic discussion, but I especially liked this one: "I put myself under too much pressure and am hypercritical. That kills the muse. Then she starts to stink up the house."

Poetic forms were shared and discussed with @auntieflamingo introducing me to Scifaiku. Check out www.scifaiku.com.

We talked about how the valuation of poetry and writing has ruined (or contributed to the ruination) several relationships and marriages. We recommended poems, poets, journals, contests, writing groups, revision tips, and so much more. It's really a blast, and we do it basically as long as everyone's willing to talk shop. So, feel free to show up next week and talk poetry at Twitter.

Use and/or search for the hashtag #poettues, and if you're not following me on Twitter yet, I go by the handle: @robertleebrewer

We had a fun poetry discussion on Twitter yesterday. It went so well that I think we'll continue meeting on Tuesdays. If you want to find what was said, just go to Twitter and search for #poettues. Today's prompt was actually inspired during the conversation (thanks to @martinjason and @ronbaker).

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about finding something that doesn't belong where it is. The examples from the discussion were to find a collection of Pablo Neruda poetry in the children's section of a library with the counter-example of finding a children's book in the poetry section. Pure chaos! (By the way, I don't know if I belong on Twitter or not, but you can find me at @robertleebrewer).

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Note found beneath the wiper blade"

This is your last chance. If you don't
come to me today and confess
you were wrong, I'm on the first plane
back to Hawaii. If you won't
have me, the volcano gods will.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE
• For 2010 Poet's Market, CLICK HERE

Let's start assembling on Tuesdays at Twitter to discuss poetry. I'll probably roll onto the site around 10 or so in the morning ATL time, but y'all can get started before or after that.

If you're not a follower on Twitter, find me at @robertleebrewer.

If you don't have a Twitter account, it's free and only takes a minute or so.

We'll use the hashtag, #poettues on all of our Tweets. That means, you can use the search box on the right-hand side of the page to search on "poettues" to see the conversation as it's happening.

I figure we'll try this out throughout October. If it catches on, we'll continue doing Poetry Tuesdays every week into infinity. If it doesn't, we'll always have October of 2009.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE
• For 2010 Poet's Market, CLICK HERE

Okay, I've been meaning to cover this poetic form since like March, but yadda-yadda-yadda here we are getting ready for October. The sevenling was created by Roddy Lumsden, but it was J.P. Dancing Bear who turned me on to the form earlier this year around the time I interviewed him for the blog. (Click here to read the interview with J.P. Dancing Bear.)

So, here are the rules on the sevenling:

• The sevenling is a 7-line poem (clever, huh?) split into three stanzas.
• The first three lines should contain an element of three. It could be three connected or contrasting statements, a list of three details or names, or something else along these lines. The three things can take up all three lines or be contained anywhere within the stanza.
• The second three lines should also contain an element of three. Same deal as the first stanza, but the two stanzas do not need to relate to each other directly.
• The final line/stanza should act as either narrative summary, punchline, or unusual juxtaposition.
• Titles are not required. But when titles are present, they should be titled Sevenling followed by the first few words in parentheses.
• Tone should be mysterious, offbeat or disturbing.
• Poem should have ambience which invites guesswork from the reader.

That said, here's my attempt at one:

Sevenling (The signs all pointed)

The signs all pointed in one direction--
SLOW CHILDREN AT PLAY, CARS IN THIS LANE
KEEP MOVING, and HIDDEN DRIVE--

unless they pointed in the other direction--
EMPLOYEES MUST WASH THEIR HANDS BEFORE
RETURNING TO WORK, CASH ONLY, and NO SOLICITING--

but few people bothered to read them anyway.

*****

To learn even more about sevenlings, including examples by Roddy Lumsden, CLICK HERE.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE
• For 2010 Poet's Market, CLICK HERE

Getting ready to head up to Ohio for the week, but I just wanted to share the news of Patricia Fargnoli's most recent collection released earlier this month: Then, Something (Tupelo Press).

Fargnoli was interviewed on Poetic Asides back in March. Click here to read the interview.

Anyway, her latest collection is wonderful. Here's one of my favorite poems:

On the Question of the Soul

It is not iron, nor does it have anything to do
with the fleshy heart. It does not shiver

like feathers nor the arrow shot from the hunter's bow,
is not the deer that runs or falls in the snow.

It hunkers down in the invisible recesses
of the body--its closets, scrolled bureaus,
the ivory hardness of the chest,

or disperses through every cell. And also it flies
out beyond the body.

Someday watch smoke travel through the air.
Someday watch a stain spread out to no stain
in the ocean. The soul does that.

It doesn't care whether or not you believe in it.
It is unassailable and contradictory: the dog
that comes barking and wagging its tail.

It is not, I am certain, biology.
Not a cardinal or a heron, not even a thrush or wren,
but it might be a praying mantis.

It is the no color of rain
as it sweeps a field on an August morning
full of fences and wildflowers.

It is the shifting of light across the surface
of any lake, the shadows that move like muskrats
across a mountain whose shape mimics the clouds above.

Weighed down by the vested interests
of the body, it nevertheless bears us forward.

*****

Anyway, I just wanted to share.

As some of you may have heard, Atlanta was hit with some massive rain at the beginning of the week (after a lot of rain last week) that caused some record flooding throughout the area. Bridges washed out, Interstates more than 6 feet below water, and some fatalities. Luckily, our family is fine; Reese even got two days of no school.

For this week's prompt, I want you to write a disaster poem. It can be large or small in scope. It can be a natural disaster like the flooding or a man-made disaster--or even a disaster caused by aliens or something.

Here's my attempt:

"Mud Flood of Doom"

Reese stands on the window sill and
peers over the ledge. "I've never
seen a flood before," he tells me.

Somewhere between here and her work,
Tammy is merging to the left,
because the right lanes are flooded.

On the TV, the reporters
have never seen anything like
this before, say, hundred-year flood.

Will rocks in his swing and listens
to the rain pelt the windows, pound
the earth, searching for a river.

When I moved to Atlanta, they
were experiencing the worst
drought ever; now they'll feel the flood.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE
• For 2010 Poet's Market, CLICK HERE
• For Writer's Digest Conference coverage, CLICK HERE

...then follow the action live on our first ever Writer's Digest Conference blog at http://writersdigestconference.blogspot.com. I'll actually kick off the blogging around 4 p.m. or so (NYC time) with the Opening Address. And other Writer's Digest editors will be helping document the event, too. It won't be as good as being there, but it should still be pretty sweet.

Also, if you're in the NYC area Friday night (9/18), then head over to the Bowery Poetry Club around 8 p.m. and meet me at the first ever Writer's Digest Poetry Slam. It is a FREE event (open to the public); so c'mon by and say, "Hi." For directions to the Bowery Poetry Club, check out their website at http://www.bowerypoetry.com/.

And it's still not too late to register for the Writer's Digest Writer's Conference, and I believe you can even sign up for individual days. For more information, go to http://www.writersdigestconference.com/GeneralMenu.

But yeah, if you're not able to get out there, check out the blog; there should be lots of great bits and pieces offered up throughout the weekend and into the beginning of next week.

It was a dark and stormy night. Actually, it is a dark and stormy night. Earlier, it was a dark and stormy day. Stormy enough to knock out the electricity when I was half-way through typing up today's prompt. Believe me, I realize the irony of the situation. In a moment, I'm sure you'll recognize the irony, too.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about starting over. Think of a situation in which you could hit a re-start button involving yourself, some one (or thing) else, an idea, etc. As with all these prompts, I'm sure there are several different paths we can follow.

With my fingers crossed that the power won't go out again, here's my attempt for the day:

"Finding patterns"

In the year of the days, the monsters
are attacking themselves and everything
that crosses their paths. Those monsters
are blinded when the flashlights dance
into corners frequented by spiders. Poor
Stacy isn't sure what will happen next:

She's already been clubbed by a troll and
trampled by an army of zombies. Once, a car
ran her over while she crossed the street.
Reese includes her in his stories--with her
always by his side--but he denies he likes
her. Easier to throw Stacy under a bus.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE
• For 2010 Poet's Market, CLICK HERE

Wow! Today is 09/09/09. As someone who got married on 08/08/08 (at 8:08--in the p.m.--no less), I can totally appreciate the effect of numbers in the writing of others. After all, numbers and letters are basically the same thing: symbols representing something else.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem that incorporates numbers in some fashion. The title could be a number. The end word for each line could be a number (maybe even a counting sestina?). There are a number of ways you could come at this one.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Counting"

Reese is five years old;
Jonah is six. Benjamin
is eight, and Will is, too,
though he's still in months.

I turned 31 earlier
this year, but I have no
idea how old my grandmother
is. She may not even know.

We visited her and grandpa
today, and she asked me
six times if I had seen
dad's new house. His last

move was more than 10
years ago. She disappeared
into the house one minute
after grandpa got everyone

drinks before reappearing
with four pops. Grandpa
smiled and had her sit down
while he took them back inside.

Left alone with her, there
was little left for us to say.
The sun shining and a nice
breeze, we both just smiled.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE
• For 2010 Poet's Market, CLICK HERE

Earlier this week, I was asked a pretty ridiculous question: How many poetry submissions (or poems) get rejected by American poetry journals (per year)?

It's not so ridiculous, I suppose, if you're just guesstimating an approximation. But then, the person (I'll let him remain anonymous) went on to ask if I can forward him to a resource that knows the answer if I do not. (And, by the way, he's already consulted poets.org, pw.org, The NY Public Library, and the Library of Congress.)

I'm not surprised he wasn't able to find an answer, because any answer he could have received would've been completely and utterly bogus.

To determine a specific number would require:

1. Knowing every journal (big and small press) that receives poetry submissions each year.
2. Knowing how many submissions (or poems) are rejected by each journal.

The first part is a lot more difficult than it seems. Even the best directories, do not list every small press journal on the market. Are there 500 literary journals accepting poetry submissions? Are there 5,000? Do high school and college publications count? Where is the line drawn exactly if you want an exact number?

The second part is even harder to figure out. Most editors don't even know how many submissions (or poems) they reject a year. They give approximations like, "We only accept less than 1% of what's submitted," or, "We reject 500 poems every poem we publish." If a journal can't even give you a specific number, how can you give an accurate (or near accurate) answer?

Bottom line: You can't.

More than a million poems are likely rejected each year by American poetry journals. I'm not sure what the point of getting any more specific would accomplish. In fact, I'm not sure why a general knowledge even matters. At the end of the day, it's just another silly, ridiculous statistic.

Poets will continue to write and submit their poetry despite the odds. And I think that's exactly how it should be.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE
• For 2010 Poet's Market, CLICK HERE

For most of my life, I've encountered complete strangers who've taken the liberty of shortening my name from Robert to Bob or Rob or Bo or even Bill (click here if you're interested in reading me rant about the subject on my personal blog). Another common mistake is to mispronounce my last name as "Brower" instead of as "Brewer." I know most people encounter this phenomenon of mislabeling regularly, whether it's their name or something related to their work or hobbies, etc.

For this week's prompt, I want you to write a poem that deals with some form of mislabeling. The poem could deal with getting someone's name wrong, slight mistakes on signage, etc. I'm really interested in seeing how "out there" this prompt might get.

Here's my attempt:

"My Name Is Not Bob"

Or Rob or Bo or Robby
or Bobby. I don't go by Bill
or Bert. I won't answer to Mr. Brewer
or Lee, though those are better than Mr. Brower
or Leah. No, I really just prefer Robert
or Robert Lee or Robert Brewer
or Robert Lee Brewer.
Or "Hey, you."

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE

(Sorry for the late prompt today. The day job has required a lot of my immediate attention--like 14 hours yesterday and another 9 already today--so I'll go out on a limb and predict that the Poetry Workshop will not happen tomorrow and possibly not even next week. However, I do have some great news: We received copies of Tammy's 2nd chapbook today, No Glass Allowed, published by Amanda Oaks at verve bath press.)

For today's poem, I want you to write a mistake poem. That is, I want you to write a poem about a mistake you've made, someone else has made, or even what can happen (or has happened) as a result of a mistake. How do mistakes affect people? The environment? Etc.? There are a lot of ways you can attack this prompt.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Albuquerque"

He should've taken a left he tells her,
and she smiles. She didn't expect to find
him or this coffee shop today. "I was
just following my feet," she says, "and they
led me here." "Where are they headed next,"

he asks. "That's a pretty personal question,
mister," she says. "I had a destination,"
he says, "but it's not important now. I'm
sure my friends will understand." She
smiles, he thinks, like a model. "Anyway,

I have no plans the rest of the day."
She says, "I guess that makes two of us."

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE

(Quick note: If you're interested in following more than one blog authored--or bloggered--by myself, then feel free to check out my new personal blog at http://robertleebrewer.blogspot.com.)

*****

For this week's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "Better safe than (blank)," fill in the blank with a word or phrase, make that the title of your poem, and write a poem. Your title could be "Better safe than late for dinner," or "Better safe than exceptionally gifted," or you can go the "safe" route with "Better safe than sorry." Your poem, your choice.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Better safe than lost"

He watches the sun rise out of the trees
and stretches his legs. He listens to birds
sing and cars rush past headed to work
and school. He starts running against
the wind and toward the woods. A trail
he loves is in there that twists and turns,
works up and down. He listens to his shoes
on blacktop then grass then the dirt and
rocks of the trail. Even though he's run
this path every morning for more than five
years, he immediately misjudges a step
and twists his ankle. But he continues
running anyway. The pain makes him feel
more alive somehow. He runs up and down
hills, through spider webs. Soon he's running
across a wooden bridge over a wide creek.
Half-way across, he stops. A raccoon is
splashing around in the water unaware
of the man in running shoes. The raccoon
twists and turns with a wood box. He
stands there on the middle of the bridge
for what feels like forever just watching
the animal play in the cool of the creek,
wishing he could be down there with it--
completely unaware of the world. Then,
he and the raccoon tense, both startled
by the sound of an approaching runner.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE

Since I'm the editor of Writer's Market and Poet's Market, writers send in questions all the time with questions about craft, publishing, marketing, etc. One of the questions I always hate to answer the most is something along the lines of, "I've been writing poems a long time now, and I think I'm ready to commit to it full time. How much money can I expect to make for my poetry?"

The reason I hate this question is that I feel like I either have to crush someone's dreams or lie. And I'm no good at lying. So, I end up saying (in as much of a non-dreamcrusher manner as I can muster) something along the lines of, "Well...umm...not much, if anything."

There are prizes, fellowships, etc., that are bestowed upon poets. But even if you win a $1,000 book prize every month (which isn't going to happen), you still won't be able to quit your day job--because you'll have to pay for postage, paper, and entry fees for all these contests, fellowships, etc.

Many journals pay in contributor copies (and some don't even do that). The few that can afford to pay in actual money usually offer less than $100 for a poem. And publishing a book isn't going to rake in the cash either. Don't believe me? Go to your local bookstore and find the poetry section (if you don't already know where it's at, it may take you a while). Look at the small offering of poets. Few of them are probably still alive. Fewer still probably don't fall into one of these categories:

1. Celebrity poet. Billy Corgan, Jewel, etc.
2. National Poet Laureate. Ted Kooser, Billy Collins, Robert Pinsky, etc.

So, bottom line: There's no money in poetry.

But is that such a bad thing? I think the lack of money in poetry helps take the pressure off the art form. It's really all about a great line, a wonderful image, something that sticks with the reader.

Sure, we all still want to get published and share our thoughts and words with the world; and sure, we'd all love it if someone paid us just to sit around and write poetry all day; but, we know that even if we don't have that situation (even if we're not getting published or getting paid) that we'll still put pen to paper (or fingertips to keyboard) and crank out poems from time to time. Just for the love of it.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE

I always keep pens with me. And usually paper, though I've been known to write on anything near me if needed: Post-It notes, receipts, envelopes, brochures, napkins, etc. Often, I'll write out a few lines, and those lines will either lead to more lines (and eventually--hopefully--a poem) or that's where the fun will stop: just a few lines. I copy all my lines into those marbled Composition notebooks whether they turn into poems or not. The reason?

Because every so often, I'll go through my notebooks and play a little game with the following rules:

1. Gather up a lot of lines from different sources. The lines can be stand alone thoughts or good lines from abandoned poems.
2. Try to make a poem out of these lines.

You can add new lines, too, if you want. But the fun of this game is trying to take a bunch of little nothings and turn it into a big (or little, I suppose) something.

Here are some random lines I've got together:

* sprawl la la la la

* I've been waiting all night

* Define yourself by what you like
   not by what you don't like

* situational ethics

* it's not the rain
   but the puddles
   that freak me out
   when I'm driving

* our toothbrushes lean into each other
   when we travel and when we forget one
   toothbrush we don't hesitate to share 

* All the ways you can hurt a man
   while tucking your hair behind your ears
   and squinting into the sun. Chewing gum
   with your mouth open, you pull
   your sunglasses over your eyes
   before leaving me alone beside the pool.

* Babies like to touch stuff

* these are the things we tell each other
   and the things we don't

* I've come for your taxes

* If I were born of the sea,
   I would carve your face
   upon a coral reef. My bottle
   would float its message
   for you to read. I would wait
   until the planet warmed...

* I got some kind of guilt

* let the old folks die
   let them wither and die

* Like this girl walking...

* I could tell you to prepare
   for the unexpected but we both
   know there's no point

* Blame it all on the girlfriend

* I can't figure your signals out anymore.

(That's a good starting point, I think.)

*****

"Situational ethics"

Blame it all on the girlfriend:
She's been waiting all night
for him to say, "I got some
kind of guilt." But he's a big
baby, and babies like to touch

stuff. Like this girl walking
while tucking hair behind
her ears and squinting into
the sun, she chews gum
with her mouth open and

leaves him alone beside
the pool to think, "If I were
born of the sea, I would
carve your face upon a coral
reef. My bottle would float

its message for you to read:
Let the old folks die; let
them wither and fade
as we sprawl la la la la
across the salty waves."

She points at the clock, says,
"I can't figure your signals
out anymore." He says, "I
could tell you to prepare
for the unexpected, but we

both know there's no point."
He defines himself by what
he likes, not by what he
doesn't like. So he shows
her their toothbrushes,

how they lean into each
other when they travel,
"And when we forget one
toothbrush, we don't hesitate
to share," he says. These

are the things they tell
each other and the things
they don't. "It's not the rain
but the puddles that freak
me out when I'm driving,"

she says. He pulls her close
and leans down to tell her,
"I've come for your taxes."

*****

Best poem? No.

Fun? Yes. And now, I've got a bonafide poem that I can try revising.

Try it out with your own lines.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry listings on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE

Since my two oldest sons live in Ohio and I live in Georgia, I travel a lot so that I can still be involved in their lives. It means that I spend two weekends and the week between in Ohio each month, which also means I spend that same time away from my wife and other two boys. So I always feel like I'm returning to someone.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a return poem. The return element can play a small or large role in the poem. Someone can be returning; someone can be waiting for another's return; or you can get even more creative (y'all constantly surprise and amaze me). Heck, I guess it could even be a poem about returning a book to the library or returning a box of stuff to an ex-lover.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"In a Mood"

Every billboard and cross
along the side of the road
has a story to tell,

but she's a blank slate,
a carpe diem waiting to happen--
so she doesn't hold back

when she tells him,
"List every girl you ever
had a crush on, and then,

count the ways
I don't measure up."
He knows this is a trap,

but he drives on anyway
looking out for speed cops
in the median. A light flashes

CHECK ENGINE within
the first hour, so he pulls
into a gas station to check

the fluids, the gas cap.
"Do you know where
you are," she asks

when she returns with
a bag of boiled peanuts
and a Coke. "Listen,"

he says, motioning her
over to his side of the car,
"I just need one bed

and you, and I'm happy."
She rolls her eyes and
jumps in the passenger seat.

"We're never going to make it
on time," she says, "you
know that, don't you?"

He doesn't believe
in quitting and thinks,
Maybe if I ignore

the CHECK ENGINE light,
it'll go away. They pass
over the Tennessee mountains

and into Kentucky without
stopping. She closes her eyes,
puts her naked feet

on the dashboard, crossing
one foot over the other.
He notices every animal

laying dead along the side
of the Interstate. The sun
shines and then it doesn't

and then it does. He thinks,
How many Waffle House
locations can one man

see before the universe
splits in half and sucks
him under? She wakes up

screaming before glancing
over at him. "I can't ever
take back the things you did,"

she says, "in my dream
just now." He's had enough:
"But I was in the car

beside you this whole time."
She turns her back to him,
"But you weren't by my side

in my dream." Frustrated,
he wonders, How many bugs
can one windshield hit

before there's no visibility?
Then, it begins to rain.
"What in God's name

happened to the 'no chance
of rain' today," he asks.
"Your problem," she says,

"is that you're not realistic.
We're never going to make
it home in time. No matter

how early we leave or
whether or not there's rain
or if the CHECK ENGINE light

is on or off. Your father's
dead, and you missed
your chance. We're just

returning to an empty shell."
He thinks, Not every hilltop
has a cemetery, but

so many do. "I was in a mood
when I told you what I told you
in your dream," he says.

Just then, the CHECK ENGINE
light flickers off, the rain
moves on, and so do they.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE
• For poetry markets on WritersMarket.com, CLICK HERE

Nearly every day of the April PAD Challenge is narrowed down to the Top 5. Soon, it will be complete, and I'll be sending those poems to the guest judges. While I'd like to have been able to announce everything by now, I guess the success of the second challenge will help me better estimate when to make the announcements next year.

I'm sorry not to have anything specific yet, but please know that I am working on it as much as possible.

Roses are red;
violets are blue;
I'm going to the Writer's Digest Conference in New York City,
and so should you.

Hmmm... My meter might be a little off in that third line.

I'm fresh back from vacation. So my first official task is to figure out what's the next cool thing on my schedule. And it so happens that the next cool thing (that's not blog-related, of course) is the Writer's Digest Conference in New York City in September. (I bet Central Park will be beautiful!)

From a poetry slam on September 18 at the world famous Bowery Poetry Club to one-on-one critiques with editors, this conference will cover all the bases for publishing, including the top five legal issues writers face, the digitization of the publishing industry, effective marketing and promotion for fiction writers, how to build an effective author website, creating an author platform, and so much more. And the conference is in Times Square, so I can get a little sight-seeing worked in with my...umm...work.

Plus, I'll get to hang with my Writer's Digest posse, including Chuck Sambuchino, Jane Friedman, Alice Pope, Jessica Strawser, and the rest of the gang. And it would be great to see y'all at the event as well. We could talk poetry at the Bowery, wander around Manhattan, and soak up the lights of Times Square.

If you're interested, you can learn more about the conference at http://www.writersdigestconference.com.

And if you do register, send me an e-mail at robert.brewer@fwmedia.com and be sure to say, "Hi."

Sorry for the late prompt. But I'm on vacation. And the good kind. Where I'm not on the computer the whole time. And one where I can spend time with all four of my boys (and even one of their cousins). And one where I can read literary journals. And collections of poetry. And even IKEA catalogs (actually haven't read that yet, but found it in the mail moments ago).

So anyway, I've been on vacation and soaking it up.

*****

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about something you've been through. For instance, you may have been through a divorce, a car wreck, bankruptcy, detention, or the flu. Please make the something you've been through the title of your poem and go from there.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Hydroplaning"

Rolling Stones play "Ruby Tuesday"
on New Year's Day through southern Kentucky
Ben and Jonah asleep in the backseat
as their mother falls in and out up front
rain beats on the windshield and blacktop
water pushes through the rocks
puddles along the edge of the Interstate
even at 50 miles-per-hour this car
moves faster than most and then I feel
the wheels turn in a direction I did not intend
and before I can stop myself I try to correct
our trajectory which only spins us faster
one.....two.....three times into the guard rail
their mother screaming "omygodomygodomygod"
as I hold the wheel steady and wait
for everything to stop and hope we aren't
blindsided by a truck that can't stop behind us
and then the car stops and we're facing
the railing and blocking the first lane
and Ben and Jonah and their mother are all
screaming and I'm thinking "is everyone okay?"

I admit it; I'm one of those weird people who actually loves the 80's movie Ishtar that starred Warren Beatty and Dustin Hoffman as struggling musicians. In true 80's movie style, this movie has an incredible plot, but what I love the most is how the characters played by Beatty and Hoffman are always creating new songs--from "Hot fudge love, cherry ripple kisses" to the scenes with both working on a song with the line "telling the truth can be dangerous business" this movie is a must-see for all who haven't. But this is not a movie review.

For this week's prompt, I was inspired by that line "telling the truth can be dangerous business," and I want you to write a poem that deals with telling the truth--or even with telling a lie. It can be dangerous business, especially if the news is bad. I hope that this prompt is not as big a flop as Ishtar (again, go see it).

Here's my attempt for the day:

"The Review"

We appeared at the designated time
and place. We ate the hors d'oeuvres,
but we can't remember one painting
that will stick with us past this week.

*****

Looking for more poetry-related information?

• For poetic forms, CLICK HERE
• For interviews with poets, CLICK HERE
• For the free monthly Poet’s Market newsletter, CLICK HERE
• For discounted poetry references, CLICK HERE

While I love being able to offer all the free and valuable content on Poetic Asides, I'm also not ashamed of the fact that I have to sell stuff to keep working as an editor. I've been working for nearly 10 years on Writer's Market and other writing titles, and I jumped at the opportunity to edit Poet's Market last year. After months of hard work, the 2010 Poet's Market is now ready for consumption.

It includes all the listings for magazines, book publishers, contests, conferences, and more that you'd expect from Poet's Market, but I'm also proud of the amazing articles in this edition. From well-known slam poet Taylor Mali giving poetry reading advice to an article on poetry translations, I really feel the 2010 Poet's Market has significantly raised the bar as far as editorial content. (In fact, I've got my work cut out for me to figure out how I can top myself for 2011.)

Oh yeah, each copy of the 2010 Poet's Market also includes an activation code that provides access to the poetry listings on WritersMarket.com for a full year (from when you sign up).

Anyway, the book is now available at a great discounted price on our WritersDigestShop.com site. With a cover price of $29.99, you can get it off the site for only $19.79. And it's brand-spanking-new. Can't beat that.

Check it out at: http://www.writersdigestshop.com/product/2010-poets-market/

Since I don't communicate with the promotions people too often, I'm not sure if that price is permanent or temporary--so it's probably best to order as soon as you can before they come up with some new pricing strategy.

*****

And earlier this year, I led a very successful online seminar for poets titled: Get Your Poetry Published. Many people asked if we'd be offering up a recorded version of the seminar, and I'm happy to say that we're offering that now as well.

In this seminar, I explain how to identify appropriate markets; avoid mistakes many poets make when they submit their writing that can garner an immediate rejection (before the editor even reads any of the poems); write good cover letters; and I give tips on how to track your submissions.

If you're interested in learning more about this recorded seminar (or even if you just want to see a staff headshot taken of me from earlier this year), go to: http://www.writersdigestshop.com/product/get-your-poetry-published-download/

I always love this time of year because of the Tour de France. Lance Armstrong is back cycling, but it's obvious his teammate Alberto Contador (who I love watching race) is going to win this year unless something catastrophic happens. My love continually grows for the Tour because of the combination of ability and strategy that makes for great sport.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a competitive poem. That is, I want you to write a poem about a competition of some sort. Could be an athletic competition, academic competition, the age old competition of survival of the fittest, or even the competitive art of getting published.

Here's my attempt for the day:

"Complementary"

She arrives home early from work
and begins cooking. He follows

minutes after with the children
who he helps finish their homework

before they all sit together
at the table to eat. Then, he

washes the dishes as she puts
the kids in the bath tub. They both

get the children dressed and ready
for bed--taking turns reading books

and telling stories. When the kids
finally fall asleep, both race

each other to get into bed.

Today's prompt is still on the way, but I just wanted to link to this piece on these 8th graders from Ron Clark Academy here in Atlanta, Georgia. These kids wrote poems on what it's like to be a black teenager in America, in addition to other topics. Plus, what's cool about this piece is that you can actually view 9 of the poems from the actual article on cnn.com.

I love seeing young people create and remember how important it was for me as I struggled to figure out who I was and what I cared about. That's why I always buy paper and writing utensils for my boys and encourage them to create as well, whether that means writing a story or drawing pictures of Godzilla. (Lots and lots of pictures of Godzilla.)

The ghazal (pronounced "guzzle"--thanks to Edward Byrne) is a Persian poetic form. The original form was very simple: five to 15 couplets using the same rhyme with the poet's name in the final couplet. The main themes were usually love or drinking wine.

Contemporary ghazals have abandoned the rhymes and insertion of the poet's name in the final couplet. In fact, even the themes of love and drinking wine are no longer mandatory--as the poem now just needs the couplets which are complete thoughts on their own but also all work together to explore a common theme (whatever that might be).

If you wish to stay traditional though, here's the rhyme scheme you would follow:

a
a

b
a

c
a

and so on to the final stanza (depending upon how many you include).

Many traditional ghazals will also incorporate a refrain at the end of each couplet that could be one word or a phrase.

I'm no master of the ghazal, but here's my attempt at the form:

Ghazal at 31

Like me and you, two cardinals twitter and twist
through branches seeking some fling to flitter and twist.

My hands were not always as strong as they were long,
dreaming of some new purpose--they fit her and twist.

At the window, surveying the way that sunlight
obeys what blocks, the way it can filter and twist.

I first saw what I saw but did not understand
the difference between grass or litter. Hand twist.

We fell from heaven and were lost, but we searched with
out knowing why not to be a quitter--and twist. 

At 31, even Robert Lee Brewer can
question his ability to glitter and twist.