A Mini Complaint
I bought a bag of mini chocolates
Individually wrapped
Where’s the FUN in that
More work, less reward
Day 10 PAD – write a mini poem
Tag: PAD
Poetry of Paranoia
Poetry of Paranoia
This poem is not too sure of itself
It’s always looking over its shoulder
Second guessing itself
Waiting for the other shoe to drop
It sleeps with the lights on
And is always on the lookout
For black cats and sidewalk ladders
And open umbrellas indoors
It is a “chicken little” kind of poem
Expecting the sky to fall
Sending Love
Sending Love
She blows kisses to a fluffy cloud
Hoping the wind will blow it
Straight to you, then squeeze it
Out to express every drop
Of love it holds upon your life
Garden Magic
Garden Magic
Deep in each small seed
A mystery lies buried
Only sun and rain
Can create the magic spell
That will free the hidden prize
A red tomato
Or a yellow sunflower
Captured in a shell
Waiting to at last uncurl
To the gardener’s delight
New Rules for Writing Poetry
New Rules for Writing Poetry
Go to a library
Find an old book
The well- read kind with
a tattered cover and dog- eared pages
Gently shake it over a blank sheet of paper
until it has no more words to give
Spread the loose word evenly
Fold the paper into a crane and let it fly away
Wait
When the crane returns open it and read its poem aloud
Turn it into a small boat
Set it adrift on the current of dreams encircling the universe
Tell Me
Tell Me
Don’t tell me about your new car
with its fancy dashboard and back up camera.
Don’t tell me about your latest trip to
some foreign country with beaches and sunshine.
Don’t tell me how long you waited in the drive-thru
line for your morning latte.
Tell me instead about birdsong in the morning,
the male goldfinches singing their hearts
out, dressed in their brightest yellow feathers.
Tell me about the row of orange and pink
Zinnias, planted especially for bees and butterflies.
Tell me how much you care about this old planet
with all its light and darkness, its joys and sorrows.
Tell me the stories of its creation and the hope for its future.
Tell me love stories about you and me.
—
Day 22 of Poem a Day at Writer’s Digest
Cycle of the Cicadas
Cycle of the Cicada
She heard them before she saw them –
a high-pitched whirring sound, like a herd
of tiny lawn mowers. The nearby woods were the
scene of this emerging miracle, something only seen
every 17 years. Insects, crawling out of the ground,
shedding their outer shells to become winged creatures
with red eyes, like monsters in some scary book, read by
flashlight under the covers – the stuff of nightmares.
Amid the cacophony of their short lives, she prayed the
old woods would still be standing as silent witness
to the next cycle of the cicadas.
Day 25 of Poem a Day
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2024-april-pad-challenge-day-25
No Frog, No Sound
No Frog, No Sound
This poem is a shadow of
its former self, shedding syllables,
leaving a trail of letters behind
as
it
fades
Its feet leave no trace of rhythm
There are no stanzas left, no
couplets standing in the moonlight
It can no longer count to 5-7-5
All that remains is an old pond
Day 15 of PAD has us writing a shadow poem
haiku
wrinkled brown toad
emerging from the dirt
sign of Spring
Day 7 of PAD has us writing a “small” poem
Conjuring Memories
Conjuring Memories
It’s not the yeasty smell of
Freshly baked bread or
The peppery smell of roses
The bring her back to me.
Although her oven produced
Magical loaves and her garden
Simmered with old fashioned roses,
It is the sharp, medicinal smell of
Vicks Vap-o-rub that conjures up
My mother’s memory and her gentle
Fingers smoothing the chilly potion
Over my sickly chest, spreading love.
–
Day 6 of PAD
rhymeswithbug 