Photos for January Stones and April PAD 2012 property of M J Dills (exception 1/16)







Thursday, April 7, 2016

April 7, 2016 Fill-in-the-blank Prompt: Urban___________

Urban Memories


The first time I moved into the city, I was a
very young 18 year old 
naïf. Danger
was not in my lexicon, nor was
caution. I was guided by
sandal-footed cult zombies
who had as much recognition of darkness
as I did of their
foolishness. On a cold November night,
we were warmed by the bonfire of
a
four
story
protest
across the street where bare pine studs
had been pounded together
just that very morning. A man
stabbed his cousin in the neck at the end
of our alley, in the doorway where a baker
gave me fresh baked bread, steaming
warm, every pre-dawn
morning and stared
openly at my
well covered chest,
asking me if I was a
virgin.

I always took the bread. 

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Wednesday, April 6, 2016

April 6, 2016 For today’s prompt, write an ekphrastic poem. An ekphrastic poem is a poem inspired by art.


The piece of art I’ve chosen is 
“If Once You Have Slept On An Island”
 - Jamie Wyeth



Foghorn tells me in early morning hours

I am still here. Its heavy resonance

warns sailors

I sleep here.

I sleep here.

If once you have slept on an island,

the sound of the water beating

the shore makes percussion with

the ceiling fan that

thrums the air, the tinkle of chain

hitting dull light bulb is not unlike

pebbles awash in erosion,

peeling layers of the earth,

one

per every ten thousand years.

Cicadas and other

small

green species,

rubbing legs together or

mating, all through the night.

Wind passing through fronds and branches, boughs and limbs,

singing, moaning, keening.

Sleeping on an island is trapped

like on a boat that

does not move. Every sound reminds me

I am here.

I sleep here.

I wake here.

If the wind blows

over this island, I must cling to it or

perish in an uncaring sea.



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Tuesday, April 5, 2016

April 5, 2016 - Write a poem about experience



“The Only Source of Knowledge is Experience” – Albert Einstein

How does one climb
without a ladder? How do you find the way
when you have no charts? What happens if you
do it wrong the first time? How do you know
this
is
the
first
time?
What alphabet, what language, what code???
How do you light a lamp
if you have no match?
When no one
needs you,
how can you help? Where do you begin
when you don’t know what you’re doing? How do you get
experience
when you have no
experience? How do you know
what tools to use when you don’t know
what the job is? How did the first person
do what they had to do to
get
it
done?

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Thanks for reading.....

Monday, April 4, 2016

Day 4 - Write a poem about Distance


Distance


The foothills are within sight. I can see the snow is beginning to melt.

You live there. Just outside the city, where foxes come into your yard and steal fish out of your pond and you don’t know whether to be amused or angry.

Your collection of cars keeps you busy and the auto shows are a priority for you. Having no children, these hulking machines are like your babies.

Sometimes in my dreams, I carry you on my shoulders.  Other times, you are down a long road, maybe alone, or with others, and I call your name but you can’t hear me. You’re too far away. 

I had to leave behind the flowers you gave me three years ago because there was just too much to pack. Now I wish I had them. It’s sad to have nothing of you.

I worry about you when I die. It will be over then and you won’t have done the things you need to do. I will be gone and I can’t save you. 

I often think about the time we thought you were lost at sea and the terror that invaded my nights for weeks to come. I got over it finally.

This last Easter Sunday, you couldn’t come because you had other plans. It was too bad; you could have helped us remember details of the time you chased the robber all over the back yards of the neighborhood and the cops eventually caught him. You would have laughed with us. We laughed until there were tears in our eyes. 

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Sunday, April 3, 2016

The Three Blanks

April 3, 2016
Three _____      The prompt for today is a "Fill in the Blank" poem

Three Blanks







Three Blanks walk into a bar.
Being from the shores of the Black Sea
The first one orders vodka from Krasnodar
Fills himself up and claims he is the Czar!

The second says she’ll take whiskey in a mason jar
The way they drink it in Zanzibar
And struts to the stage with her electric guitar
Where she begins her repertoire,
Empty of soul, but bound to be a star.

The third Blank, a canvas from a previous seminar,
Orders champagne and caviar
Pulls out a pistol purchased earlier at the bazaar  
Says to the keeper of the bar
“I’m not shooting blanks
Give me the keys to your car
and
Stay where you are!”

The czar, who’s really from Dakar,
Snickers and yells
“You won’t get very far!”
While the singer, who’s actually a basketball star
Leaps in front of the shooter, like a Final Four quasar
And says
“The barkeep walks to work,
You silly Renoir…

Close. But no cigar.”

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Thank you for reading...

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Day Two PAD 2016 – Write a he said or she said poem


That's What He Said










“She didn’t know what hit her.”
That’s what he said.
But I wanted her to know what'd hit her.
She wouldn’t have liked not knowing what hit her.
"She didn't feel a thing."
Wherever she is now…she is wondering and
Believe me; she’d want to know
and she’s mad as hell.
“She didn’t know what hit her.”
That’s what he said.
How does he know?
How could he know?
We don’t know.
Her pain may still be hurting 
Wherever she is now…

I look down at his shiny black shoes,
The ugly linoleum floor
With black skid marks
Stains from fluids and substances I could 
only imagine
Chips and scars in a floor
of people going too fast to 
get somewhere not in time.
”She didn’t know what hit her.”
That’s all he said.

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Thanks for reading.

Day One - Poem a Day - Prompt - write a foolish poem




Morning








The crow
And the mystery train
Drove me through the night rain
Cars swishing by in rivulets
Swimming rats go down the drain
Black tar roof out my window
Puddles pooling, mirroring shadows of clouds
Overhead.
I'm not dead
I'm only dreaming
Waking up for rainbows
Nothing but fool's gold.

This was supposed to be a foolish poem written on Aprils Fools' Day. These images stayed with me all day and this is what I came up with.

Thanks for reading...

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