The April PAD (Poem-A-Day) Challenge is designed to help poets do one thing and one thing only: Write more poems! The process of revision may go on for weeks, months, and years later, but this challenge is all about getting that first draft. Please poem along with us–either in the comments below or silently at home.
For today’s prompt, write a new arrival poem. The new arrival could be a baby or a person. The new arrival might be a car or other piece of technology. Heck, the new arrival might be an idea or poem. (Btw, if you’re a new arrival to the site and this challenge, take a peak below about commenting.)
Coming home
there is the toast, uneaten
dried stiff but buttery still
the bouquet - camelias
all but one fallen like soft
dresses to the table
the mail stuffed in the box
all asking for money
but one
with my name on it
- thank goodness
"Blue Skies"
early to bed,
still moving from travel,
my exhales animate the dead air around me
the familiar sheets
touch me
home
I dream of a butterfly collection
I do not have
of needing to return
a monarch to its crystal case
before anyone knows
I have it, fluttering, in my hand.
In the morning I stand on my porch.
My neighbor is walking her dog
and the cats that were born under my back stairs
that I didn't want
dart out of bushes to follow her.
Good life.
The unfolding of stories -
the growing of things -
proper.
awake early
my body expects New York
expects to see bare branches
pressing back the buds of Spring
expects a world of nothing but potential
But here, in my California,
the leaves have already pushed past
the almond blossoms,
the shadow of the mighty oak
has camoflauged itself in the exact color of the hill
and so vanished
and my life, it seems,
as I walk through it like a stranger
is here,
I can see that,
and has been largely
lived.
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