PAD 8 - Panic Poem

For today’s prompt, write a panic poem. There are any number of things a person can panic about, including severe weather, military invasions, or what to wear to an event. And while some may be more life or death than others, that feeling of panic is just as real for a person who has to get up and speak in front of a crowd of smiling strangers as it is for a person hiding in the basement of their house as a tornado approaches.


Hm..
I'm not really in the mood.
Feeling super peaceful.
will get back to this.

PAD 7 - Discovery:Afternoon Nap

For today’s prompt, write a discovery poem. This poem could be about making a discovery; it could be about something discovered (by someone or something else); or something you’d like to discover. I can’t wait to discover what new poems poets will create.

Afternoon Nap 

I am here only to my mid thigh.

My knees, calves, ankles, feet

have yet to return, take shape, 

fill in, have edges, be.

Below my mid thigh

I am wide as Greenland.

wider.

I am quite obviously infinite

as I have been

the clock tells me

for two hours

in the middle of the day.

I remember returning

through the crown of my head.

I remember that point being, also,

structurally, like a the final leaf to bloom

on an artichoke, say,

as all the sections pull back

to let, 

I will call it - me -

in.

softly.  softly.

So, I returned through there

top down

the leaves of the specific

pulling back

made of 

light, hues overlapping

and I put myself back together

- it seemed to take an hour -

from some inside out 

one color at a time

sheaves of cells at a time.

I make myself coffee 

black

and in this wide afternoon

I will myself toes

and a name

to name this gratitude,

this self,

this home-coming.

PAD 6 - Sound

For today’s prompt, write a poem about a sound. The poem could be about a small sound, a loud sound, a happy sound, or a creepy sound. And yes, music sounds count as well.

If, I was like an animal,

more animal-like than I am

If I had no language

as we assume they have none

I would simply hear

I would hear now

an almost regular whoosh

go by: softer, louder, softer, softer louder softer

I would hear a tiny buzz

all around (is that my self I hear?  my blood?)

I would hear

the (almost) regular whoosh go by: softer louder softer

and the cluttery clanking messy 

sound of a garbage truck

I would hear the distant freeway buzz

growing, magnifying, folding my tiny buzz into it, I

would hear the voice of some walking by

their voices: bits of timbre, dancing

a thrum of a jackhammer

pounding into the street, intervening with what is.

In this way, I would know,

without language, without sight even

That the day was beginning.

I don't need your opinion

to know what's happening.

Everything speaks.

PAD 5 - Californium

For today’s prompt, pick an element (like from the periodic table), make it the title of your poem (or part of the title), and then, write the poem. Anything goes from hydrogen to oganesson.




Californium

There is an element: Californium.
How about that?  Who knew?
That seems silly

and yet it is my element
my love
my world of wild oats
and twisting oaks
of delta breeze
and river scent
scramble granitescape
and dear broad valley
the homey way - orchard-filled 
to the crashing Pacific
hung with a pendant of
the thinnest
sliver
moon

                                  (and Venus!)

Californium: my element
my first love and likely my last

Someday, I'll pull the motherlode hills
up over me

and sleep forever
stable
forever blessed.

PAD 4 - Beginning

• Write a beginning poem. And, of course, when something begins, it often signals something else ending. Soooo, the other prompt is to…
• Write an ending poem. Poem about something ending.

What one begins anew often

is this thing of being one's self

Waking up to say

Today - I won't obfuscate

I won't shuffle, delay

As if one could BE

better.  In the beginning

you feel different,

the master of the sounds you hear, the trainer

of your pacing thoughts.

Perhaps it is possible

to change, by simply

attending, intending, 

watching the whole room

beginning again

now with will

and a small flourish

- snapping a whip 

so you will rise up

and  - in the present now - yourself 

your actual self

be.

PAD 3 - Halls of Love

Halls of Love

In my dream -
after he came to my bed, twice,
in his surprising, urgent interest,
there are four there
rolling together in the stairwell
then five
then six
then me

and another walks up.
We go to a room next door, visible to all.

Soon, as I look back to the rumpled bed,
I have to admit, I didn't know how easy it
was, how common, to live like this and then
another stranger, in the doorway of another room,
dressed with a tie and a microphone,
asks me to come in

and just look at all the money
all the money things
watches and jewelry,
an art piece: a poorly-made ceramic heart
set on a background of cash
spread loosely in giant denominations

and he asks me how I feel.
I feel nothing.  I think some of it's fake
that giant diamond, - giant -  with gold flecks,
just silly - and I go down the hall
where there are vast rooms of people
dressed up as fairy tale characters
with the women's breasts exposed
here and there.

Across from them is another stage.
"Imagine" blasts from speakers.
The audience is animated and one hands me
a tomato to throw at a flat metal sculpture they turn to face -
silhouettes of immigrants getting off a boat.

"Imagine all the people
sharing all the world" crackles from the speakers
and the partiers go wild and throw all they have.

I am glad I don't, can't.
I stand there, stunned.
I am still amazed he wanted me like that.
Twice.

PAD 2 - Not Today

For today’s prompt, write a “not today” poem. Maybe it’s normal to give in to outside pressures, but not today. Or maybe you’re usually very disciplined in your health and wellness habits, but not today. Or maybe you struggle to write poems, but not today.


Not Today

Today I won't look in the mirror
and hate my reflection as if it is the clearest evidence
of all my failures, all my dullness, all my denial

how round, how flat, how white, how empty
how this 
these lips, thin, like mean
these eyes
not worn to character by laughter but dullness, 
waiting, looking, not looking

my neck widened like a freeway, widened
the sorrow in my eyes
not even true
not even evocative

of the loss that defines me

Shell of self
I won't look at you today

I will just feel care
coursing through my lucky veins

and know it is beautiful, alive
and paid for in full.