Day 2 PAD 2023

 

This poem is presented in its rough draft form for the PAD 2023 challenge and will be revised. 

"Ticket"

I had a ticket for a
blockbuster life, but they said
it was sold out. I watch this
b-movie alone.

Poetic Form: Kouta (7775)

April Poetry Challenge 2021: Day Twenty

 

“This April Snow”

The morning starts, coffee maker a glow

Window reveals flurries passing by

A winter wind rattles my ribs, temperature low

No one will notice the ice in the corner of my eye

I smile, as I fall apart like this April snow

Gently moving down from the steel grey sky

A winter wind rattles my ribs, temperature low

No one will notice the ice in the corner of my eye

I try to capture a moment from a photo

I only hear the memory of your goodbye

I smile, as I fall apart like this April snow

Gently moving down from the steel grey sky

I try to capture a moment from a photo

I only hear the memory of your goodbye

The days are now unplanted rows

Loneliness knocks at the door, ready to testify

I smile, as I fall apart like this April snow

Gently moving down from the steel grey sky

The days are now unplanted rows

Loneliness knocks at the door, ready to testify

My breath says another love I may never know

Or feel the freedom of days in July

I smile, as I fall apart like this April snow

Gently moving down from the steel grey sky

April Poetry Challenge 2021: Day Eight

 

Day 8 Prompt: Metaphor

Form: Free Verse

“Winter Coat”

Early April day

    Forecast calls for sun

        And 78 degrees

But I am taking my winter coat off the hanger

It is dark blue

     Thick with grey fur you can see alone the edges of the collar

    and the cuffs

I grunt at the weight as I fling it behind me

    Frustration swells as my left hand blindly searches for the sleeve

    My heart calms as I feel the lining meet my arm

        A sense of comforting despair encloses me while 

I shimmy the coat until it fits on my shoulders

    Like an old friend

        Who you know tells your secrets

            But no one else picks up the phone

when you call late at night

The sun is bright

    as I open the door to the day

I stuff my hands into the pockets

    That feel as deep as the Mariana Trench

    I have lost countless scraps of paper

With love poems scratched on them

        I’ve lost handfuls of change

            Both money and personal

        in the depths of those pockets

    My finders have never felt the seems

        at the bottom

        no matter how far I reach inside of them

I step outside

Pause at the top step to button up

    I know it is going to be one of those beautiful spring days

        For others

The buttons are worn smooth from the years

    Small scratches of regret,

 The thread barely holding on

One angry tug and they would be gone

I pull the collar up around my neck

    protection against the warmth that awaits on the sidewalk

The fur is thick

    Musty from the sweat of panic 

        that collects behind my ears

    A friend would not be able to recognize me

        if I walked past them

    No exchange of hellos

        or stopping to catch up on lost time

I know everyone will simply walk by

    Eyes averted by a screen

        or discomfort

 from the site of me

Wearing my winter coat 

    in 78 degrees

        on a sunny April day

Poetry Challenge Day 24: Nature

Friday Rain

The sunrise is covered by grey April clouds

Rain colder than snow

Penetrates my skin

Grass and winter’s decay mix with my coffee

Not sure if my spirit will rise today

The storm is covering my window panes

While the wind is stirring through the garage doors

Moving dust along the foundation

How do you find the sun

When yesterday looks just like tomorrow

All I want to do is run free

Dodging the rain as it follows the wind

In a frazzled way down

Down with my eyelids 

Protecting my view of today

My hair beginning to flatten to my skull

Dripping down my collar

Another gust pushes me to my left

For a second I believe I can tumble like a leaf

To be swept away, maybe to the gulf

But I step hard with my left foot

Steady my cup in both hands

My daughters call to me, with giggles

They want to know what I was doing outside

Their eyes smile in wonder, anticipating an answer

I want to tell them the truth

That I was searching to be baptized by the storm

That I was trying to recite a sacred prayer

Instead I tell them that fathers gain special powers

In a Friday rain

What powers they ask, never doubting my words

I stare at them for a few seconds

Then quietly I tell them the truth

To love you more each day

Slowly, they start to smile

My skin warming in their hugs

Poetry Challenge Day 8: Future

 

April 7 Headlines

April 7, 1790, 

The Gazette of the United-States newspaper reported

    the scheme for the New York City Lottery

    tickets to be 40 cents

    top prize 3000

    16654 tickets would be blank

The funds would allow the city hall building to be expanded

    to accommodate congress

April 7, 1810

The Delaware Gazette newspaper reported

    the Melancholy accident of 

    Anthony M Murdy

    Who fell to his death while

        removing dirt from a clay bank

    He left a wife and several children

April 7, 1858

The Carroll Free Press newspaper reported

    That Mr. Geo. H Lamb was arrested

    for the murder of his second wife

    His first wife was reported missing three years earlier

    The police took him into custody

    In front of his third wife of eight days

April 7, 2020

Every newspaper’s headlines were filled with 

    coronavirus deaths from across the world

Choose any April 7 from the past

    And you will find stories

    recorded in history by the lives

    of the people who lived them

Stories of pain and loss

    of beginnings 

    of chance taking its turn with the plot line

    and every once in awhile

        a story of joy

I’ll bet my lottery ticket that if you could read the newspaper

    for any April 7 in the future

        You will read the same

Poetry Challenge Day 1: New World

To the Old Man Gardening During the Pandemic 

It is April 1, 2020

This is no joke, though

It’s late morning 

I am walking for the ninth day in a row

You are sitting on a yellow bucket

sleeveless black puffer jacket 

dark button-down work shirt

brown pants

and a black flat cap on your head

The lines on your face shows the years like a tree stump

The trowel in your hand moves slowly

    clearing away dead leaves

    turning up soil

A few purple tulips dot the garden

By summer your garden will be in full color

    but for now

there is work to be done

We nod hello, quickly

I’ve got earbuds in

 and a black hoodie on

I don’t know your age

    but you are old enough to have gone through the Great Depression

two world wars

Black Monday

9/11 

And now this moment in history

As I turn the corner

heading home

I wonder how many times you’ve seen the sky fall?

How did you deal with each fear?

What losses did you endure?

I do not resist the urge to look back

You are moving the yellow bucket a few feet to the left

    bending down you clear more dead debris

    working the top soil for the flowers to come

I smile

as I consider how much of your old world

is just the same as this new world