November PAD Challenge 2016

by | Nov 30, 2016 | November Chapbook Challenge, | 0 comments



Day 1 – Write a stay or go poem or both.
Day 2 – An animal poem (write about an animal or write as an animal)
Day 3 – If I’d only…..
Day 4 – An imagined life poem
Day 5 – A wire poem
Day 6 – A phobia poem
Day 7 – An activity poem
Day 8 – Nothing will ever change or Nothing will be the same
Day 9 – Call me …….
Day 10 –  A Tragic Poem
Day 11 – A Description Poem
Day 12 – A Month
Day 13 – A Daily Occurrence
Day 14 – A Dedication Poem
Day 15 – A Natural or Unnatural Poem
Day 16 – Play (———)
Day 17 – Paper
Day 18 – write a poem that uses the following six words: band, logic, pack, web, froth , clean
(You can write a sestina, villanelle, free verse, or haiku. Just be sure to use the six words in any possible combination that you can manage.)
Day 19 – Poem about a commonplace location
Day 20 – A poem from a saying
Day 21 – A thinking out loud poem
Day 22 – A sharing or selfish poem
Day 23 – When …………….
Day 24 – An imitation poem
Day 25 – A Tape Poem
Day 26 – A visitor poem
Day 27 – A falling apart poem
Day 28 – I want …..
Day 29 – A love or hate poem
Day 30 – A Last Chance Poem
Day 1 – Write a stay or go poem or both

I am moving on.
By the end of the year
I will be gone.
I’m away to the sea
I am retiring there
in sunny Newquay.
I’m leaving behind
all my junk although
I don’t really mind.
I’m leaving friends too.
Should I stay or go?
I’ll miss them, it’s true.
But hopefully
before too long
friends will visit me.
I’ve answered the call
to where I belong.
I’m off to Cornwall.
Day 2 – An animal poem
My mum has sold our house.
We’re off to pastures new
living right near a beach.
I hope that fact is true.
I’ve been on holiday
paddling there in the stream
until it reached the sea,
but that sure made me scream.
The waves came crashing in
and that made me quite scared
so I went back again
to paddle where I dared.
I watched the other dogs
who were chasing a ball
right out into the waves
showing no fear at all.
Mum thinks I’m a wimp.
Paws on the ground I keep.
I like to play in pools
until they get too deep.
When we move to our house
near to the deep blue sea
I might get used to waves
and braver I might be.
Day 3 – If I’d only ….
If I’d only known I would retire to Cornwall
I wouldn’t have spent out on all
I have bought since twenty fourteen.
I installed a brand new kitchen,
new windows, with double glazing,
and special garden landscaping.
I’ve got to leave it all behind.
but even so I don’t really mind.
I’ll be in my favourite place when
I’ll landscape my garden again.
My new kitchen’s got double glazing.
My new home will be simply amazing.
I s’pose my old house looks better
and it probably sold quicker
than it would possibly have done
if I’d left everything alone.
If only I’d known I would retire at all
I’d have gone sooner to Cornwall.
If I’d only spent less time
at work as a clerk in my prime.
Could I have been a better wife?
If I’d only spent less years
of arguing and crying tears.
Could it have improved our life?
If I’d only spent more hours
on our mutual pleasures.
How much happier would we be?
If I’d only spent less cash
building up my wardrobe stash.
How much less friction would there be?
If I’d only spent my days
improving my wicked ways.
Would I be a better person?
If I’d only spent more nights
satisfying our delights.
Would you still have gone?
If I’d only been gifted with hindsight
I just might have made things right.
But I doubt you would.
If I’d only been older when I was young
I might have held my tongue.
But I doubt you could.
Day 4 – An Imagined Life Poem
Imagine life by the ocean
where the air is fresh and clean
as wind blows in from the sea.
That’s where I want to be.
Imagine a gentle harbour walk
watching the seagulls flock
as skiffs and ships come into land,
with a bag of chips in your hand.
Imagine taking the dog down there
to walk the beach without a care,
to paddle the stream running down the sand
with a Cornish pasty in your hand.
Imagine a footpath on the coast
leading somewhere you love the most.
Imagine an afternoon unplanned
with a Cornish cream tea at your hand.
Imagine watching the sun go down
on the cliffs at the edge of town,
as the tide comes in over the sand
with a glass of wine in your hand.
Imagine life in Cornwall
It won’t be too long at all
before my dog and me
move there where I want to be.
Day 5 – A wire poem
knowing no bounds
sit uttering cooing sounds
and excreting pounds
which gather in mounds
in my dog’s playground
to confound my hound
having a brawl
with their screeching squawl
sitting on my new garden wall
watching my dog playing ball
waiting to steal a haul
of dog treats that fall
will make her bawl
How did my young GSD pup
bite through the machine’s wire
without blowing herself up?
Of course, it blew the fuse
but at least she didn’t expire
though the dryer’s no use
as the knobs are all dodgy.
She systematically trashed her entire
surroundings, that destructive doggy.
Day 6 – A Phobia Poem


I’ve a fear of eight
and especially of late
I’ve started to really hate
those that have smaller mates
who weave webs across doorways and gates.
But worse are those big monsters who sit and wait
in corners of my room before they skate
across the floor heading straight
for me, who is in a great state
at the sight of those eight
creepy legs.

I don’t want to leave my house today
in my home and garden I’d rather stay
watching my flowers grow and my dog at play
In my home I happily abide
I can’t be bothered to go outside
even for just a local bus ride
I prefer to be in broad daylightI can’t see to drive at night
now I am losing my sight
I don’t go shopping any more
My provisions are delivered to my door
and I spend less than I did before
Will I still feel like this when
I move to Cornwall? But then
I’ll want to go to the sea again
Day 7 – An Activity Poem
I’ve been shredding my life:
bank statements, bills,
letters from lovers,
prescriptions for pills.
I’m down sizing my home:
no room for sentiment.
I’m moving away
without impediment.
Day 8 – Nothing will ever change or Nothing will be the same
I’m moving home and for me
nothing ever the same will be.
Everything to me will be so strange
but for my dog nothing will change.
Wherever we may wander or roam
she will be happy by my side at home.
Day 9 – Call me …….
But why do we have to have
a racist bigot holding his trump
card in the White Office ready
to press a button at any time
he feels that the world is not right?
Maybe America has given up
their democratic right
for justice without a fight.
The world has gone mad
and I am so very sad
that over half the US nation,
just like the UK, is being
influenced by bigotry and racism.
Call me a time machine so I can go back again
but with all the knowledge I have now in my brain.
I’d like to return to a specific date,
like when I moved in here in ‘eighty eight.
Would I do things differently? Probably not,
but at least I could get a second shot
at all those special years I’ve had
in this home with my memories, both happy and sad.
Now I’m moving on, quite unexpected,
leaving behind most things I’ve collected.
Some have been shredded, some given away
some taken to be recycled, not much will stay.
Over the years I’ve owned cats, birds and dogs,
rabbits, chickens, fish, chipmunks and frogs.
A lifetime of hoarded stuff may have gone for ever
but will I forget my pets, probably never.
Day 10 –  A Tragic Poem
When my mother passed away
her treasured things came to me.
Over the years of our accumulations
of meaningful, meaningless collections
we had both amassed too much stuff
and I’d finally got more than enough.
My spending sprees
simply had to stop.
I used to shop ’til I’d drop.
“Didn’t have it yesterday
so don’t need it tomorrow”
became my new motto.
Now I’m moving away
to a smaller home
not much can stay.
I have to make room.
Clothes out of fashion,
books no longer my passion,
ornaments don’t suit my taste.
What a tragic wanton waste!
Shopping used to be my pleasure
but I’ve repented long at leisure
and now this drastic measure
is a charity shop’s new treasure.
I think this poem is quite good
It’s form is nicely understood.
Like you, just the same
I can’t speak its name.
Who could claim
that they could?
In answer to the Clogyrnach poem by William Preston
Day 11 – A Description Poem
Turquoise seas below azure skies,
from foaming white waves surfers rise,
surf rolls out onto golden sands,
cool ice cream cornets in kid’s hands.
Squawking seagulls menacingly
swarm as we stroll around the quay
casually, watching fishing ships
eating a pasty or fish and chips.
Grey craggy rocks still stand up proud,
as stormy waves crash, fierce and loud,
howling gales, blown from squally seas,
whip up the sands, bend windswept trees.
Cool babbling brooks that  run through bowers
in lush green gardens, full of flowers
of yellow, blue, red, mauve or peach,
turn into streams trickling down the beach.
Peace and quiet where no-one goes,
narrow lanes with wildflower hedgerows,
cliff top walks with breeze in your hair,
clotted cream teas in the fresh air.
Salty sea smells, seashells, woodsmoke,
air that blows away fumes that choke,
happy folk, laughing children too,
delights of Cornwall, in my view.
Day 12 – A Month
Who know where I will be
come next January?
Will I be still sitting here
writing, in my favourite chair?
Will my impending move
to pastures new then prove
at last to be complete?
Will I have a new seat?
Or will my house sale fall
through so I can’t move at all?
I guess I’ll have to wait and see
just where I’ll be in January.
Day 13 – A Daily Occurrence
Every night when I go to bed I pray
that I’ll still be here to live another day.
Every morning I thank my lucky stars
that I’m still alive in this world of ours.
Every day that passes by brings me
nearer to the day I move near the sea.
But every time I think that way
I realise I’m wishing my life away.
Day 14 – A Dedication Poem
I’m sorry that I’m leaving you.
You’ve bloomed so well for me it’s true
but now it’s time for me to leave
I’ll miss my garden, I believe.
I’ve taken cuttings so one day
I hope they will again display
your vibrant beauty all year round
after I’ve planted them in new ground.
Your new owners might not love you
quite in the same way that I do,
but you will hear their children play
as they run around you one day.
Your flower beds they might bypass,
they might replace gravel with grass,
they might not fill your flower tubs
they might not bother to prune shrubs.
Your life will be changed from now on
but do not miss me when I’m gone.
You’ll recover, though it’s quite plain,
like me, you’ll need to start again.
Day 15 – A Natural or Unnatural Poem
Nothing irks me more than a lawn
that’s not been mowed just right,
but worse than that is AstroTurf
which is a dreadful sight.
Give me a field of long real grass
blowing gently in the breeze,
scattered with pretty wild flowers,
food for butterflies and bees.
In my yard there’s plants and gravel.
In my new garden just grass will be.
My plants in pots will have to travel
with me when I move near the sea.
Day 16 – Play (———)
If my dog plays the fool
and won’t behave at my call
she’ll be put in the kennel.
If my kids and I play it cool
everything will be boxed and all
packed ready to travel.
If we all play our move
and solicitors don’t stall
it should easy prove.
If my buyers play for time
our house move might fail
and up the wall I’ll climb.
If lorry drivers play it fair
we will have a removal
van to take us there.
If we all play it right
we hope to be living in Cornwall
before Christmas night.
Day 17 – Paper
Paperwork, I just hate it
and so does my dog, she just ate it!
It wasn’t important
just a bank statement
but ate it she did
and that helped to get rid
of another bit of paperwork
this retired accounts clerk
will have to shred before
too much longer I’m sure.
Even in my dreams
I’ve shredded reams
and I’ve not even finished yet
I’ll be at it for weeks, I’ll bet.
I’ve a whole lifetime of paper:-
wrapping paper,
(could be useful later)
bills from the year dot,
letters that mean a lot,
unread, unopened magazines,
scrapbooks from my teens,
my old company’s monthly accounts
(with figures in huge amounts),
greetings cards, post cards,
tissue paper in yards.
It has all got to go!
It is hard I know
but it has just got to be done.
Downsizing is no fun!
Day 18 – write a poem that uses the following six words:
band, logic, pack, web, froth, clean
(You can write a sestina, villanelle, free verse, or haiku. Just be sure to use the six words in any possible combination that you can manage.)
It was logical I needed to pack
a mac, together with my best black
dress, matching hair band
and of course, my almost brand
new shoes.
In a bag they were all wrapped
but I hadn’t realised what I’d trapped
inside. My hasty actions meaning
that I had no time for cleaning
those shoes.
When I opened the bag, what a mess!
My dress had been eaten by a moth
and was covered in froth from a snail
that had died in its trail, and there was
a huge spider’s web in
my shoes.
Not submitted. This was just too hard!
Day 19 – Poem about a commonplace location
I seem to have spent enough
of this past month at the tip
throwing junk and other stuff
I don’t need in the right skip.
Plain glass goes into one bin,
brown and green in another
one is for them all mixed in,
being smashed up together.
There’s a skip where paper goes,
another for hard plastic,
several bins for old clothes
that have lost their elastic.
But you can’t put in duvets
because you will get told off
by the site foreman whose gaze
is like a hawk. He’s so gruff.
“Electrics go over there!
That does not go in landfill!
Just put that table and chair
in that corner if you will!
“I will have that old Dyson!
It can be repaired and sold
or parts sold to someone.
Hang on a bit, is that gold?”
Now my home is all bare
and I’m ready for my trip,
I’m wondering why I care
most of my life’s in the tip.
Day 20 – A poem from a saying
An Englishman’s home is his castle yet
between me and you, I haven’t got a clue
why I had this bee in my bonnet
to move my home to pastures new.
Everyone knows
I’m over three score and ten.
Stone the crows!
I must be barking mad then!
It won’t be long forsooth
before I kick the bucket. I’m
past my prime, old in the tooth,
living on borrowed time.
This girl just wants to have fun
in my life before I go.
I want seaside and sun.
Now I’m living in limbo.
I’m all at sixes and sevens
I have not slept a wink.
It’s just been panic stations.
but I am still tickled pink.
I’ve been as busy as a bee
I might now be in a tizz
but soon my home will be
in Cornwall where my heart is.
Day 21 – A thinking out loud poem
I think out loud every day
It’s because I live all alone
when my son is not here to stay
and no-one calls me on my phone.
I’m feeling quite lonely, you see,
when there’s only my dog and me.
I say I’m talking to my dog,
I don’t really talk to myself,
or I’m moaning at my laptop
or chatting to plants on the shelf.
Hot air makes most living plants grow
bigger and better, don’t you know?
Is this the first sign of madness?
It could even be, who can tell?
Because, just to prove my sadness,
I then answer myself as well!
Yes, Robert, I like dog people too
and my dog likes most people
but some people don’t like my dog
and I don’t like those people.
Day 22 – A sharing or a selfish poem
I’ve worked very hard at work all of my life,
I’ve been a good mother and a good wife,
I’ve supported my hubby with his business,
as everyone I know will surely bear witness.
When I reached nearly three score years and ten
I needed to retire from work, it was very plain.
I may have been being selfish, but I didn’t care.
I think that I had done by then much more than my share.
Now I’m home all day with no-one to think about but me
I’m wondering why I should still feel so very guilty.
Old habits die hard, I need someone to do things for
so I wonder if I was selfish when I shared myself before.
Selfishly I will be
sharing my new home
with my selfless, caring son
in the hope that he will come
to stay with me more often
when I live near the sea.
Sharing my home, you see,
he will be able to come to stay
away from the stress at work,
go surfing in Watergate Bay
and he will be able to talk
gobbledygook to me.
He won’t care that I don’t
understand his technical jargon.
He just needs to get it off his chest.
I would then need to beg his pardon
that I would not pass a later test.
That I surely won’t!
Selfishly I will be
sharing my new home
with my selfless, caring daughter
in the hope that she aught to
come stay with me more often
when I live near the sea.
She’ll get a plane
from Canada. She’ll stay longer
then she’s ever done before.
She will walk my dog along the
beach as waves roll to the shore
and flow back out again.
She won’t care that I don’t
often get dressed before ten.
She’ll be in her room with a view
working on line, rain or shine, then
she might just talk to me too.
That she surely won’t!
So am I being selfish or caring
wanting my kids to keep sharing?
Day 23 – When …………….
When I’ve moved to live near the sea
much happier my dog will be.
We’ll go for walks along the beach,
so long as waves are out of reach.
She likes to paddle in beach streams
but she’s scared of the sea it seems.
When I’ve moved to live near the sea
much happier I will be.
I’ll walk my dog up on the cliffs
enjoying the views while she sniffs
new smells in the fields she adores
as we wander above the shores.
When I’ve moved to live near the sea
much happier my kids will be.
They can work with a view all day,
they can go surfing in the bay.
They’ll visit my home more often
and rent it out after I’m gone.
Day 24 – An imitation poem
When I have died think only this of me:
that there is some part of a Cornish town
that will be forever me. There shall be
in that rich town a richer dust laid down.
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam.
Body of England’s, breathing Cornish air,
washed by the jet streams, blessed by suns of home.
And think, this house, all clutter shed away,
a seaside haven well could be, no less,
repaying back the investment given.
Her rooms could provide a dream holiday
for family or friends, with happiness
in this home, under a Cornish heaven.
With apologies to Rupert Brooke
Day 25 – A Tape Poem
Why is it that the end
of a reel of packing tape
disappears before I can bend
it back so it can’t escape?
When I was young I bought lots of vinyl:
seventy-eights, forty fives and thirty threes.
This music collection I have since doubled
with prerecorded tapes and more modern CDs.
Now I am old my radio is on all day.
My music collection sits gathering dust
while I download on my laptop more music to play,
so downsize my unneeded treasures I must.
My paperback books, I’ve got rid of those,
most of my videos have suffered rejection,
I’ve been shredding paper, shedding old clothes
but I just cannot part with my music collection.
Day 26 – A visitor poem
I’ve not see hide nor hair
of my friends for weeks
so I wonder if they care.
To me their absence speaks.
I have called them all
to invite them for a party
to say to them “Farewell,
I am going to Newquay.”
How many friends will come
all the way to visit me
when I move to my new home
in Cornwall by the sea?
Will they expect some
seaside holidays for free
or will they just come
to see my dog and me?
Day 27 – A falling apart poem
How long before new things fall apart?
Apart from a few things I’m going to start
from scratch again in my new dwelling.
Dwelling near the sea, with seagulls yelling.
Splattered and battered as it rains cats and dogs,
dogs larking about, barking at cats and frogs,
howling gales blowing snowdrifts now and then.
Then how soon before I need a new house again?
How long before new relationships fall apart?
Apart from my kids and dog no-one has my heart.
Twenty eight years ago this house was new.
I knew no-one here then, it’s very true.
I still don’t. My new neighbours all moved away.
Away from them I never wanted to stay
but things change, our lives have moved on.
On the other hand, I’m still sorry they’ve gone.
How long before my old body will fall apart?
Apart from a few aches I still feel quite smart.
My friends are leaving this world one by one.
One day before long I will also be gone.
When I moved to the house I’m now in
in nineteen eighty eight I was quite thin
but I’ve since put on weight. I now eat less.
Lesson learned. I’ll lose weight soon I guess.
How long before the world falls apart?
A part of me thinks it needs a new start.
Like me, it needs to cast old ideas out.
“Out with the old!” we need loudly to shout.
Let the sinning find a new beginning
beginning tomorrow and we’ll soon be winning.
Perhaps that’s more than we all can hope.
Hope otherwise that we all can cope.
Day 28 – I want …..
I want nothing more
than to spend my time
wandering with my dog
along the sea shore.
But I’m very sure
it’s going to be a while
that I’ll have to wait
to see what’s in store.
I want to move on
to my new abode.
By mid December I’d
hoped to have gone.
But the solicitor can’t
move any faster, she says.
She’s needs the searches
Never mind what I want.. .
For Xmas I want nothing more
than to be walking along the shore
wrapped up well, I have to say,
on a bright sunny winter’s day.
By the New Year I want to be
settled in my new home near the sea
I want to walk the cliffs above the shore
with my dog by my side, nothing more…
Day 29 – A love or hate poem
Loving the views
Of the hills and
Valleys of rural
Hating the queues
And the unfair
Time it takes to
Escape there
Once I loved the house I live  in
but now that I’ve been downsizing
it doesn’t feel like my home any more
and I cannot wait to move, for sure.
Will I love my new abode as much
as I once did my old home, as such?
Day 30 – A Last Chance Poem
I’ve spent many years in a singles group
who have always been a friendly troop.
Over the years we’ve had fun times together
at parties and barbecues, in better weather.
We’ve been to concerts, theatres, had a few
days out in gardens, in parks or the zoo,
we’ve played silly games, had chances to speak
to one another at lunches most every week.
We’ve gone on rambles, had holidays too
and welcomed more members we hardly knew.
But as we’ve grown older some have already gone
to another world, and we’ve soldiered on.
Now I am moving to pastures new
I’m throwing a party to say “adieu”.
This will probably be their last chance
for a jolly good knees-up with me, perchance.
They won’t come to visit, it’s way too far.
None of them much like driving by car
but at least they’ll be spared future heartache
of saying goodbye to me at my wake.