April PAD 2017

by | May 1, 2017 | Poetry, WritersDigest.com | 0 comments

Day 1 – Reminiscing
Day 2 – Not Today
Day 3 – ——– of Love
Day 4 – Beginning and/or Ending
Day 5 – An Element Poem
Day 6 – Poem about a sound
Day 7 – Discovery
Day 8 – Panic
Day 9 – So ——–
Day 10 – A travel poem
Day 11 – A Sonnet and/or and Anti-Form Poem
Day 12 – Guilty
Day 13 – Family
Day 14 – A popular saying poem
Day 15 – One time
Day 16 – —— System
Day 17 – Dance poem
Day 18 – Life and/or Death
Day 19 – A Memory
Day 20 – A Task Poem
Day 21 – An Object Poem
Day 22 – A Fable
Day 23 – Last ——-
Day 24 – Faith
Day 25 – Love and/or Anti-Love
Day 26 – Regrets
Day 27 – Use of 3-6 words:- pest, crack, ramble, hiccup, wince, festoon
Day 28 – Poem about a smell
Day 29 – A Metric Poem
Day 30 – The ———-

Day 1 – Reminiscing
I remember when there were no mobile phones,
no laptops, nor ipads, no overactive hormones.
Most of us poor kids had no TV,
we just listened to the “wireless”, you see,
or some of us had wind up gramophones
to listen to, with crackly tones.
I remember when there was no central heating,
and in hot summers no air conditioning.
There would be no moans or groans
when we got chilled to the bones,
as there was a roaring fire
where we’d sit to warm up, then perspire.
I remember when there were no computer games,
no trampolines, no hi-tech climbing frames.
We’d play in the woods
in coats (without hoods),
we’d use logs as pretend boats
and swing from ropes between posts.
I remember when there was no McD’s,
no pizzas, no curries and no Chinese.
Our mothers had cookery books
and they were all excellent cooks,
and dad’s home grown fruit and vegetables
always filled our dining tables.
I remember when we were all content
with food in our bellies and a house to rent.
We didn’t need designer trainers
to keep up with the Jones’ neighbours.
We felt lucky if we wore hand-me-downs
from our richer, older, now bigger cousins.
I remember those days but would I want to go back?
Only if I could take with me in a sack
all I’ve collected over the years:
the knowledge, the memories, even the tears.
What a shame I couldn’t take with me my youth,
but would I want to relive it all, in truth?
Day 2 – Not Today
The sun shone yesterday all day long.
First thing the air was filled with birdsong
until I could no longer hear it over children’s shouts
and after neighbours’ lawn mowers were all fetched out.
That was Saturday, kids were all playing outdoors,
their mums and dads were catching up with chores.
Not today. It is peaceful. There’s no-one playing:
It’s raining and all the kids indoors are staying.
I can hear birdsong again, watch the ducks on the pond
and the odd dog walker as they walk around,
and I’ll walk my dog in the rain to Lusty Glaze.
People wonder why I like rainy Sundays.
Day 3 – Room of Love
I had to downsize when I recently moved
but I couldn’t chuck out everything, it proved.
I have a small room which would suffice
for a single room or an office.
My personal and business documents
fill my desk drawers and filing cabinets
I have filled the room with things I need:
books I’ve read and have yet to read,
family photos and some of my pets,
pretty bone china animal sets,
dozens of different cuddly toys
and souvenirs given me by boys,
wedding outfits I’ve worn in the past,
keyboards I may find time to play at last,
treasured seventy eight’s and forty fives,
of singers mostly dead, some still alive,
old LP’s, more recent CD’s
and videos that fit into old TV’s.
There are boxes of games I used to play
with my group of old friends (quite recently),
old outfits I keep for fancy dress
for Halloween parties and Christmas.
There’s an old TV and an old chair,
recovered by me when it was threadbare.
There are boxes of stuff still to unpack
when I have found room, as cupboard space I lack.
There’s a feeling of peace in that room above.
I like to call it “my room of love”.
Day 4 – Beginning and/or Ending
Where to begin?
I do not know
because when I start to write
my story does grow.
Where to end?
Who can tell?
Because my characters have cast
over me their spell.
I’m stuck in the middle
and it seems to me
that the book I write
should be a trilogy.
Day 5 – An Element Poem
It’s elementary, we’re agreed,
that one of my favourite things is my lead.
It hangs on a hook out of my reach.
Mum uses it to take me to the beach.
It stretches out so I can dash
to the shallow waters for a splash,
as Mum is scared that I might drown
if I were running round on my own.
There’s a copper lives over the road I’m told
and he could be worth his weight in gold
keeping the local kiddies at bay
when they are wrecking the gardens at play.
He will very soon iron out our complaints
Day 6 – Poem about a sound
Having lived in a town
with a busy road nearby,
I just love the sound
of silence as I lie
in my bed in the early hours.
Now I live near the sea
with a duck pond nearby
and I wake up early
to hear seagulls cry
flying over this house of ours.
Then, when the kids where I live
have gone to school, it’s quiet
until they come home again
to race around and shout
and the silence is broken.
My dog and I live alone
so I don’t mind at all,
as I spend all day waiting
for someone to call
to hear human words spoken.
Day 7 – Discovery
Since moving to Cornwall
I’ve discovered a new me.
One who is laid back
and almost stress free.
Where is that uptight
person I used to be?
I left her behind
in another county.
Can it be the sea air
that has done this to me?
Or is it that my new house
is practically junk free?
Or the fact I’ve retired
it could possibly be.
Or just that this is
a laid back county.
Day 8 – Panic
That moment when
my laptop won’t connect
to the internet then
I realise my phone
has died too.
I’m out of touch.
I panic.
What can I do?
No radio, no TV,
no electricity.
Is it everywhere
or is it just me?
No street light.
That’s alright.
I’m reassured,
I panic some more.
Is it just a power cut
or have we gone to war?
Have they destroyed
the National Grid?
Or even worse,
have aliens landed?
I cannot knock
on my neighbour’s door
in the middle of the night
at half past four.
My cellphone is dead
I can’t even text
to find out
what happens next.
I bury my head in my pillow
and start counting sheep.
But sleep will not come.
I toss and turn, and weep.
I’m all alone in the world
with no communication
and aliens may have landed
or we are at war with another nation.
Into my head comes an ode.
I fetch my book of prose
and using candle light and pen
I’m starting to compose
(with counting sheep I’m bored).
Suddenly I hear a beep
and power is restored.
Finally I fall asleep.
Day 9 – So ——–
So, now I’m here by the sea
where I wanted to be,
what is there left
to motivate me?
So, now that I’ve well
and truly settled in,
what jobs can I think of
that I need to begin?
So, now that I’ve probably
retired from work finally,
what can I find to do
to occupy me?
So, I’ve tried to write
but I’m not very good
and even worse at painting
it’s well understood.
So, I’ve tinkled a tune
or two on the piano,
but at learning new pieces
I’m extremely slow.
So, to plant up my garden
is my next big goal
but I’m not strong enough
to dig a big hole
So, how do I satisfy
my desire to work?
I apply for a job again
as an office clerk!
Day 10 – A travel poem
I don’t need to travel
any more
I’ve moved where I want to be
near the sea shore
All I have to do is
use my two feet
to get to the beach or
go down the street
I get my shopping
brought to my door
and spend a lot less than
I did before
If I ever want a
change of view
I can travel on line
to be there too
I have lots of photos of
places I’ve been
and my memories soon
flood back again
So now I’m too scared to
fly on a plane
or drive our crowded roads
here I’m staying
Day 11 – A Sonnet and/or and Anti-Form Poem
I don’t like
anti-form poems
because I find them
hard to read or
although I
recognise that
some wordsmiths
can create a
poetic masterpiece
with a few choice words
but I can’t
(A sonnet has fourteen 10 syllable lines in 4 stanzas that rhyme abab, cdcd, efef, gg)
I have tossed and turned over and over,
worrying about anything, nothing
that I need to worry about ever.
I have had no sleep and it is morning.
Sun shines again through my bedroom window
to welcome me to another new day.
Mallards are squabbling on the pond below,
seagulls squawk above in their raucous way.
Sleepily I turn over, raise my head.
My sleepless night is forgotten at last.
Downstairs my dog moans gently in her bed
to remind me it is time for breakfast.
The night is over, a new day is here
and all my silly worries disappear.
Day 12 – Guilty
Having given up drinking wine for a year
I’ve drunk three bottles a week since I’ve been here
but I have hidden my guilty secret well
only local supermarket staff could tell.
I bought a box of mini-eggs for my son
but then I just couldn’t resist eating one
so now I will have to finish the whole lot
whether I really want chocolate or not.
Of my sins no-one else would ever have known
because, except for my dog, I live alone
so, with no-one here to answer to but me,
I do not know why I should feel so guilty.
Mother has been watching me since she’s been gone
and even though I am now seventy one
all I know is that I feel like I have been bad
with the secret guilty pleasures that I’ve had.
Day 13 – Family
Just me, my hubby and a stripey cat
lived in our first tiny attic flat
but then we added kids, just two
and over the years my family grew.
Three cats and two budgies joined our house,
some goldfish, a hamster and even a mouse.
A school rabbit came for a holiday
but then teacher said that she could stay.
We thought she was lonely so we got her a mate
and it wasn’t long before there were eight.
By now two budgies had become four
after building an aviary so we could have more.
Cockatiels and parakeets in every hue
and a pond full of fish joined our mini zoo,
tropical fish and terrapins we kept in tanks,
a guinea pig found trimming our grassy banks,
a tortoise that wandered through my office door,
two cheeky chipmunks that soon became four.
Three bantam hens joined our happy band
making our community life just grand
until we discovered one had started to crow
and with the noise he made, he just had to go.
But in the meantime he had produced many
which we gave away to a local sanctuary.
Eventually one by one our old pets died.
I’ve lost track of the tears I have cried.
Years ago my children both left home
to start new families of their own,
soon afterwards hubby left to start anew
so there was not much left of my little zoo.
Now I am retired my resident family
consists of my German Shepherd Dog and me
plus a few visiting garden birds and a gull
so my life has become a little dull.
What do I think that I shall now do?
Why, I might just start another little zoo.
I have tried to post this before but it does not appear
Day 14 – A popular saying poem
Things are finally going right for me
having moved home to my favourite place
I thank my guardian angel every day
and hope that I won’t ever fall from grace.
But I’m still crossing my fingers and toes
now I’m proud of being here in Cornwall
because Granny’s favourite saying goes
that usually pride comes before a fall.
Day 15 – One time
For just once in my retirement
I’d like to be able to say
I have made the very best use
I possibly can of my day
Once I used to feel satisfied
that my day at work was done well
now I seem to wander around
doing just whatever I will
Once I used to work very hard
and spend less of my time at play
now my life is always playtime
motivation has gone away
Day 16 – ——— System
I’m a creature of habit
but I like to do my own thing
so, now I’m retired, I could stay up late
and sleep in the morning
But old habits die hard
and I fall asleep before ten
and, like when I went to work,
I wake well before seven
But instead of leaping out of bed
in a frantic panic that I’ll be late
I turn on my bedroom TV
and just laze about until eight
I take my time over breakfast
and write a poem or two
then walk my dog when I feel like it
not first thing like I used to do
This casual system of mine
seems to be working well
all my stress has disappeared
as far as I can tell
Day 17 – Dance poem
bees dos-a-dos with
full blown plumes of lilac blooms
dancing in the wind
Day 18 – Life and/or Death
Come take a walk with me down Cornish country lanes,
breathe in fine fumeless smells from freshly furrowed fields,
feel the bracing sea breeze blow through your windswept hair,
wonder at the wealth of wild flowers the hedgerow yields
Go take a walk down any crowded city street,
breathe in traffic fumes even in the shopping malls,
feel claustophobic amid towering office blocks,
wonder at the graffiti on the grim grey walls
Come take a walk with me down Cornish country lanes,
breathe in fine fumeless smells from freshly furrowed fields,
feel the bracing sea breeze blow through your windswept hair,
wonder at the wealth of wild flowers the hedgerow yields.
Go take a walk down any crowded city street,
breathe in traffic fumes even in the shopping malls,
feel claustophobic amid towering office blocks,
wonder at grotty graffiti on grim grey walls.
Day 19 – A Memory
I remember my Cornwall holidays spent with my parents
and later family holidays with my kids, spent in tents,
then alone with my husband, spent in a caravan by then.
Happy memories all these past holidays have in common.
Now I am living my happy holidays all of the time
having moved to my beloved Cornwall in this house of mine.
I remember the carefree times that I spent being at school
but there is no way I would want to go back there, as a rule,
though it would be wonderful if I could try just for a day
going to the school that is just down the road not far away.
Then I could spend afternoons and holidays playing outside
in the park and woods nearby where I see the local kids hide.
Oh to be young and carefree again and to live my life here
but my life would probably turn out differently I fear.
I would never even have met the same husband that I had,
therefore my lovely children could never have had the same dad.
So I think I’ll stick with my happy family memories
and spend my retirement in the place I had my holidays.
I remember the days when
we used to talk not text
and we wrote thank you letters
to our uncles and aunts
instead of just saying “ty” or “ta”
I remember the days when
we used to relish school dinners
of meat and three veg
and we walked to school
instead of being driven by car
I remember the days when
we used to have one best dress,
the rest were cousin’s cast off clothes
and we had one pair of good shoes
instead of the latest designer trainers
I remember the days when
we used to be able to spell,
we could do sums in our heads,
and we had our heads buried in books
instead of digital entertainers
Day 20 – A Task Poem
Years ago I got rid of all my grass
because I hated doing the mowing
but now I’ve moved to a new house
with lawns that will not stop growing.
To change grass for gravel and bark
as soon as I can is my plan
but I need to do the heavy work
a reputable landscaping man.
So I emailed several companies
to find someone for the work I ask
but I’ve yet to receive any replies
from anyone who wants the task
Well, it’s a fine day with no sign of rain
so out with my mower I’ll go again.
Day 21 – An Object Poem
Bulbous staring eyes has my metal cat
wearing a really stupid looking grin.
It sits on my window sill looking out
at anyone passing by looking in.
This cat catches everyone by surprise.
It’s face and body are really grotesque
but distracts attention from prying eyes
and from me sitting working at my desk.
Day 22 – A Fable
I settled down at my work table
well intending to write a fable
but my attention it was captured
by my vista. I was enraptured.
Soon two boys they started annoying
as, while shrubbery they were destroying
and pulling out rushes from the lake,
the boys were confronted with a snake.
One boy jumped, the other one fell in,
and I just could not suppress my grin
as he climbed out all covered in silt
showing foul evidence of his guilt.
The boys, they went home to face their dad
leaving me again the view I’d had.
I owe a lot to that plastic snake
that I’d hidden in shrubs by the lake.
Day 23 – Last ——-
I have inherited a cast iron last, used in the past
for fitting in the shoe industry after clicking and closing,
but very useful it has since been to me, fittingly
used as a doorstop to keep my door from closing.
“Look thy last on all things lovely,
Every hour”
quoth Walter de La Mare
and that is what I try to do
now that I live here.
From my front windows I can see
a garden bower,
at which I sit and stare.
Fields and trees are in my view too
and close by a mere.
Birds are gathering in a tree
bursting into flower.
From the woods springs a hare.
A distant sound, too-wit, too-woo,
in daytime I hear.
Ponies in nearby fields run free.
Giant poplars tower
above oaks over there.
Ducks come flying in to outdo
moorhens on the mere…
…I’ll probably never get to
write my book,
time here passes so fast
because every hour I stop to
take a look
in case it is my last.
Day 24 – Faith
I absolutely believe
when this earth I leave
there will be a place for me
somewhere I can be free
but if I have to come back
because my record was black
in my next life I’ll behave
so I can lie at peace in my grave
Day 25 – Love and/or Anti-Love
I don’t write poems about love
nor do I write poems about hate.
I’d rather have a dog for a friend
than spend time finding another mate.
Day 26 – Regrets
I just have to say I have no regrets
I’ve enjoyed my life, having lots of pets,
I’ve spent my life always hedging my bets.
I’ve endeavoured to achieve my targets.
But, maybe there are words I should have said,
maybe taken different men to bed,
maybe not walked the safest road ahead,
maybe taken more holidays instead.
If I’d spoken before it was too late,
would that have actually changed my fate?
If I could have been another man’s wife,
would I have actually liked that life?
If I had taken more risky chances,
would that have improved my circumstances?
If I could have spent less money, maybe,
but then I really just wouldn’t be me.
Day 27 – Use of 3-6 words:- pest, crack, ramble, hiccup, wince, festoon
On a Cornish country ramble was I,
admiring flowers festooning the hedge,
happily thinking of nothing at all.
A pest embedded itself in my eye
as I peered through a crack on the ledge
of a pretty tumble-down cottage wall.
A pub appeared as it started to rain
where I wandered in for a bite and brew
but I couldn’t see too well in the gloam.
Rubbing my eyes gently I winced in pain.
Then after consuming a glass or two
I walked hiccupping all the way back home.
Day 28 – Poem about a smell
My mother lost her sense of smell
neither could she taste very well
which was awful as she loved food
and nothing to her tasted good.
My dad never had sense of smell
neither could he hear very well.
He wasn’t bothered what he ate
but he would eat all on his plate.
Like Jack Sprat my father was lean,
mother once much slimmer had been.
Dad did crosswords, did rarely talk,
Mum liked gardens and her dog walk.
I inherited mother’s looks
and both my parents’ love of books
I do crosswords, but talk a lot,
I walk my dog, garden my plot.
As older I get more I find
traits in me that serve to remind
of my parents, both good and bad.
It seems I’m like both Mum and Dad.
Like Dad, I find it hard to hear,
my eyesight’s getting worse, it’s clear.
I wonder if in years to come
I’ll lose my sense of smell, like Mum.
I love the smell on Cornish cliffs
of fresh salty air from the sea
with the wind blowing through my hair.
That just seems like Heaven to me.
I love smells on Cornish beaches
of barnacle clad rocks and seaweed
with sea swept sand beneath my feet.
That to me is a treat indeed.
I love smells in Cornish harbours
of fresh fish, oily boats and ships,
walking around the quayside
with a portion of fish and chips.
I love smells in Cornish byways
of freshly ploughed fields and flowers
with no traffic noise or fumes
to pollute those leafy bowers.
I love smells in Cornish tearooms
of freshly ground coffee and cake,
with the home grown giant strawberries
in the clotted cream teas they make.
I love smells of Cornish pasties
from village shops as I pass by
I just can’t resist buying one
before I have to say goodbye.
I love the smells in Cornish woods
of wild garlic and of bluebells
walking beside a babbling brook.
In fact I love all Cornwall’s smells.
Day 29 – A Metric Poem
I’m still trying to get used to meters
instead of an inch, a foot and a yard
I know a meter is a yard and a bit
but smaller measurements are hard.
I learned measurements
way back in school
I can picture an inch,
about as big as a pinch,
and as a rule
a foot is about
as big as my dad’s.
A yard wide
would be a wide stride
and a mile to me
is as far as I can see.
But millimeters, centimeters
and meters just confuse.
They really are not much use.
Eighteen hundred mm
were shorter than my six foot
fence panel. Hmmm!
Six hundred mm were
short of two feet,
the width of my
kitchen cabinets
which then did not meet.
When they were changed
there was a gap.
And what on earth
does a kilometer
look like on a map?
But whether we Brexit or not
we’re stuck with most of these measurements
over here
and if they vote to change miles to kilometers
I hope the powers that be say
“No fear!”
Day 30 – The ———
I wouldn’t be British if I
didn’t mention the weather
but why has it waited until
today to rain?
Travelling here all the way from
Canada is my daughter
for sea and sunshine. She’s landing
now in her plane.
For weeks it’s been dry as a bone,
my garden’s had no water,
so why did it wait ’til today
to rain again?