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Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)



Their relationship was framed
from the start with faulty lumber,
knotted, warped rail and stile.
The communicants were

held together by pounding
nail-like expectations on the back
side in the hope the marriage door
would survive years of opening

to sounds of life and productivity.
But slamming insults, scowls and
falsehoods prove all connections
are deader than a doornail.

(60 words)

Resisting Love

Unsure; he stood alone amidst the crowd
and felt as lonely as a starless night -
?till over time, his fear became his shroud.
So sad - he never realized his plight.

She saw him from her safe (but distant) mind,
not wanting to approach for fear he?d laugh
dismissively, or worse, perhaps she?d find
him courteous... perhaps, she?d risk a gaffe.

A momentary thought flashed through her head:
?Let?s pretend to be in love, shall we,?
but quickly let it fizzle out - instead
of acting out a role she couldn?t see.

Emotions? wings can?t spread and fly at all
when butterflies are straight-pinned to a wall.

(110 words)

twenty five years, I Get it
twenty five years , your disappointed
twenty five years you cant watch me eat
twenty five years i get salad
twenty five years you all eat pizza
twenty five years i should be a ashamed
twenty five years i am lazy
twenty five years what a sight
twenty five years size 18
twenty five years hate beach season
twenty five year i did not have a baby
twenty five years little friends
twenty five years people teasing
twenty five years you told me so
twenty five years i could be more
twenty five years never enough
twenty five years i learned to hate myself
under you careful direction
twenty five years i had little friends
because you made me believe i didn't deserve them
skinny girls get boys skinny girls get liked
skinny girls gets jobs, a puppy, jeans and apparently a mothers approval
Twenty five years screw your opinions
Twenty five years i love my mirror image
Twenty five years my friends are few
Twenty five years my friends are true
Twenty five years this is my body
Twenty five years this is my life
Twenty five years you will not own me any more
Twenty five years you will not make me cry
Twenty five years twenty five years
Twenty five years I AM BEAUTIFUL

(223 words)
Martina Dansereau

Here Is The Aspen Tree

He says fuck you, queer
and the words roll down my spine like a tractor
plowing away at my dirt-and-stone
pride, catching the roots of the budding flowers sown
into my heart and tearing them out of the earth. You and I
had gardened for a long time before those flowers had sprouted.
I remember sitting with you in the
early hours of morning and
trying to plot the land, eyeing the pothole-weed-rock terrain
and sketching how to make
something beautiful out of these disasters we called our
identities, reaping parts of ourselves
until they crumbled into sand. We have a lot of work to do,
you said, and so we marched through cities
and took back the night, painting ?queer? across wind-roughened
cheeks and stamping ?dyke? on lips tasting of stale smoke and chapstick.
Behind the wall of reclaimed slurs, we planted seeds that we hoped
would grow into a forest.
Here is the aspen tree, here is
the birch, here is something
unrecognizable that we made out of the shadows. There
are the tulips we whispered out of the ground, softly. There, our
orchards that we had worked to cultivate from
these pieces of ourselves that we have only just begun to understand,
carving ourselves homes out of unfamiliarity.
You and I are walking in the city when he
comes up from behind, says fuck you, queer
and spits at our feet. You take my hand and try
to squeeze me strength
but here is the aspen tree
and here it is falling, and
there petals are shedding as the flowers-turned-glass shards pierce
through skin, splitting open, bleeding inwards.
We tried to grow forests,
but men cut them down.

(286 words)


Why do you pause? Why?
Spurn His love, His salve no more
you cracked, sooted hearts.

(17 words)


Papers to grade, lessons to prep,
Books sit closed on the shelves.
Laundry piling up, floors to vacuum,
And the dishes won?t wash themselves.
The grass is getting too tall
But the mower is out of gas.
Free movie channels on the dish,
That I must watch while they last.
I should go out and buy groceries,
And I must answer my mom?s letter.
But the bed feels so very soft,
And the comfy couch is even better.

William Skinner -- Spring Break, 2015

(85 words)
Elizabeth V


You tap
on my metal suit
tap tap tap

Like ice
knocking against
the hard glass

of my bedroom
your iron fisted words
cannot ram

down the door.
I will not break.
Don?t you know

that bangs and clatters
carry no weight
against my armor?

Spring knows the answer:
a soft word
will melt the snow.

(57 words)
Roxanna Watrous

I can't resist that one last comment.
I can't resist the look that gives me chase.
When I see your temples throb
and watch red steam across your face.
That's when I know it's coming
and prepare for my attack.
I'll spin my words from straw
straight of a broken camel's back.
Then I'll use each point
to stab and stoke a flame
until I smile at the inferno
and accept my happy blame.

(74 words)

Gray Resistance

The brain resists
what the heart can?t hold
I hear-We lost Daddy
I ask-Where
Cling to the
last second with Dad

Marian Foster

(25 words)

L. Anne Wooley

You must set me FREE
The box you try to put me in,
I will not STAY

The truth will not set you free
For nobody agrees what is true
And what is false

Topsy Turvy it?s become
Common sense, reason, logic
Abandoned by the powerful.

The weak get weaker,
Until they have no
Power at all.

It?s supposed to be the meek
Who inherit the Earth,
Not the Earth raping, power hungry
False GODS!.

Resistance is futile.

(86 words)
julie e.


She?s holding on to letting go
of years they spent as one?
?one up? (she?s down)
?one thought? (not hers)
?one promise? (broken daily.)
She?s letting go of holding on
for one more day
(she can?t.)

(37 words)


It was the resistance of the belt against her jugular vein that made her realize the noose never held the answer.
It only held all of the problems that had brought her there in the first place.

S. G. K I L B R I D E

(54 words)

Really like this one!

(4 words)

Ode to Neurosis

You provide the irrational worry,
A snake that ensnares and suffocates me;
You make my old mole a melanoma,
Locking the front door an epic saga.

You help me misuse imagination,
So the restroom is a boiling cauldron;
You supply the unease that turns a twinge
Into the stab of an addict?s syringe.

You fill my mind with ridiculous thoughts
That twist my guts into byzantine knots;
You whisper warnings in my trembling ear:
I have unknown enemies far and near!

You distort my logic to something strange?
A measured spirit you seek to derange.
If I?m caught without sanitizer gel,
A restaurant meal morphs to frightful hell.

You generously transfer through my genes,
So my sons can know what neurosis means;
I?ve detected you in nascent state,
Which attaches guilt to my psychic weight.

Unlike the uplift hopeful words can bring,
Your heat will melt the fabric of our wings;
I pray your ceaseless noise will go away,
Yet I fear, in my blood, your din shall stay.

Ron Hodges

(174 words)
Bonniejean Alford

The Dream, The Promise
by bonniejean alford

A dream promised in times long gone by,
when freedom was the foundation.
A dream un-realized, even as we stand un-united,
bound by the chains of collective violence.
A dream, a dream, the dream.

The right to dream
is built on broken promises and stolen freedoms.
Hatred, difference,
skewing the world.

One vision of ugly shatters the dream.
We must dare to dream;
dare not to dream?

Expected conformity
with lies and injustice as our guide.
Truth, the right to truth
is built on broken backs,
un-free, in a world of mere dreams.

Love forgotten
in the actions of evil.
Life, sweet life,
lost at the hands of hate.
Accepted hate, the new reality
in a world gone awry.

Scattered truths stealing the dream
from the future;
from the present.
Un-certainty of time.
And the dream is lost.

Dare it be said,
an impossible non-reality,
even as we stand blind,
bound in the memories of false freedoms.
The dream is un-known.
As friendships part,
a sea of anger remains.
As hate wins out over love,
broken promises of a better tomorrow
stand as testimony to yesterday.

A conviction of heart
lost without a dream,
without the dream,
existing only in a sea of confusion,
of difference highlighted as evil.

Co-existence impossible
without the dream as guide.
Injustice cannot prevail,
but fear controls
and the dream stands un-fulfilled.

Alone instead of united,
this is where we stand
with anger in our hearts
and blood on our hands.
Innocence lost over misunderstandings
built on generations of lies.

The dream, dare we say,
It was never possible.
Dare we say,
that we can still hope
for the dream to be realized,
for the freedom to simply love.

Sadness sets in.
The world without a dream,
an ugly place without hope,
without a chance for survival.

Tomorrow cannot be
if we do not own today.
Even as the fires are set,
the glimmer of the dream that once was
still permeates this existence.

As we stand,
tears fallen for a symbol of change un-warranted;
A heart trapped,
in a world built on judgement rather than acceptance.
Love un-invited,
with hate the only guest.

The dream is lost
to the corruption of the un-corruptible.
Promises of a united front
fall violently at the hands of those
who never knew unification.

Eons of lies as truth
invade the space that is now our world,
our truth.

Dare we continue to dream
in a world that steals the good
and hides the hope
in the blood of children.

Death to the dream,
not a path we should take indeed.
Yet, here we are
having placed the dream on death row,
even without a trial,
let alone a conviction.

And yet, this is the new truth,
the new reality:
United we do not stand;
Allegiance to nothing;
Self indulgence and the path of least resistance
have killed the dream,
will kill the dream again.

The voices of change go un-heard.
We are invisible. We must be,
or the dream would not remain in the shadows,
locked away from possibility.

Life, sweet life,
existing without faith.
And yet, we still exist.
Must this mean the dream survives?
?Strong enough?? We must wonder.

For the next battle will define us all.

The dream calls for love united,
despite difference,
despite the lies of yesterday,
despite the broken trusts,
despite the abandoned promises of freedom.

The dream is not just a better tomorrow,
but a better today.
We must kill the hate
not the love,
not the dream.
For that is the promise the dream demands.

(604 words)

"On changing things out of your control"

I've seen anguish on million of faces
but I've never heard anyone with plans to do anything about it.

Obama? Yes. I remember those days.
The post-war/Guantanamo days that never came,
like customers to daughter America's kool-aid stand.

A simple enough slogan that really sums up the status of our country.
I mean that must have really hit home.
I mean we all mean well.
But the only change is this week's retail.

I'm sure any of the Franklins would be disappointed, Benjamin, Roosevelt, Pierce.
Pragmatic like Charles, or cardinal like tierce.
And a secret revealed is a secret unsafe,
but we aren't either, not even from our state.

'Let's see what happens when I play god'
I'd do the same.
Piercing like Paul - game 1 in '08.
To the Corinthians, Thessalonians, Galatians the same,
Post game proclaim we'll win on the road.

Well I've been on the road for a while now And I need some "change" to pay my toll.

- Gregory William Goodrich

(178 words)
Bonniejean Alford

The Dream, The Promise
by bonniejean alford

A dream promised in times long gone by,
when freedom was the foundation.
A dream un-realized, even as we stand un-united,
bound by the chains of collective violence.
A dream, a dream, the dream.

The right to dream
is built on broken promises and stolen freedoms.
Hatred, difference,
skewing the world.

One vision of ugly shatters the dream.
We must dare to dream;
dare not to dream?

Expected conformity
with lies and injustice as our guide.
Truth, the right to truth
is built on broken backs,
un-free, in a world of mere dreams.

Love forgotten
in the actions of evil.
Life, sweet life,
lost at the hands of hate.
Accepted hate, the new reality
in a world gone awry.

Scattered truths stealing the dream
from the future;
from the present.
Un-certainty of time.
And the dream is lost.

Dare it be said,
an impossible non-reality,
even as we stand blind,
bound in the memories of false freedoms.
The dream is un-known.
As friendships part,
a sea of anger remains.
As hate wins out over love,
broken promises of a better tomorrow
stand as testimony to yesterday.

A conviction of heart
lost without a dream,
without the dream,
existing only in a sea of confusion,
of difference highlighted as evil.

Co-existence impossible
without the dream as guide.
Injustice cannot prevail,
but fear controls
and the dream stands un-fulfilled.

Alone instead of united,
this is where we stand
with anger in our hearts
and blood on our hands.
Innocence lost over misunderstandings
built on generations of lies.

The dream, dare we say,
It was never possible.
Dare we say,
that we can still hope
for the dream to be realized,
for the freedom to simply love.

Sadness sets in.
The world without a dream,
an ugly place without hope,
without a chance for survival.

Tomorrow cannot be
if we do not own today.
Even as the fires are set,
the glimmer of the dream that once was
still permeates this existence.

As we stand,
tears fallen for a symbol of change un-warranted;
A heart trapped,
in a world built on judgement rather than acceptance.
Love un-invited,
with hate the only guest.

The dream is lost
to the corruption of the un-corruptible.
Promises of a united front
fall violently at the hands of those
who never knew unification.

Eons of lies as truth
invade the space that is now our world,
our truth.

Dare we continue to dream
in a world that steals the good
and hides the hope
in the blood of children.

Death to the dream,
not a path we should take indeed.
Yet, here we are
having placed the dream on death row,
even without a trial,
let alone a conviction.

And yet, this is the new truth,
the new reality:
United we do not stand;
Allegiance to nothing;
Self indulgence and the path of least resistance
have killed the dream,
will kill the dream again.

The voices of change go un-heard.
We are invisible. We must be,
or the dream would not remain in the shadows,
locked away from possibility.

Life, sweet life,
existing without faith.
And yet, we still exist.
Must this mean the dream survives?
?Strong enough?? We must wonder.

For the next battle will define us all.

The dream calls for love united,
despite difference,
despite the lies of yesterday,
despite the broken trusts,
despite the abandoned promises of freedom.

The dream is not just a better tomorrow,
but a better today.
We must kill the hate
not the love,
not the dream.
For that is the promise the dream demands.

(604 words)
Bonniejean Alford

"The Dream, The Promise"
by bonniejean alford

A dream promised in times long gone by,
when freedom was the foundation.
A dream un-realized, even as we stand un-united,
bound by the chains of collective violence.
A dream, a dream, the dream.

The right to dream
is built on broken promises and stolen freedoms.
Hatred, difference,
skewing the world.

One vision of ugly shatters the dream.
We must dare to dream;
dare not to dream?

Expected conformity
with lies and injustice as our guide.
Truth, the right to truth
is built on broken backs,
un-free, in a world of mere dreams.

Love forgotten
in the actions of evil.
Life, sweet life,
lost at the hands of hate.
Accepted hate, the new reality
in a world gone awry.

Scattered truths stealing the dream
from the future;
from the present.
Un-certainty of time.
And the dream is lost.

Dare it be said,
an impossible non-reality,
even as we stand blind,
bound in the memories of false freedoms.
The dream is un-known.
As friendships part,
a sea of anger remains.
As hate wins out over love,
broken promises of a better tomorrow
stand as testimony to yesterday.

A conviction of heart
lost without a dream,
without the dream,
existing only in a sea of confusion,
of difference highlighted as evil.

Co-existence impossible
without the dream as guide.
Injustice cannot prevail,
but fear controls
and the dream stands un-fulfilled.

Alone instead of united,
this is where we stand
with anger in our hearts
and blood on our hands.
Innocence lost over misunderstandings
built on generations of lies.

The dream, dare we say,
It was never possible.
Dare we say,
that we can still hope
for the dream to be realized,
for the freedom to simply love.

Sadness sets in.
The world without a dream,
an ugly place without hope,
without a chance for survival.

Tomorrow cannot be
if we do not own today.
Even as the fires are set,
the glimmer of the dream that once was
still permeates this existence.

As we stand,
tears fallen for a symbol of change un-warranted;
A heart trapped,
in a world built on judgement rather than acceptance.
Love un-invited,
with hate the only guest.

The dream is lost
to the corruption of the un-corruptible.
Promises of a united front
fall violently at the hands of those
who never knew unification.

Eons of lies as truth
invade the space that is now our world,
our truth.

Dare we continue to dream
in a world that steals the good
and hides the hope
in the blood of children.

Death to the dream,
not a path we should take indeed.
Yet, here we are
having placed the dream on death row,
even without a trial,
let alone a conviction.

And yet, this is the new truth,
the new reality:
United we do not stand;
Allegiance to nothing;
Self indulgence and the path of least resistance
have killed the dream,
will kill the dream again.

The voices of change go un-heard.
We are invisible. We must be,
or the dream would not remain in the shadows,
locked away from possibility.

Life, sweet life,
existing without faith.
And yet, we still exist.
Must this mean the dream survives?
?Strong enough?? We must wonder.

For the next battle will define us all.

The dream calls for love united,
despite difference,
despite the lies of yesterday,
despite the broken trusts,
despite the abandoned promises of freedom.

The dream is not just a better tomorrow,
but a better today.
We must kill the hate
not the love,
not the dream.
For that is the promise the dream demands.

(604 words)
Bonniejean Alford

"The Dream, The Promise"
by bonniejean alford

A dream promised in times long gone by,
when freedom was the foundation.
A dream un-realized, even as we stand un-united,
bound by the chains of collective violence.
A dream, a dream, the dream.

The right to dream
is built on broken promises and stolen freedoms.
Hatred, difference,
skewing the world.

One vision of ugly shatters the dream.
We must dare to dream;
dare not to dream?

Expected conformity
with lies and injustice as our guide.
Truth, the right to truth
is built on broken backs,
un-free, in a world of mere dreams.

Love forgotten
in the actions of evil.
Life, sweet life,
lost at the hands of hate.
Accepted hate, the new reality
in a world gone awry.

Scattered truths stealing the dream
from the future;
from the present.
Un-certainty of time.
And the dream is lost.

Dare it be said,
an impossible non-reality,
even as we stand blind,
bound in the memories of false freedoms.
The dream is un-known.
As friendships part,
a sea of anger remains.
As hate wins out over love,
broken promises of a better tomorrow
stand as testimony to yesterday.

A conviction of heart
lost without a dream,
without the dream,
existing only in a sea of confusion,
of difference highlighted as evil.

Co-existence impossible
without the dream as guide.
Injustice cannot prevail,
but fear controls
and the dream stands un-fulfilled.

Alone instead of united,
this is where we stand
with anger in our hearts
and blood on our hands.
Innocence lost over misunderstandings
built on generations of lies.

The dream, dare we say,
It was never possible.
Dare we say,
that we can still hope
for the dream to be realized,
for the freedom to simply love.

Sadness sets in.
The world without a dream,
an ugly place without hope,
without a chance for survival.

Tomorrow cannot be
if we do not own today.
Even as the fires are set,
the glimmer of the dream that once was
still permeates this existence.

As we stand,
tears fallen for a symbol of change un-warranted;
A heart trapped,
in a world built on judgement rather than acceptance.
Love un-invited,
with hate the only guest.

The dream is lost
to the corruption of the un-corruptible.
Promises of a united front
fall violently at the hands of those
who never knew unification.

Eons of lies as truth
invade the space that is now our world,
our truth.

Dare we continue to dream
in a world that steals the good
and hides the hope
in the blood of children.

Death to the dream,
not a path we should take indeed.
Yet, here we are
having placed the dream on death row,
even without a trial,
let alone a conviction.

And yet, this is the new truth,
the new reality:
United we do not stand;
Allegiance to nothing;
Self indulgence and the path of least resistance
have killed the dream,
will kill the dream again.

The voices of change go un-heard.
We are invisible. We must be,
or the dream would not remain in the shadows,
locked away from possibility.

Life, sweet life,
existing without faith.
And yet, we still exist.
Must this mean the dream survives?
?Strong enough?? We must wonder.

For the next battle will define us all.

The dream calls for love united,
despite difference,
despite the lies of yesterday,
despite the broken trusts,
despite the abandoned promises of freedom.

The dream is not just a better tomorrow,
but a better today.
We must kill the hate
not the love,
not the dream.
For that is the promise the dream demands.

(604 words)

Shiver in the early morning
Bask in warm afternoons
Spring, the Delightful Trickster

Caught between Winter?s resistance
to leave and Summer?s eagerness,
Spring flirts and teases
sweeping pollen in her skirts

(31 words)
Siofra Alexander

Roses from my sister?s wedding

sit on the kitchen counter
drying as they die
the color drains
red to brown

I encourage their death
tie them together
hang them upside down
I wake to their crisp petals on the floor
crumbling under my feet
as I step on them

I couldn?t willingly throw them away

and you question if this is my will
resistant to conformity
when really
it is my resistance
to giving into the notion
that my flesh is as delicate
as the fabric of rose petals

- Sofra Alexander

(92 words)

Resisting One Another

Long ago I still recall
when you approached
my every wall,
Fearlessly you melted them all
then tenderly
you caught my fall.

You heard the language of my heart,
speaking it fluently from the start

You claimed my soul for your own,
Which forbidded another
to make it their home.

I've tried with all my will power
I've put up one hell of a fight,
Still I'm unsuccessful
though I've used up all my might.

Trying to rid myself
of your embedded seal,
You branded me
then stranded me
while sharing what I feel.

So much I wish I'd not remember,
This love between us
so sweet and tender.

It's magical and magnetic
the way it lures us in,
Sometimes no words are spoken
but yet so much is said.

Both of us can hear it
and oh what a beautiful sound,
Wanting so much to stay and to play
but reality brings us down.

It drops us like the highest high
while the bitterness creeps in,
There we chose to lose
as we stand back and let them win,
Here we are...
on hold again...
This is the story
Of me and him.

-Katie Lynn-

(199 words)
Shaindel Beers

Resistance is Futile

Don?t you want your students to meet
the benchmarks? You want to give them
an authentic learning experience, don?t you?
You need to backward-design your curriculum
using your attendant rubrics. Nothing can be done until
you define your goals and design your assessments.
This is a positive climate! Every student matters,
every moment counts. Everyone a learner, every day.
We are striving for inclusive excellence, but that depends
upon your grit. You might have to flip your classroom
to meet the performance standards we need to see.
Could you unpack that a little more?
I?m afraid I didn?t get that entered into the Learning Outcomes
Module. I can?t allow you to do that. I don?t see it listed
anywhere on your IEP. I am not a ?teacher?; I?m an engaged,
leadership driven data wall. I didn?t achieve these results
just by accident. I am a firm believer in regular reviews of results
followed by laser-focused learning. I know. The Enterprise
Reporting Tool told me. Am I being transparent here?
I need to know because as soon as I leave, you are accountable
for your classroom data collection on your adequately yearly progress.
How will you address their non-cognitive factors?
Will you be meeting their core competencies?
How are we going to define success?
I am not feeling very synergetic. Do I have to modularize
everything for you? You?re going to need to be more proactive.
You?ll have to come back after completing your Learning
Readiness Indicator. Until then, I?m afraid
I can?t help you. You see, you?re missing the code,
and all that comes up is an error message. I know. I am
the daughter of the Strategic Planning Online Library.
I came out of the cloud myself.

(291 words)

The future pushes back
Every time I peer ahead
I cannot read the signs and symbols,
Confirmations pointing the way
Dear God, make them more obvious.

(27 words)

Le Resistance
The war dragged on for so very long
While I searched for you in so very many places,
Always looking for my heart?s twin
Ever reaching for that hand to grasp mine
The way yours had so many years ago.

What could I do but search and look and
Take chances with my heart,
Chances that forged walls around my life
And froze my heart within their confines.

I may have loved?who is to say?
Who can penetrate the costumes and
Dodges and jobs taken on that cemented
Said wall in place whilst the war waged
Outside, fitting and starting, overrunning
All territories, eventually even mine.

We give in to the day to day requirements
Of sanity ? I did. And was alone for many
Months before a knock on the door
Brought news of war?s end.

What had I done or not done?
What had I said or not said?
Whose voice might come to my ears
Once the guns stopped at last?

(166 words)

What I Can Never Say

You are waltz-blue slow song swirling
beautiful as melted stars,

summer picnics
and lazy Sundays
twirling under patchwork clouds.

I have tasted every answer,
loved apple pie and cotton candy, while
you dreamed only maple taffy, sitting sweet
forever on your tongue.

Julie Germain

(49 words)
Kelly Ramsdell Fineman

Frost-cold earth
makes planting rough
sharpened spade-
still shoveling's tough.
Peas to plant
now that it's spring.
this gardening.

(20 words)

Resisting the Sickness

?I?m not sick, I?m not,?
I say to my stuffy-nosed self in the mirror
But already my breath has begun to rot
Of Hall?s menthol-flavored cough drops.

I shuffle through the hallway then walk to my bed,
Grabbing a tissue on the way there.
I?m sure it?s only just in my head,
I think as I nibble on a stale piece of bread.

ACHOO! I sneeze. ?Darned allergies.
It?s probably just dusty in here.?
So I open up a window to let in a breeze,
And welcome in all of the moths and the bees.

I shiver as all of the insects fly in
The sounds of spring are music to my ears
And the smell of the garden makes me grin
As I feel the goose pimples prickle my skin

I hear just then, a rap at my door
So I hop into bed, and pull up my sheets. ?Oh dear,?
Mom says, as my books hit the floor.
She erroneously thinks that I look quite poor.

She sits on the side of my flower-print bed.
?Honey, I think you?ve got quite a fever,?
She says as she places her hand to my forehead.
?You really should go back to bed. You hear what I said??

?Yeah mom, whatever,? I begrudgingly say
?It?s not quite as bad as it may appear.?
But Mom shakes her head, and says, ?What a great play,
But my actress should really be snorting some spray.?

?Fine,? I grunt, and then grab the saline
Put it to use, toss it with my sick gear,
Then fall on the bed that?s less than clean
And in an instant, I fade from the scene.

Now don?t you dare think, after you read this,
That I?m actually sick, and down with a fever. I?m cleared
From every sickness that will always exist
So please let me pass into a sleep of pure bliss.

(319 words)

Watching Artemesia II

As for the knowing, there was once
a timeless honor in mutual solitude
coupled with
but separate from
was what we worked for
The Joining was to be feared?
the soldering iron that burned
through the flesh of our mothers,
the religious devotion that married
unsuspecting women
to their jailers.

We are past that now, we?d said.

Before, we hated God and Noah
for every movie-theater pairing
the couples kissing on a park bench
the loss of all our friends
to left-handed Pisces musicians
and uncircumcised waiters with webbed feet
or third nipples
for the borrowed rib that kept us incomplete
endlessly coupling

still we resist, until one day, we cannot resist
the joining and un-joining are all that is,
ever was, will be.

remembering now the clever linguist
brought to my attention by a
middle-aged spelling teacher fresh from divorce
?separation? she said, always contains ?a rat.?

(151 words)

What was he thinking,
standing there on the hot asphalt?
His white shirt;
crisp, clean, with no wrinkles,
tucked neatly into his long black pants.
He stood alone
in the middle of the street,
a bag or briefcase in his hand.
On any other day,
in any other place,
he would pass by

But that day was different.
The road was not filled
with people or cars;
but a single line of tanks
that rumbled and roared
toward the square.

What was he thinking
stepping in front of the line
and halting the menacing procession?
He kept them there,
placing his body
between the tanks
and the square
for almost thirty minutes.
Before he was pulled away
and disappeared.

We may never know
what he was thinking.
We don't even know his name.
All we have is the picture
of a man,
stopping the world.

(148 words)


I place my fingers on your lips
to stench the flow of verity from you
the grim reaper in your white cloak
with your monotone words

and blurry pictures no one can see
except for you
A mistake I plead
No you say it can?t be
you must accept the reality
of the situation
you face and the creation
of a treatment plan
to save you maybe we can

If we begin the day again
You can?t say those words
that can?t be undone
that make a lie of me
We?ll undo it before it is done

(new to all this and missed day one so had to go back! enjoying everyone's work)

(114 words)

Departure Poem-day 4

Storybook Love
He's like a good book that I just can't put down.
I keep turning the pages and discovering new insights, twist, and turns.
The words jump off the pages and leave me breathless; wanting more and not able to get enough.
The storyline is compelling, invigorating, and pulls me in with each blotted ink spot.
I have not the willpower to close its pages. I hold its bindings carefully in my hands, loving the feel of its spine and scent of its skin.
I don't know how the story will end; nor do I want it to.
By: Pamelap

(104 words)

Resisting the Present

His father died

It?s been almost a year
he still speaks of him
only in present tense

Telling stories
as if he could call and share in the laughter
as if nothing had changed
as if the void could be avoided

I notice every time


Because it?s hard
to let go
deal with the grief
face the world, the same
forever different?

Or it?s easy
to keep
close to your chest
the knowing secret?

They don?t have to know, you know
on the other end of your story
that you?re the son of a dead man


Because daily life goes on much the same
with or without him
or memories of him
or stories that arise
still fresh on your mind

The gift
of resisting the present

(133 words)

She Knew

Maybe it takes more strength to let go.
She knew.
Deep down she knew
but she still clung onto the rotting carcass
holding down her soul
the smell permeating through each step she took.
She knew.
Knew it more than the knot in her chest,
more than the tears in her eyes
the sob that she chocked down her throat.
She knew.
But the weight of her burden
Clawed through her skin
tore into her veins
And lived.
As she continued to.

(84 words)

Shall I resist this challenge
Never a team player when it comes to art

Where art thou
Though when it comes to creation

Kindly remind me why we play these games
No, not poetry -- everything


We resist at the sign of fear
Fear resides when there is resistance to

Grace me dear reader with your eyes
and I shall try to honor your intelligence

Resist me for there is no joy here
just these dangling blue words

Drown with me

(82 words)

Sorry I am posting late but I am just starting PAD today. I hope to caught up with the other two prompts tomorrow. Mine for today incorporates the path of least resistance.


Remember that long ago summer we spent
at Ocean City? You must have been no more
than six and you sat on the edge of the shore
shore letting the waves wash up against you,
pushing you back further and further, giggling,
while your older sister cried about the salty
sea water stinging her eyes. Later you splashed
and swam and floated along, refusing to come
out of the water to apply more sunscreen. It
took the approach of a severe storm to get
you out. I knew then you were a little fish.

They say what is a fish without a river?
Even the sockeye migrates from the depths
of the ocean to the upper reaches of the river
where it was born, constantly swimming
upstream, never knowing the path of least
resistance. From the time your mother?s
water broke and you left the womb, life
starting pushing you around. The insertion
of ear tubes never did clear up your hearing;
it only got worse as time passed. And Murphy
seemed to be your best friend through the years,
but you kept swimming along the best you could,
a sockeye forging onward, fighting the rapids.

Two decades later and ocean separates us.
We chat online and I show you photos of places
I?ve been. One day, after returning home from
Bamberg, where the Old Town Hall is built smack
in the middle of the river and 19th century fisherman?s
houses line the one side, I got the call- about you,
about how they found your body, red and lifeless,
like a stagnant sockeye stuck on the edge of a gravel
river bed, energy spent. It?s hard to believe you're gone
and I grieve not only the loss of you and all that will
never be but also the fact that you never fulfilled
your greatest desire in life?to become a father.

Linda Hofke

(347 words)

I Still Love You

No, stop - I whisper but no one hears
My hands are moving frantically
but the rest of me is still
My lips move to tell you ?I still love you?
I cough to cover the pathetic confession up
Your eyes look my way but I force myself to drop your gaze,
I hear your laugh, your sneeze
I smell your smell
I want to puke and I want to strangle you for making me feel
so sick
I want to hit you, I want to hug you,
I want to know you in the familiar way that I do
...I picture lying with you
No, stop - I close my eyes and take a breath
Never again, can I let you in
Its a constant battle, resisting my love
I fight but no one sees

(141 words)
David Walker

The Urge

I stood at a fork four years ago
and you laid out each path up
in that loft.

"One way," you said, "you get to
grow old with me. You get to know
our kids, you get to understand

what all those love poems meant. Truly.
Not just the language, but the heart."
You then took my chin and lifted

my eyes to yours, a seriousness I've
never seen since waiting for me. "The
other is lonely. You get your gigs,

your fans, the road. You get what you've
dreamed about since you were a kid,
because you can do it. I know you can."

And this is where you smiled, "But my
kids will know their father from grasping
his finger and from Band-Aids kissed on

for good measure, not through a cell
phone screen." And then you brushed
hair from my eyes, "So if you can't resist

the urge, I understand, but I can't travel
that road with you. I don't have the legs
for it. I don't have the heart."

(175 words)
Walt Wojtanik


Your resistance
is measured. Your presence
is restrictive. Not quite so vindictive,
as you are counter- productive. A great-
er your impedance, the slower the flow.
But, lacking your blo- cking nature, the
stature of all movem- ent goes. These words
are electric, they po- ssess great power not
to be restricted by kilowatt hour. Amped
up and fully cha- rged, all resistance is
futile, a hurdle bypassed at every
turn. It's time you learn Pohm's
(Poem's) law. The path of least resistance yields the
greatest creative flow.Let it go, and go enjoy the show
For you surely know, that is the only way we'll grow.

Walter J Wojtanik, 2015

(117 words)

The alarm goes off
I slap it off, roll over and groan
Why, why is this a weekday instead of weekend?
The calendar says April 1st
Could this be a cruel joke, I actually slept for 3 days and it IS the weekend masquerading as hump day?
My foggy brain clears, no such luck for a reprieve
I get up and get ready to once again deal with the dreaded four letter word beginning with a W.

(78 words)

I'm either tired or getting old and missed something. Tie in to what holiday?
Thought today's theme was Resistance, enlighten me I beg please!
Which name looks familiar?

(28 words)
Delaina Miller

Crossing Lines
(Inspired by the Kansas City Repertory Theatre?s HAIR: Retrospection)

Minds set in metronome fashion that tick
off our tock.
Balance dangles in a web of resistance and clash.
Defining humanity
in skin tones and genitals
scar tissue thick
across the muscles of society.

Hey Doc with your reality repellent drugs
we are in battle with our surroundings.
War beaches on our shorelines
over oceans and picket lines.
Spoon fed fears, our souls are dying
in the fascination of war.
Nothing left to do but shout
Love! ?
From this bloody sea
where we paddle like dogs.

(99 words)

By Miles Collins

It is not something we have; a timeless existance

But we try to make the best of it; by eating nice food for instance

Most of the time we keep our distance but still together; co-existance

She aids me when I feel awkward; social assistance

She gives me lots of chocolate; despite my mothers persistance

She listens to me even if I am speaking without any substance; no indifference

She will still play if I?ve been a cheater; such forgiveness

We have no resistance; she is an ammeter

(92 words)
Swati Mitra

I am leaving....

He admonished me and said, 'No'....
I still did it.

He advised me to eat salmon.
I had beef.

He ordered me to stay,
So I am leaving.

(31 words)


If I grew up in a house
Made of matchsticks
Learning to disappear
When flames threatened a
Roar of conflagration
How would I know
A home needs material rooted
Watered and where
I could find saplings supple
Able to bend without
The painful crack of dislocation
A nest I can now celebrate
Without regret

(55 words)
RC deWinter

refusing to be lionized

having been rudely ushered
out of the creative arena
left without the work i know and love
i have embraced the sure and steady path
to self-destruction
it's a road i know so well
i can navigate it blindfolded

sugar and starch
are my food groups of choice
this steady and dedicated consumption
plays hob with my blood
i ride a chemical rollercoaster
and never wear a seatbelt

i am hardly sleeping
and when i do it's sleeping hardly
broken by strange disturbing dreams
and the unfamiliar hum of latenight traffic

in an attempt to remedy this situation
i toss back vast amounts of distilled amberjuice
and when that doesn't work
there are always pink pills

i inhale the toxic temptations of tobacco
all through the day into the night
this filthy habit being taboo
in the civilized society whose fringes i inhabit
i must take myself outside to enjoy
polluting myself with carcinogens

the door opens and closes frequently

last night i played solitaire
until at last bored out of my mind
i considered whether or not
i was ready to call it a day
(and day it was being about 3 AM)

after some little thought i decided
that one more smoke
would just about cap the neverending excitement
of the life of an artist
whose paints and brushes have been stolen
and so stepped out into the colorless dark

no sooner had i settled myself
on the cold concrete step
sucking in that lit lungful
than i heard you off in the trees somewhere
crooning a familiar invitation
in your seductive jesus voice

follow me you said
to a new and pleasant land
where all is safe and warm
unthreatened by the eyes
of prying wolves

how tempting in my exile was your summons
my skin tingled with that old black magick
blood bubbling with remembered lust
as i rose to seek you out and obey

then the last shreds of self-preservation
all stood up with me and screamed no
you'll survive the diet and the drink
and the smoke
to speak the words still waiting to be born
but if you follow that trail you are lost

i sat back down on that cold concrete step
surveying the burning ash between my fingers
before stubbing it out

and putting an index finger in each ear
to drown the sirensong of sweet familiar pain
sat there
a martyred stoic
until the tingle in my skin
became the harsh sharp bite of frost
and cooled the liquorish blood trapped in my veins

and so i shall not follow
i remain behind to joust with wolves
as you create a lair in a new jungle
i am a coward i suppose
i dice with death with cheater's cubes
and in the end shrink fearful
from the gaping maw of your fanged jaws

2015 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved
Yeah, I'm late!

(488 words)
the scribbler

April prompts
poem a day
musings swirl
my fevered brain.
Resist fog, resist pain,
fight to write. Right on!

Antihistamines haze me
over; dreams devour words,
put fight to flight in
first day flu.

(35 words)

Playing catch up:
I fight myself
Who I am who I think I am
They are not the same

Who I am
In my quiet moments
Who I should be

Who I think I am
Dictated by society
Pressures to fit in

I resist who I am
Who I am is not right
Or so I?m told

Who I think I am
Fits the mold
Daddy?s perfect boy

I fight my inner self
It?s no one?s business
He comes in my dreams

Which is real
My dreams
Or the world around me

How much longer
Can I resist
Who I am

(101 words)
Scott Jacobson


I am back and hoping
to touch your baser
instinct. Feel up
the emotions you
hide in your shirt
pocket. Say "nothing"
into your ear and hope
to hear something back.
Reach around your
resistance and embrace
the discord that I thought
I left in your past.
The full moon grants you
plausible deniability.
The night light grantsyou
a sense of false security.
We survived our yesterdays
to take off our memories
and lie down in the grass.

(81 words)
Jean Kay


How can I resist
when those big eyes look up at me
and ask in such a pleading tone
?Can I have a candy please Granny??

I may offer something savory
attempting not to give in,
but after ?no thanks? to carrot or apples
the candy askers win.

One day when they came for a visit
and my kitchen counter was bare,
I was told ?Granny, you aren?t prepared!?
as no cookies or baked goods were there.

How can I resist something like that
such affectionate recognition?
Coming to Granny?s house is special
so the heck with perfect nutrition.

Jean Kay

(104 words)

Dampened mind, how lonely you are to behold.

In my arms I cradle you single handedly as if you were a splintered creation of a womb sewn shut.

I suppose you are.

My other hand is curled around the unspeakable. The story of a girl raped until empty. Skin memories that do not erase with the passing of the hours. The days. The lifetimes.

And although the fault does not lie with me, his fingertips taught me to re-christen myself as an irreparable child, spilling forth with shame in each step.

So you can understand that it comes a surprise to me at first to discover that, curled up, ready for the agony of regrowth:
My other hand is a fist.

- Rebecca Egan

(124 words)

"Maybe Someone Hears Us"

Maybe someone hears us,
our collective prayer rising past
satellites, out past Vega, or
down to the hot core below.

Maybe it's all happening at once,
and everything that could be, is.
A multi-blanket of which we are
one bit of one thread.

Maybe communion is real, between
a Father and his bread,
a lover and his love,
our Earth and all the others.

Or maybe the only thing
is this dying willow tree, your
head on my chest in the
summer sun, resisting dusk.

(89 words)


Just do it MY way
It's not about the process
At the end of the day

It's all about who wins the game
And breaks the ribbon first
It's not about the best
But just encourages the worst

Times are swiftly changing
If you don't keep up, youlose
No matter who you run with
You can never be in their shoes

So push for what you think you want
Pull any way you can
It all comes out the very same way
When you try to resist The Man

(91 words)

PAD - Day 1 - "resistance"

"Through Storms"
By Kathy K.

I stand
Steadfast, into the wind.
The storms come,
Lightning streaks, thunder pounds,
Rain dances, water rises.

The day will end.
Calm return,
With tangerine sun and
Transparent sky.

But now,
Through darkness, through chill,
Through it all, unbroken.
I stand.

(52 words)
Judy Ann Giorchino

Day 1 Haiku - Resistance

Futile resistance --
Tides and change will never cease.
Best to flow along.

(18 words)

I resist opening my eyes
To a new day.

But why?

I have my life
I have my family and friends.

Maybe it is because of what I have that

I'm afraid.

(32 words)

Cerebral Conductor

A circuit of consciousness.
Conducive thoughts flowing past one another,
waving along wires, weightless, warm.

But resistivity is amped up.
Minds narrow.
Reflective currents hindered.
Thoughts rub, irritation.
Fuses tripped.

To reset is to meditate.
The power of the single word:

(46 words)
Patti Strong


Back and forth we go
Between acknowledgment
And ignoring
Both shy both hurt
Stuck and suspended
Scared and scarred

Inconsistency reigns

Unable to talk it out
Work it out
Communicate or connect
Pushed and pulled
Twenty years later
Resitance remains

(41 words)

tiny white pear blooms
in conical perfection
ask why resist joy

(11 words)

Fight the coming of age
Go to the gym
Eat more veggies and fruit
See the doctor
Follow her advice
Fight the coming of age
Cut out red meat
Or at least cut down
Eat more chicken and fish
Cut down fat, sugar and salt
Fight the coming of age
Sleep and drink red wine
Meditate and eat dark chocolate
Fight the coming of age
The passing birthdays
The sagging skin
The creep of dementia
The call of cancer
The faltering step
The dimming vision
Fight the coming of age

(93 words)
James Rodgers

Resistance is life's
way of telling you you're not
pushing hard enough

(12 words)


The eliptical whispers.
I don't want to.

The rower coughs.
I don't want to.

I hear
DVDs jittering
On their shelves.
I don't want to.

My sneaks
Hop over.


(34 words)

Resistence is friction
The push-me/pull-you of existence
The fight to move
The need to breathe
The fire that burns inside
Swimming against the tide
The need to be free of measurements
Free to be
The who I am to me
The attempt at non-conformance
In a world of continuous judgement

(50 words)


the mat keeps me up
but soon it cannot resist
i melt through the floor

(16 words)


Rip my heart from my chest
And wring out the last drop of selfish despair
How the pain reaches up through my body
and rakes my throat for tears
It's savage feeling -
This sympathy.
Agony unanswered. Torture endured.
We mortals must accept, but will we forgive
or understand Life's power;
It's cruel, illogical process?
How can it take away, forever
Such a precious gift
as a friend?

by Kim Watermeyer

(73 words)

Why You

My mind tells me to call you,
but I know not to.
Why you?
My heart wants to be with you everyday .
I make myself walk the other way.
Why you?
I know where my heart should be.
Already have a great family.
Why you?

By Teresa Albert

(51 words)


Resistance is futile
each piece of paper breeds
six more fanged pieces
I now longer fight
today tomorrow
all the same
nights are for not sleeping just a
comma between workmare
echoes of future dashes?

Megan McDonald

(38 words)

Not Shiny

In the clatter of crowds,
the theory of randoms
hits a stifle wall
in a time of Push Me Pull Me,
I no longer want to
live matchy work dress up.

The result of age, stress
and a growing intolerance
for work politic bullshit
leaves me currently resolved
to quit, open a stir fry truck
and then reality slaps me.
I can?t live on carrots
onion sprouts and tofu.
I have learned to love
steak. And finances say
steak = job.
So I put away pen
for key board and automate
myself redundant.
For now I have a job
even if it is no longer
fresh shiny just waiting for
another do nothing alteration.

Megan McDonald

(118 words)

Day 1: Resistance Poem

On The Way
Besides my younger brothers, the most tender men
I knew in my life were men who liked, but never loved me.

Like Hank, who I?d see every day as I walked
downhill, Shady Avenue, to teach at the alternative

high school, where the teens were sure they
were already somehow broken things. And Hank,

he?d take his long, lanky strides, uphill,
and a shy smile would spread across his face

at the sight of me, all twenty-something young
and black-hair swinging, struggling, in my high heels,

with the sidewalk cracks. We?d smile and sometimes
wish each other a good day, or comment on the

lilacs blooming in the air. And then we started
to leave our houses earlier, to leave more time

to talk to one another, the slow reveal
of who we were. Months passed. One April morning,

Hank loped up, handed me a box with paper daisies,
my favorite flowers, glued across the lid,

said ?happy birthday.? And when I opened it,
all fluster and grins, there was a red beret.

He said, ?I thought this would look beautiful
against your long, dark hair.?

The men I loved who said they loved me, too,
were less inclined to the gesture, the nuance, the kind

words that could open a heart. Their love
nailed to a truth they could not tell, and it rebuffed,

resisted any lasting thing. Hank moved away
just weeks after that gift. I still walked that city hill

to work each morning, hoping I could teach
my teens that they were, just by dint of being

who they are, both beautiful and whole,
whether or not they had yet met

along the road that stranger,

(288 words)

Free Entrance

Two angels locked in grace do not lift my weight
but then, I do not ask.

Your back towards me, all I see
as you take it in, your phone held up as camera to them.
From my distance: clean white wings against bright blue,
for a moment, I see perhaps as you do.

But the group of bronze working men comes first.
There is no beginning and no end, she tells us,
so we start here.

Why this resistance to letting go, to lightness?
Why this heaviness, like stone carvings,
like figures cast in bronze?

Spaces between these bronze men make
some light, make maybe a pathway through.

But one step forward is suddenly impossible,
as if I also am cast in bronze, as if some artist
catches me in this downward falling, this inward curling,
fating me to heavy, static gesture, forever.

I hope that no one?s looking, I think touching?s not allowed.
But I need it, take this brown long finger in my hand and hold it.
There is amused lightness in his face and almost dancing
in his gesture, an upward movement that I need and cannot muster.

I keep walking through the hall.

(This bronze-cast state is not forever)
and meet you by the limestone lovers. Maybe

your warm kiss as you lean down
can, against all odds, melt me.

I want to be my own artist, to make myself, create myself
not of bronze, but out of clay and light, of fire and water.

Free entrance on a Tuesday!
Is not this enough to loosen the hold
of heaviness I have put on my own heart?

(274 words)


Cannot look away
there is no struggle
mouth moves silently
eyes frozen in focus
twenty inch chain
no taste no scent
world shrunk to my palm
infinite in appeal
glowing screen has won.

(34 words)

Common Cause

Dead fish go along with the stream,
content in their deadness, happy in ease.
Swimming against the flow of the water?
Too much of a challenge;
Why bother?
Simply prefer the massage of the current
and schools of others for company too.

(44 words)


They want you to resist
temptation, the devil, bad people
and are so happy to show you the way.

The way, they say, is to give up
who you are, surrender to codes
of stone and lace that holds and ties.

When you go another way,
they cannot see how well
they taught you to resist.

(57 words)

Two days gone, but here it is:
Miss Take

I done bought me one sorry ass of a mule?
Paid good money fer her, too? I?m a durn fool.
She won?t carry a blasted thing on her back,
Not sorghum, not flour, not even hardtack.

Whenever I get near that ornery ol? cuss,
She heehaws an? kicks up a devil of dust.
But I?ll be hanged if her back I won?t ride.
I?ll break her stubbern, cantankerous hide.

Now my bones is bruised an? my backside?s right sore
I got me a settle to score.
I got dirt all in my mouth, clothes and hair,
That cheatin? Miss Take don?t play fair.

She?s addled my saddle an? scrambled my brain,
I?m afeard I got me one I?ll never train.
But jest wait an? see, I?ll get right back on
Leastwise, once?t these lumps is all gone.

Okay, now I?ve had it? I?m declarin? war!
I jest ain?t gonna take any more
Abuse from that bad-tempered beast.
I?ll barbeque her an? have me a feast!

(There?s more?n one way to skin a mule!)

By Shari Broyer
4-3-15 (Make-up for Day 1of PAD Challenge?Resistance)

(192 words)

Do Not Dog Your Dog

The day you finally
Sit down to write

Is the day
You will stop

Wondering why your dog
Will not stop


Before he finds a place
Good enough

Lay the bitch down!

(39 words)

My stomach growls
And my fingers make a move
My mind howls
"You have literally so much to lose"

Pounds ....I need to look better
so I don't hide in the summer

I need to be a klarie kloss
with a touch of a kate moss

I also need cake
fluffy chocolate
Vanilla dream,you bet
Screw models and Victoria secret

(61 words)

Fifth Column

Besieged by invaders
We gathered in secret
To mobilize. Sabotage,
And espionage became
Our game, misinformation
Our means of communication.
Are we seditious? Disloyal?
We struggle in self-defense.

(30 words)

Boom from the Inside Out

When my chest rattles
to the naked eye I?m still;
breathing in the expectations
of calm serenity. If they could only see:

The dotted lines that race
across my face as pencils
claw, and scratch, and tear
at the fabric of young lives
begging for the right answer?

Their smiles fading, wanting
to say ?No!? I will not peel back
the layers of grandeur
for the sake of philanders that
pillage the greatness of the troubled?

Futility. Swallowing the need
to impede like the Jews on their knees;
raking in the crumbs of manna
that does not fall from the sky.

(106 words)

I can feel the warmth of you beside me
As well as the distance in between.
Your hands on the wheel, eyes on the road,
You and me, on our way home.

As we speak, I resist the urge to get lost
In you eyes, so deep, blue, I'm lost-
No. I look away, watching the mountains and trees
As they fly by you and me.

I cannot tell you how I feel about you;
I don't want to risk losing you.
We're friends- and your sister is my best friend-
I don't want to bring our end.

You turn up the music, a song
About a man who waited too long,
He missed his chance
In a once in a lifetime romance.

I have to tell you, so I turn and
Open my mouth, then close it again.
I look away. I don't think you noticed.
I cannot tell you, but these are feelings I can't resist.

I turn my face toward you again,
Asking questions about classes, sports, your band.
I hope you know I truly care.
I'm not just making conversation.

Suddenly, we pull up outside my house, and I
Grab my suitcase, with my usual, "Thanks for the ride!"
"Yeah, no problem!" you say with a smile.
Then you wait until I'm safely inside,

And you leave.

(221 words)

Pretty Women

On sunny spring days,
every woman I pass
looks just like Julia Roberts.
I can?t resist taking
one more look.
Surrounded by Julias,
it?s hard not to smile.

(30 words)

This is just to say
that the housekeeping
is only going get worse from here.
Forgive me,
but it is April
and I can?t resist the call
of those poems still to be written.

(34 words)


The toothbrush will win
this time. No promises, though,
about the flossing.

(13 words)

november 1st

oh, gods.
not another

(7 words)
Rita K.

Resist Evil?It will denigrate your soul.
Resist Gossip?Don?t succumb- be bold!
Resist Pretense?Just be who you are.
Resist Anger?Peace will carry you far.
Resist Idleness?Use the gifts you possess.
Resist Worry?Just do your best!
Rita K.

(36 words)

"To resist, or not to resist?"

When you kissed me
the winter wind
as did my heart.

Your hands
found my body
tracing its topography.

You quickly acclimated
to its terrain-
Enjoying the mountains,
valleys and deep caverns.

Neither of us
Were expecting what ensued
Again and again-
and (God yes)?. Again.

We remained
Enveloped in each other-
Into the early morning.

Unlike the Rolling Stones,
Satisfaction was always
Your smile made that clear.

You satisfied me too,
for a while-
until your selfish ways took over
and it was all about pleasing you.

We went our separate ways
Moved on-
and I am so happy
With who I have become.

Yet, when the winter wind blows
and I see your face-
can almost feel that touch
Will I be able to resist you?

BY: bookworm0341

(140 words)

Wants and Dos

It has been snowing all morning
and no, I'm not projecting
I'm simply there expecting
the grotesque snowflakes to melt

It must, it has to be easy
to change the world for the better
as simple as a child's letter
something everybody can do

It's in me, this need for action
I'm thinking of it, I swear
the spring's somewhat late this year
my soul feels salty and wet

I'm metal, my guts need etching
and maybe then I'll appear
a hero without fear
metal without resists
by Lucretia Amstell

(94 words)
Benjamin Thomas


I can't resist the urge
To splurge so mightily
On the mystic math of muse

Explore its use
Of haughty equations
Speculate it's diameter

It's syllables would
Simply refuse

To take great pleasure
Quantifying it's
Precious perimeter

Scaling the height
Plunging to the depths
Extending the entirety
Of it's length

Solve wildy for it's variables
determine it's quotient
And Calculate it's breadth

(66 words)

For Jake: Part I of the Resistance That Was Only Part of Us

By Alemonlot

There was a time when I destroyed him. If by
destroy, I mean cherish. I could say something
poetically destructive about his eyes, like how I once
gouged his out with mine, by peering through them one by one,
slow and gentle at first to get under the tendrils and the meat, and then faster
and faster, until the romanticism was gone and all that was left was rush.

But I am not sure what is the point in saying any of that.

I could say I knew him as a child, but only part of that
is true, even though, in the end, perhaps his youth is all I was ever
after??to see his heart lift out of his chest without warning
and fill the room. He was one who had the ability to change the temperature
at will. There are few of us lucky ones who had the ability to change his.

When I knew him as a child, during that time, he turned into a lover so true, all the pretense
flooding his body evaporated and was lost to the sky. His vulnerable form bowed before me
in a final, tearful sigh that still the years have not yet defined.

But I am only saying this because I want to say something about what it is like to take him in.
If by to take him in, I mean, to have been cherished and taken by him.

I convinced myself he chose to live as if he was untouched, convinced
that all the eye-locks, hand-holds, duets, and sheepish grins were only in the temporal
world, of us, for us, for anyone he came near. But I am not sure what is the point in saying something went wrong, but there is a reason I feel a powering-up in my defiant, maternal nature
to uproot the past and redefine the pulsing truth that drove our center apart.

I know I wanted a warmer body. Something that didn?t see the sky and crouch.

(349 words)

2015 April PAD Challenge:
This is a poem about resisting obstacles that block my dreams to travel freely.

Thoughts of Traveling

I took a journey in my mind

The sights were grand to see

Saw wonders of a different kind

That filled my heart with glee

Can hardly wait to start the trip

Will give me a chance to have fun

Allowing me to get a grip

Of relaxing, playing in the sun.

Shirley Brittenum

(76 words)

April PAD Challenge 2015
Day 1


Take my hand
But mom, he stammers, head bent staring down at Mickey Mouse shoes

Be home at ten
The keys hit the doorknob as he tries unsuccessfully to not wake her

It doesn't matter I'll be there
He looks again out the window, willing her to show up before it gets worse

I know
A hug, a sigh and the whisper of, I need you

Kelli Schmidt-Bultena

(75 words)

Gyohka Resistence

a totally futile effort
resistence is futile

that is your opinion
the piece de resistence

viva la resistence

(20 words)
Khara House


We bake to overcome our own sense of defeat.
Boil sweet yams and season them with salt.
Pound these rusted husks of earth into submission.
Two cups sugar to season our potter?s field.

Every day we wake up screaming crows,
black birds roosting between unspoken
nests of craving. Sow this into crust
kneaded with cracked and blooded fists.

Fall headfirst into the clay. Burst open,
afire with flavor holding nothing back
from the tongue. A pinch of cinnamon,
nutmeg, and skin soaked so tender

when a fork?s stuck in it goes through easy.

We don?t fall apart.
Resist. Drift over loss like a feathery meringue.
Feel in the body all that is in this moment:
Thunder and rage and heat?

Three hundred and seventy-five degrees.
We form ourselves to the mold,
reclaim crimson soil with our teeth and say

(141 words)

Spirit (Resist Me)
Resist me

If you can

Pretend I am who they see

The covered vision

The reflection of all your senses

But you are a vessel for me

Resist me

If you can

For you exist within the barrier of time

From your first breath

You are deteriorating if you choose to

Oppose me

Resist me

If you can

For in control, I was meant to be

Your life, can't shine

Except, you acknowledge me

For no one sees me

Yet I am

And you are

A dwelling place for me

(93 words)

Every word
refuses to fit into the sentence
that captures my profound thought --
refuses firmly
even though
I ask so very nicely.

(23 words)

I didn?t want to do
This diet so constraining
Recipes so feigning
Not a bit entertaining
Is the goal worth obtaining?

Hardly worth the chew
Boring and monotonous
Sugar is disastrous
Yeast is preposterous
Protein takes prominence

Yet, pounds they slowly melt
Pants are getting loose
It?s working I deduce
It?s worth it skipping juice
And passing on the mousse

Feeling kinda svelte
Discovering new food like Columbus
Learning to enjoy hummus
Feel less like a hippopotamus
Just like the doctor promised

(82 words)

YMCA Morning

A body lacking tone
Years of seated neglect
The sighing resignation
Of muscles at the gym

More weights are added
The assault of resistance
A call for one more set
An acknowledgment of pain

Grammar school counting
One to eight seeking ten
Breathe out with effort
Inhale the small victory

Defy the aching tendon
Define the future vigor
Defend the core of moxie
Defuse the bomb of aging

(70 words)


Tonight, the ceremony begins.
We sit crossed legged to try and protect
ourselves even in the smallest movements, even if the
limbs trailing across our cores doesn?t keep us warm, from
rendering into origami corpses .
The girl next to me is beckoned to the center, and we stare in awe
as they slit her wrists, as a gilded rainbow light siphons
out of her body, while she ever so slightly arches her back,
the memories hard, gentle, rough and soft pouring out
of her. And we watch as her second skin, like a habit hugging a sinner,
Slips off of her frame, and into the fire, the elders smile her
with pride. They seal the wound
with salt, and she struggles to keep balance- her eyes dimmed with
a little less pain, a little less light brimming on her lids and
more emptiness ebbing from them.
They tell us she?s a success, that soon enough, we can all be rid of
this disease called ?free will? and become pure, like her.
They tell us that the memories might thieve the color and light
from our world, but digress -
what?s light other than a less dark form of darkness?
How could you lament something you can?t remember?
As she saunters away, the hollowness in the pit of my
stomach reverberates, and I realize, soon I would
never feel this again, this warmth of the fire, of my fear.
A finger curls towards me, soot-ridden, frail. It?s my turn now.

(251 words)

Barbershop haircuts
Or the lack there of.

By Brittany Sweatt

Your Presence in the barbershop did not, in fact, force you to get a haircut.
Although that is why you said you were cautious to come in.
The Desire and inevitable.
Your small amount of short visits was just the same, short lived.
You Left.
Was it, the desire for a trim grew too strong that caused your complete retreat?
Or You couldn?t tolerate fear of the inevitable, so you altered that course of fate?
Maybe neither.
You were not available any longer to entertain the idea.
But a contingent
We could carry on still, just different.
I don?t want different.
But you don?t want a haircut.

(117 words)

A day late! But the bad irony is that I had to file an assault challenge yesterday, so here's a resistance poem straight from fresh experience... :/


Angry bites
red hot, puffing venomous
which swell to whitened points

dissolving skin, meaningless

too choked from overwhelming
panic in one heart-stopping attack

I said no again
no, no
at each effacement
my clothing slipping away in sinuous tendrils
participating in the no.

My name isn't Yes,
will unweak to his movement
suggesting upward

I want no part in your ofference
of heavenly delights

They say you've gotta suck
the poison out, once a bite has been

But I won't suck,
won't take the thing into my mouth.

It's the site of my inflammation-
and it's mine-no matter
his untender squeezes.

Later sobs of pain disintegrating
words that suspend in my
throat unfallen.

Those hands in my wanton curls-
asking to soothe offended silence-
shear away innocent waves,
my fury like a kiss
mangling the mutinous tendrils away.

One bite does not define me.
I find potential in chaos.

(179 words)

She Tried

She was the light
but he couldn't see,
She was his strength
yet he was weak as can be.

She was the joy
in the midst of his sorrow,
She was his hope
hope for tomorrow.

She was his laughter
but he lost his smile,
She was his help
but he never allowed,
So after much effort
she humbly bowed.

Departing from him
she said her goodbyes,
Her tears had dried up
from the years
she had cried,
Finding hope in the truth
that at least
she had tried...

-Katie Lynn-

(93 words)


The looms
began to beat,
like a metronome-

right-left, right left

faster and faster
in synchronization,
until the room
shuddered and shook
beneath it?s power-

Bricks broke away
from walls
and floors swayed like water
beneath our feet,
threatening to destroy
the entire mill.

The overseer pushed
and pried the leather straps from the pulleys
forcing the machines
to stop.

Then one by one,
connected belts to looms
until the room again
began to roar-
this time
with separate voices,
each machine
adding to the commotion
without the destruction.

And I began to see how
one voice
could be more powerful
than a hundred single complaints.

(108 words)
Mel Lewis

Gravity's Lament


-Melanie Lewis @oodajunkie

(10 words)


What is the best thing that ever has been
In those 80 years since my life did begin?
Was it school days, or marriage, or
One of my flings?
Was it children, or grandkids, or a splendid career?
Was it being the best at some hobby so dear?
No, the best is to wake up each morning and hear
That a new day is born and thank God, I?m still here.

(72 words)

Reluctant Me

I shall not embrace you right now with my presence
I find it so hard to resist your temptation that shadows me
Your power leaves me helpless, motionless like a calm storm
I won?t let you take capture of my soul I need for survival
No cherish will come from you.

I can?t entangle myself with your deceitful promises lead by destruction
Stay clear from me
I shall not embrace you right now with my presence
I will not be swallowed whole, I will not disappear
I will stand strong to resist your wrath upon me.

(98 words)

The Path

This path I walk is not my own
I did not choose to follow
Yet there?s a voice comes from within
She warns me not to wallow.

This random road wreaks havoc
With anyone it chooses
And there?s no telling who will win
The battle or who loses

So I?ll fight the fight with all my might
With courage and good manner
And tread this course with tempered remorse
Till I wave the victory banner

(77 words)

Now is not my time
nor is yester-year or tomorrow
writing a pointless rhyme
matching silly words like borrow and sorrow
do you remember my smiles?
do you remember your own?
do you remember running miles
to someone but ending up alone?
do you remember taking a breath
and feeling your ribs crack?
do you remember feeling the thrill of almost death
when you laid across the rumbling railroad track?
do you remember craving hugs
and a secret kiss or two?
do you remember wishing away the bedbugs
or getting in trouble for a paper long since overdue?
I really doubt you remember anything at all.
And I have a secret to confess.
Although this poem is not to enthral,
I know the truth; we are lifeless.

(127 words)

Revolution?s Dust

The city was cold that night,
Snow covered the scars and pain
It had endured in its plight,
But white washes away in rain.

It could not freeze the suffering
Or pull the streets back in time,
No longer did the insurgents sing
Their revolutionary rhyme.

Dusty roads flooded with silence,
The city?s spirit bound, choked,
They sang not words of violence,
But ruler?s wrath was still provoked.

A lone figure emerges in cold mist,
A warrior once, now nobody,
One who said no, dared to resist,
Now a shell drained of its tenacity.

He smirks at such a sorry state,
Stepping over fallen comrades,
Taken by the cruel goddess Fate,
The stench of sorrow pervades.

Here where forgotten heroes bled
He wanders without remorse,
For them no tears will be shed,
Nor for their foolhardy cause.

The road ahead split into two,
One path to mindless compliance,
Or a mortality to escape through,
That ultimate sacrifice and defiance.

And so, his path is the latter,
Bravery still burning, a noble choice,
But an action that shall not matter
In a world drained of its voice.

(188 words)
Hibah Shabkhez

Les enfants de la patrie
Go on without me
I am resisting the resistance
I am savouring existence

(18 words)

April 1 submission albeit a day late.
submitted by Kirby Bonds

Why resist a day of foolish pranks
Played on the unsuspecting
For giggles and for our fun
Everyone will laugh
Except for one

(34 words)

This is yesterday's resistance poem-for some reason it didn't show up, so I'm re-posting it-apologies if it's floating around somewhere; I'm still learning to navigate. . . .

Therapy, by RachelmHolley

You ask what only few can know
I craft for you tall tales
And silently dare your disbelief.

(49 words)

Lauren Dixon

Peeps Nightmare

They sit huddling,
Waiting for the annual slaughter,
Hundreds of them, dressed
In their pale Easter pallor.
Trying not to be noticed,
Trying to blend in next to
brown rabbits, foiled eggs,
Begging me not to touch
The spring pastel colors,
Monogrammed of course,
M and M, short for more and more,
It didn?t work. I grabbed
Handfuls while the chicks
Watched in horror, knowing
What came next were rabbits
With no ears and headless
Yellow marshmallows.

(81 words)

Resistance Mask

Joy dances round and about
Air filled with ripples of delight.
Pleasure shall ne'er penetrate
Somber, scarred stone faade
Of my long-ago smiling face.

(26 words)

Willing Way Parking Lot

Do you remember how you sat
in dad's red four door Nissan truck
refusing to get out? You unlocked
the doors after I referenced the drizzle
starting to fall from the dark
Statesboro sky. I'm not going.
I'm not even getting out,
you said
forcefully. I saw it in that moment,
how we are so alike yet different.
While I can't think of a memory,
I'm sure there was a birthday party
or maybe a park or playground
I refused to leave,
looked you in the eye
in this same defiant manner
and with gritted teeth said,
I'm not going. I'm not.
But in that moment
I was a grown man, thirty-one,
trying to convince
you to get help.
I wasn't ready to give up.
Do you remember?

(132 words)
Jeanne Coward

Resistance poem

Why Resist Who We Are

Life came when God
breathed His breath into us,
Now we resist Him
causing such a fuss.
We are made of His spirit
though many refuse to see,
Yet one thing is for sure
we will all live for eternity.
The choice is ours
which one will it be,
Resist Jesus and
receive eternal damnation
or accept Him
and gain freedom and life eternally.

(71 words)
Ann M


I resist the palm crosses
the lilies
and the prayers.
Outside the stone church
I stay,
not in a new dress
or fancy hat;
no Easter suit for me.
Still I watch you rise,
bloody hands and all,
resisting all you see-
the bitter here
the hateful now-
turning dawn's darkness
into day's light.

(55 words)

I never wanted this.
I wished for it always.

In my dreams
so wonderful.

In reality,
what a mess.

(19 words)
Diana Ann Bisares

Just One More Sip of Bitterness

Had a little conversation with my thoughts,
this morning, as the papers on my desk go rumbling:
Let this be the last of such bitter indulgence,
the first of coming days of not forcing what you can't.

Oh, but the sweet, sweet taste of one sip,
and of another and another and of one bit more!
The warmth that touches and lingers on my lip,
how could I let go of what I've woken up for?

No, thoughts. Here's a gulp...
of that cup of freshly brewed coffee.

(94 words)

I just
Don't want to write
Anything today at
All; but I see resistance is

(16 words)
South Park Goth Kids


(1 words)

Tempt me

Tie me, when awake...
My lips are craving,
My soul is fending,
My fists are tight,
My tears are ice.

Take me, when in vain...
I scream the ?I need it?
They scream ?I have it?
I cry ?I want it, but I can?t?

Hug me, when I need...
A light to ride
A sound to brake
A world to fight
A glimpse of fate

Tempt me, when I crave...
When just a song
Can make me brake
When life says no,
but I say yes.

By Jocy Medina

(91 words)

Where the Bus Stops

Early morning, crowds are forming
Shoes dampened, grass coated
Tape you laces, set the watches
Fire the shot heard ?cross the field.

Arms pumping, feet pounding
Inhale deep, lungs not responding
Turn a corner, pace now lesser
Feel the path start pressing in.

Narrow narrow through the trees
Jump a log, branch hitting knees
Squish, slosh, sinking deep
Pride no more a thing to keep

See the tiny windblown flag
A mile left, pace starts to sag
Cross a shiny pebble river
Legs resist, tumble, quiver.

A mountain rises up ahead
Pick up speed, lungs burn, feet fly
Steep rise, hands crawl, knees scrape
Pass the wounded, jump the dead.

Down at last, legs flailing, arms trailing
Spot the white surrender beacon
Faster harder, stronger, push a bit farther
Lungs screaming, thighs burning, people cheering.

Cross the boundary, take a card
Collapse in loving parent?s arms.

Natalie Gasper

(152 words)


I heard you at my
door last night
The way you thump ;
your sinister
yet seductive sounding
taps so distinctive.

But I'm onto
you now;
I wasn't inside
I was somewhere else.
Somewhere crazy
knows not.

That's right?
I heard you
but didn't answer,
determined to ignore
your siren hiss,
stand firm,
pull my sanity
around me
like a shield.

You don't get to
come in,
and wreck
my life
any more.
We're quits
I don't care
if you're mad.
It's your turn?
I'm done with you
so don't come
'round here again.

(97 words)

There can only by
If resistance
There can only be
If static is
There can only be
If darkness is

The Power
And the Change
And the Light
All things
Great and small
Good and bad
Grand and minute

Resistance and
Static and
Can be
With Power
And Change
And Light

(63 words)

If this Day 1 submission went through twice, please forgive me. I've been having log in problems.

Go with the flow they say
It?s easier this way
But where?s the fun in that
No challenge in the day

My life is in shards
Played the wrong cards
Hit the wrestling mat
Leaving is hard

So uphill I go
Against the flow
Joy to arrive at
Quid pro quo

(69 words)


Our dreams are h(a)unted,
but not by those things
that go bump in the night ?
ghosts and hobgoblins,
banshees, ogres and ghouls.
No, we stress over
the conceivable uncovering
of clandestine privacies;
are pestered by
the possible discovery
of our covert li(v)es.
We fuss and fret
over secrets we keep,
and the rational fear
of talking
in our sleep.

(61 words)
Noah McLaughlin

voltage, amperage, ohms, watts, dead men and stardust
push their way through the remains of world-smashers
those vishnus of the void that once burned the air
cigarettes of the heavens whose exhalations unfurled masses of death
and then life upon the roiling red surface of the world

even after armageddon, the sea was red at rest
it carried stagnation and its waves could only dream of greater crests
reaching, reaching, reaching for the moon
aspirations lunar but gravity pulling harder
towards hot nickel and iron spinning within a gold and granite cage

this blue sea, this new sea, covers its depths with cool serenity
fills its widths with giant-songs that travel miles before they fade
peoples its darkness with blind monsters lighting their own way
without the resistance of men forcing teslas through
circuits that cannot bear the mad genius of the universe

and thus release light

(147 words)

Alcaics: Thou Who Has Brought Us Thus Far On The Way

For Major Jackson

Val named me ?Little Sister? because I asked
to go out to lunch with him, Elmer, Andre
every week. I sat in the middle
of his immaculate grey car, listening ?

neighborhood gossip, who?d bought a new house,
who wasn?t taking care of business, nuh-uh ?
they only remembered me in rests,
white silence inside a conversation.

Boiled collards with ham, so salty I minced bites;
I copied their orders, and so learned soul food
paired with the cook?s looks and Val?s soft shrug ?
(stories so banal my pen resists them)

I studied Spanish for eight years, lived abroad,
received a degree in foreign literature ?
and yet when I joined our school?s small choir
we sang ?Lift Every Voice and Sing?, a song

new to my mouth, The Black National Anthem
Kesha joked, how did I not know this nation
daily I stood in front of and failed ?
they still called me teacher, all except Val.

(173 words)

I forgot to put my name! - Kelly Morse

(9 words)

I am an

And just who
Are you

How dare you
Tell me

What to write
What to think
What to say

I am an

How can you
Guess at

What is word
What is thought
What is deed

To me

You have no

I am an

lynne james fraser

(56 words)


I have a secret or two,
some old, some new
guarded like a prince
on horseback or with his wench

for the moment they're safe
from those with vacuous lives
inherent in the moment
where everything is a surprise

I do not want
to be relieved of my cache
all I have to wish for
is here and here to stay.

(62 words)

Now who could resist?
A poem a day,
Even though it may suck,
I?ll do it, I say!

But I do prefer prose,
SciFi, it is,
Worlds out of time,
That don?t have to rhyme!

But, I said I would do it,
So here is the first.
And at the end of it all,
Probably the worst!

(57 words)


Resistance is a good thing
from electricity to mood swings
doubt that an emergency will erupt from divergency
even atoms have tales.

resistance as a thought
hold your tongue, you ought not
words are life, so is air
how they make such a wonderful pair.

resistance for today and all will be well,
no accounting for heaven and hell.

(60 words)

I close my eyes
the words drone on
I visualize a bubble

Inside I breathe
Inside I'm safe
Your words cannot touch me

The buzz goes on
underneath fear speaks
your darkness revealed

Inside you seethe
Inside you hate
Your labels cannot hurt me.

I feel a touch
my eyes open wide
as another soul steps within

The bubble grows
as others join
our love will outlast you.
-rough draft of "I Resist", by Rhonda Zatezalo

(76 words)

The Door

fingers tremble
on the doorknob,
hope conflicts with fear?

-Mary W. Jensen

(16 words)
South Park Goth Kids


(1 words)

There is an art to saying "no" to somebody
who does not understand the meaning of the word;
there is a perfect combination of
hard eye, unclenched fist, straight-line shoulder -
but no. She turns your hard eye to sulk.
Your unclenched fist is pout.
Your straight-line shoulder is too cold.
She knows your game well. Knows
how "no" dissolves if she can only
turn your defiant stance to petty, crying child.
There is an art to saying "no" to somebody
who does not understand the meaning of the word;
it's called
It's called
not looking back.
Kirsten Uhde | (Resistance; 1/30)

(104 words)


There can only be
If resistance
There can only be
If static is
There can only be
If darkness is
The Power
And the Change
And the Light
All things
Great and small
Good and bad
Grand and minute
Resistance and
Static and
Can be
With Power
And Change
And Light.

(63 words)
Elizabeth Koch


They say it is futile
But sometimes
It is my only answer
I must resist
The inner voice
That whispers
"I cannot"
I can
"I?m not good enough"
I will be
"I should quit now"
I won?t
To not resist
To give into
That voice
Is to dry up
Slowly crumble
At the hands
Of defeatist
I will resist
I will let
The sun in
To shine
On my face
Lighting the way
For the voice
Of my soul
To become raw
From its defiant use

(88 words)

"we are thawing out."

i am ready for warmth to come (again)
but here is spring, opening the skies up
letting snow fall , white
sticking to the grass

Temperance tells me to calm down,

i am ready to be happy (again)
but here i am, tying myself up
into knots . trying so hard
to untangle myself

all of these dramatics won?t help me.

(65 words)

Tried to post this once, but it didn't seem to take. Apologies if it ends up here twice.

The Beat

It's the mothers who beat
trash can lids against dusty sidewalks.
At first a chorus of clangs
juxtaposed, out of synch
until a rhythm emerges.
A steady wallop of warning.
Bare knees against the concrete
their faces turned hard
towards the sirens. Coming.
Stern in expression and mind.
They've fled without words
from their ramshackle row-houses.
Formed their lines,
started their clamor

There are many ways to resist,
they will tell their grandchildren
years later, when the Troubles
have slowed to a simmer.
There are many ways to defy.
Every hand does not need a gun.
But every pair of eyes has to see.
Every heart has to know when to
pound a little louder.

- Kim Mannix

(139 words)

I Know That I Must Wake

I know that I must wake
from slumbers deep with nothing,
to rise and to arouse my
faculties for another day.
I know that I do wish
to hop up and be joyful;
to feel the freedom and the life
of what is called, today.
I know i mist be strong
and that I must encourage,
to help all those around me
believe it's all okay.
I know that I do wish
to always be the tower,
to lend both of my shoulders
and my laughter, come what may.
But I know before the flutter
of eyes, the stretch, the yawning
a dream will have disturbed me
and set me all awry.
I know that upon waking
I'll dread having to see you.
I'll say a prayer to stand up
Because it's s do or die.
I know that then my eyes
will chance upon your features
and then my heart will stir up
a past I can't deny.
And then, I know that you
will find some way to touch me
and make like we are friends
while I feel like I must comply.

I know that I must wake
from slumbers deep with nothing,
to rise and to arouse my
faculties for another day,
but all I know is now
I feel depression coming
and every fiber in my body
begs for me to stay.

(233 words)

In my dreams I see
Visions of a future that will never be.
Although I treasure them all,
The scare me scare me so that I call,
To a spouse that holds me dear,
and tells me 'don't worry, I'm here.'

(41 words)

Four Letter Words

Twice told, the story old
Before my world is right.
Two hearts entwine, his and mine
Not meant to be, I?m sure.

I say no, it?s not a go,
You?re not who I thought you were.
Love has waned, and caused me pain,
Do not ask again.

He insists, but I resist,
I turn to walk away.
?Please!? he cries, my heart sighs,
Tempted for just a tick.

When we kiss, I feel his phantom fist,
And shudder to my core.
It?s not a go; it?s still a ?no,?
I deserve better than this.

(97 words)


You caught my eye
As I entered
The restaurant
Sitting in all your glory

Sheathed in nothing
But coffee-colored velvet
Dripping down
As if to tell a story

At times I see
You pass so slowly
Tempting me
With long drawn ache

To grab you fast
Bring you to my lips
And feel you wrap
Around my hips

You luscious chocolate cake!

~ Vanessa O?Dwyer
All rights reserved.

(69 words)
Lady Grayish

Small hands cling
To a book

Treasured tale
One time heard

Daddy read
I listened

Peace and calm
Smashed, broken

A price paid
Mommy says

It's called a
Coffin but

She can't make
Me look in

(36 words)

The Beat

It's the mothers who beat
trash can lids against dusty sidewalks.
At first a chorus of clangs
juxtaposed, out of synch
until a rhythm emerges.
A steady wallop of warning.
Bare knees against the concrete
their faces turned hard
towards the sirens. Coming.
Stern in expression and mind.
They've fled without words
from their ramshackle row-houses.
Formed their lines,
started their clamor

There are many ways to resist,
they will tell their grandchildren
years later, when the Troubles
have slowed to a simmer.
There are many ways to defy.
Every hand does not need a gun.
But every pair of eyes has to see.
Every heart has to know when to
pound a little louder.

(118 words)
Cernek-Kashk Ellenelizabeth

Post John RIP 3/10/15

April 1, 2015


I have resisted
Not to yell
I have resisted
Thoughts of our last crazy words
I have resisted
Cursing the Gods
I have resisted
Pleading with Satan
I have resisted
In believing forever
I have resisted
In promises not kept
I have resisted
Hoping for a miracle
I have resisted
The anguish
I have resisted
In lost love
I have resisted
In crying
Because Resistance is all I am left with

(79 words)

Sorry I'm getting a late start. Will be on time from now on.

Poem a Day challenge for April 1


take it all in, all of it -- the liquid, the grass, the ebbing rust of a California sunset
suck down that salt of remembrance, that urge to be blank,
to forget why you came here, why you fight

bring this ache as near as your insides, let it be as fierce as your longing to hide,
but swallow it down

devour the pain until it goes down your throat, a lump of anguish bulging peristalsis
let it jangle your cells like pocket change
let it make your neck hairs into tiny soldiers in formation
swallow it down like the last pill before bed, without water, without relief

and then fight

your pain is part of you now; it has power
your pain can armor you now; it has scales of steel and loss
you will be surprised by how much it can carry,
how much it can make free,

and how brave it can make you
once you know it does not have the power

to kill you

(190 words)

when you leave
you take so much of me with you
you take so much of the past 18 years

when you leave
you take more than a bed, a dresser, and a bar
you take pieces of me alongside your presence

when you leave
i can not ask you to be what you no longer are
i will resist the urge to beg

when you leave
i will help you take this journey you are on
i will resist the urge to block your way

when you leave
you take the fork in the road without me
i will resist the pain swelling in your wake

when you leave
you take this opportunity for all is holds
i will resist the need to stop you

when you leave

(129 words)


for Norman O. Brown

"...if a way to the Better there be, it lies in taking a full look at the Worst." ? Thomas Hardy

Union desires the ideal.
The ideal, being untenable, victimizes the real.
The real as victim is melancholia.
Melancholia, then, is the loss of the ideal.
The ideal, never being real, is the phantom,
The phantom that confers melancholia.
Lay the phantom? O, Buddhahood
In The Land of Ubiquitous Technology and Reason,
You yourself are now the phantom?
Laying the phantom becomes the phantom.

(89 words)

Wondering why good people hurt,
why doesn't the good spare them?
They give, give, give and what do they get?
No answers...no answers from within.

(25 words)


Determined, chin firm,
all the right words playing
in her head,
resolute, almost cocky
about how impervious she is,
she feels no qualms
going out with him.

She misunderstands her heart?s strength.

It is not strong, buttressed against this moment.
It is not firm, fearless,
ready to resist any nonsense
withstand any blandishments.
No, oh

Her heart has been strong waiting
for this moment, for him to wish
her company, and now, fickle,
is primed to melt at any hint
of a gentle touch.

She doesn?t know her lonesome soul
is ready to love
at the most ridiculous of
the tiniest of hopes she may be given.

There is no resisting
a heart that is ready to

Diana Terrill Clark

(124 words)

Resistance is Futile

Resistance is futile
so they say...

Go with the flow
and head the right way...

But sometimes,
standing still while
the flow breaks around you
can show how
the mainstream
really is...

And encourage you
to wade against it.

A little resistance
tones the muscles
and makes the world
go round.

(55 words)
Rolf Erickson

The Dance

Fear resists.
Habits persist.
Dreams subsist.
And yet somehow,
Hope exists.


(18 words)
Beth Browne


It?s the pickle jar
with the sticky lid
the end of the toothpaste
frost on the windshield

It?s the burnt crust
on the oven floor
the deep-rooted weeds
a jaw-breaker at Halloween

It?s the stubborn fetus
after forty-one weeks
an obstinate teen
a clingy toddler

It?s pizza sauce
on a white blouse
the beginning of the toilet paper roll
melted wax on the tablecloth

It?s the end of winter
hanging on
in spite of everything
April frost, arctic winds
no relief in sight.

(84 words)
Vince Gotera

Late entry. I did write this yesterday but neglected to post here.

Resistance Is Futile
by Vince Gotera

Friends, we are not who
you think we are. No, we are
not metal men, two-

by-two, steel shoulder
to steel shoulder, goose-stepping
down your streets. We are

not angels weeping
stone tears, just waiting until
you blink. Not reaping,

that?s not what we will
do with you. We harbor you
no ill will. Futile

resistance, who said that? You
are safe, dear ones. We love you.

Blog post here. Thanks, Robert!

(90 words)

Ease on Down the Road

Oh, I really love the scenery
along this well-trod way,
even though it's quite familiar,
since I use it every day.

I can recognize the bird calls,
I know all the trees by name.
I can walk it with my eyes closed,
because everything's the same.

I can count the ripples in the stream,
and all the fishes, too.
There's not one who fears my passage,
They know I'm just passing through.

I wouldn't pick one flower,
I leave every stone unturned,
for I know that I'll be back quite soon
to practice what I've learned...

Don't make any alterations.
Never wander off the road.
If you meet someone who's laden down,
don't try to share the load.

Slide your slippers down this pathway,
never veering left or right.
Leave no notice of your passing,
keep your head down, be polite.

Never offer a suggestion.
There's a vote? Make sure you're last.
It's the path of least resistance
that will take you nowhere, fast.

Sharon Anderson

(171 words)

How can I not?

You show me the bad
you try to change my act
you think I cannot think
and I turn you off in a blink.

You - you rob me,
straight face!
That is not a fee,
there is no trace
of liberty;
it's not my free-will
or collaboration.
It's a bill
for distortion.

You lie when you say
this is the land of free.
Nothing you know about freedom
when you abide to the Kingdom.

How can I not resist
to this huge farce?
How can I exist
like a harnessed horse?

(RCT / 04/02/15)

(101 words)
Barbara Kaufmann

4/1 Prompt - Resistance (tanka)

garden journal
'don't plant forget-me-nots..
too weedy'
how she fought the truth of it
a fading memory

(22 words)

Resistance ? April 1, 2015
Diana R. Wilson

Tournament of our war no longer practice
Tormented, this wrong must be avenged
Tangled wire around fingers and mouths
Taffy pulling that sugar sweet ache
Tangy citrus stinging and biting
Tooth and nail, forces

(43 words)
Connie Inglis

Do not Resist by Connie Inglis

Bereft beggar
in and out?through
throngs of

Helpless hand
ever open?seeks
sustenance for

Generous giver
love open,
resists not
embarrassed eyes?

(41 words)
Rob Winters

Sorry I'm late. It's a long month.


I oppose your flow.
I resist your reactance.
It?s difficult to calculate
my impedance to your impudence.
It may be equal to
the sum of
the squares of
the square root of
but one thing?s for sure:
it?s not measured in Ohms.

(51 words)

Ooops! Liking this theme, but have to resist the urge to edit if I want to make it through the whole month (and I do!). Note to self: Revisit & revise LATER; for now here's my day 1 resistance poem... draft. Thanks, Robert, for hosting such a fantastic poetically inviting event!

Nothing But Trouble

(a double dipped ice cream cone
rolled in chocolate sprinkles,
hot fudge banana split sundae
with whipped cream and a cherry,
triple calypso mocha latte espresso)
decadent, delicious.
a virus, a bug (the 24 hour kind)
and she?s feeling feverish,
shivery, light-headed;
having heart palpitations
and sweaty palms,
all electric lightning,
tingling in places
she?d rather not think about.
She needs
a shot (of something
to calm her nerves),
could use a tincture ? a vaccine
to protect her from what lies ahead.
a heartache
waiting to happen
and her resistance
is down.

(150 words)
Penny Henderson

Fiery golden ball,
half submerged in darkling sea
casts a bridge between worlds

Across white caps
a Harrison Ford escape:
walking on water.

those who choose a route
by considering safety
must look elsewhere

(34 words)

Unsuccessful Touchscreen

one screen
goes dark
and your panic
is a dry-lipped search.
you upend the world.
you become
last lighthouse.
you fail miserably.
Every flat surface
becomes unsuccessful
Windows are useless,
serve no purpose;
unless you want to see
the world resist your
blank screen terror.

(48 words)


I fight against the truth
of breathing into empty spaces,
the complexity of Morse Code
leaving chemtrails in my brain.
.... . .-.. .-. HELP
Where is this religiosity
that once gave me peace when
the dark consumed me? I would pray
on bended knee relishing the smooth wood
against my scabbed dreams. I misplaced God
along the way, and while I seek the lost child, there
is a silence reaching places left hollow. I cannot follow edicts
of benevolence with clarity. I don?t want to bleed emotions into similes
& metaphors pushing doors open, seeking words to stifle the ache I can?t explain.
... - -- .-. STOP
I fight against the truth
of fleeing into empty spaces
these voices are not my insanity.
leaving aftertaste in my mouth
..-. . .- .-. FEAR
becomes a subservient mantra.
I don?t want to feed emotions
into why or why not. Connection
is elusive on my tongue; words:
-. -- -.. GOD
where are you? I seek silence
in the noise of rhythmic waves. I
watch children play in the foamy
baptism of tidal residue on grains
of sand. I want to cast my suffering
into the depths of a briny sea,
in the midst of a summer storm
to be released, so I can live again.

(221 words)

I fight against the truth
of breathing into empty spaces,
the complexity of Morse Code
leaving chemtrails in my brain.
.... . .-.. .-. HELP
Where is this religiosity
that once gave me peace when
the dark consumed me? I would pray
on bended knee relishing the smooth wood
against my scabbed dreams. I misplaced God
along the way, and while I seek the lost child, there
is a silence reaching places left hollow. I cannot follow edicts
of benevolence with clarity. I don?t want to bleed emotions into similes
& metaphors pushing doors open, seeking words to stifle the ache I can?t explain.
... - -- .-. STOP
I fight against the truth
of fleeing into empty spaces
these voices are not my insanity.
leaving aftertaste in my mouth
..-. . .- .-. FEAR
becomes a subservient mantra.
I don?t want to feed emotions
into why or why not. Connection
is elusive on my tongue; words:
-. -- -.. GOD
where are you? I seek silence
in the noise of rhythmic waves. I
watch children play in the foamy
baptism of tidal residue on grains
of sand. I want to cast my suffering
into the depths of a briny sea,
in the midst of a summer storm
to be released, so I can live again.

(221 words)

Resistance is Futile

Or so they say
I remember something about that
from my favorite Cake song.

I have a feeling that saying
is popular among those in power
to deny those without

as if words and repetition
are more resilient than actions

"It is useless to resist us"
is prescriptive, not descriptive
attempting to persuade rather than convince

The real power hides
in the apathy of the oppressed
to refuse to act

If instead of refusing to act,
they refuse to believe the futility?

What a world it might be.


(92 words)
Anya Padyam

Fly, soar, in the vast skies,
Shedding the shackles
Sans inhibitions
A recurrent dream of mine

Bogged down by the
Insurmountable weights
Of the daily drudge

Gravity pulls me down
While I irrationally gravitate
Toward the utopian paradise

The urge to run amok
In unbridled joy
Overbearing in its charm

The perfect moment
When I shall be free
A defiant chase toward
Resisting the routine

(65 words)
Michelle Hed


Just one peak,
just one bite,
just one more,
just, just, just?
Resisting the obstacles
to my dreams.

(19 words)

Sorry. Not Sorry.

I do not believe
reading with my students every day in class
is a ?waste of instructional time."

I do not believe
writing can be quantified with a rubric,
ensuring my grading is ?aligned"
with my colleagues?.

I do not believe
good teachers,
like ?anyone,"
are ?replaceable."

I do not believe
women having smaller diameter
basketballs is known as ?modifying the lesson,"
as it requires my belief,
(and, no, I do not believe),
that the ?lesson? is inherently male.

I do not believe
showing four meetings in one week
robbing me of my planning
is an effective, efficient use of my time.

I do not believe
we need to be more like business professionals
in order to be valued,
and worth as much,
as professionals.

I do not believe
you know more about what
goes on in my classroom
than I do.

I do not believe
inculcating students into a culture of
will improve test scores,
(but it will certainly lower morale).

I do not believe
test scores are,
or should be,
the end game.

(Not sorry).

I do not believe
in this definition of ?education"
being created around me.

I believe in my students.

(211 words)

She could not resist
That tug on her wrist
"Let's go get some ice cream, Mom!"


(17 words)

He tried to resist
Putting her on the list
It wasn't her fault she was bad.

She had a rough life
Dad was on his third wife
While Mom failed to find a new Dad.

Her brother was rotten
Her feelings forgotten
He beat her til she no longer screamed.

She had half-sister twins
Who atoned for her sins
They were perfect to Dad, so it seemed.

So one night with no care
Some scissors cut the hair
Of the twins while they were asleep.

With a bat she smashed the arm
And the hand that did her harm
She showed no remorse, did not weep.

Now that Christmas Eve is nigh
Even Santa can't deny
Despite her faults she's paid the price.

So that jolly old Saint Nick
In a move so deft and quick
Moved her name from naughty to nice.


(144 words)
Nancy Posey

Daisy Checks Facebook

She can?t resist searching for him,
nothing more than a look, a need
to answer unanswered questions.

It won?t go further, just a quick peek,
she promises herself, a chance to see
if he succeeded, to figure out why

he never came back, even though
he swore he would. Did he find love,
a home, a family-or did he just pursue

the fortune he decided it would take
to win her? She still remembers
his longing as he looked at her house,
the fountain, the pool, her father?s shirts.

Moving the mouse around its pad,
she first tries James, then Jay, Gatz,
and then on a whim, Gatsby?

and there he iss, still golden, his eyes
so full of longing, his hand reaching out
toward the camera just so.

(132 words)
Tracy Davidson

Star Trek: First Contact

resistance is futile

the Borg Queen
whispers not-so-sweet nothings
in Data's ear

resistance is futile

she introduces him
to the pleasures of flesh
and the pain

resistance is futile

how he's tempted
to betray his Captain
for 0.68 seconds

resistance is not always futile

(48 words)

there is always a dictionary
in my bag

the words on the air
are mumbled
spoken too quickly
even the signs escape me
though they are easier

i can see them

their shapes are more revealing
less resistant to my hopes

the words on the air
flow by

and i struggle

even infants
speak better than me
hear more clearly

and i
with all my words
can say only

mi dispiace
io capito - un po - ma non ho parole per parlare

(85 words)

If Only?

I had my chance and I blew it
I wanted to come? and you knew it.

A resisted temptation is
A missed opportunity.

Why didn?t you ask outright?
It wasn?t for a woman to do so.

Was it because you were too proud
To admit that for once
Your horizon had broadened
To include
Someone else?

And that someone else was me?

And now you?re back in town.

I watch you
Through the window of the cafe

As you sip your coffee,
Oblivious to the world,
At the same table

Where you

Could have
Might have
Should have

Asked me to come with you.

The waitress sees me, and waves.
And, just out of curiosity,
You turn your head.

You start as you recognise me.
You shift in your chair, making to stand up.

It?s too late. I?m getting married tomorrow.

(143 words)

Like Mother, Like Daughter

You and I
rub, two blocks
of sandpaper
coarse upon fine

You call it
butting heads
I, oil in water
no matter the metaphor

the result
stays the same:
words, bowls,
other handy missiles?

But here is
the rub: we come
from the same pool
home and heredity

into our odd
you and I

Great to be here again-thanks Robert! Looking forward to poeming with friends old and new. Peace...

(77 words)
Emma Tranter

i did try to post this last night but it didn't seem to work so here goes again -

Self Care/Survival

These wars always feel too colossal ?
if you can call it war, when they start
shooting before we can even stand.
Most days the only fighting I?m doing is
dousing myself in lavender clouds and
brushing the last bad night out of my hair.
It?s not guns or grenades
but anything that keeps me from bleeding
is a battle won.
We were born into a hurricane,
This poison whirlwind that never lets up:
it?s a revolution just knowing we are
worth anything at all.

(106 words)

The last three lines really hit home for me.

(9 words)


Tempus fugit.
I must admit
that it is my
own fault that I
never have time.
It?s because I?m
always doing
something, nothing
that?s important.

My time is spent
sitting at my
laptop which I
cannot desist,
neither resist
on line games which
seem to bewitch.

To understand
or comprehend
why I?m so bored
I find it hard.

If I?m at work
then it does irk
that there?s no time.
It seems that I?m
always in a
rush but never
finding any
free time for me.

Now I?m retired
and not so tired,
now I can choose
how time I lose,
now there?s no haste
why do I waste
what time I?ve got
left on a lot
of predictive
and addictive
games. There should be
lots of time free.

What?s wrong with me?

(135 words)
claudia marie clemente




(3 words)

And You Broke My Walls

Our afternoon dreams were battering rams,
To send shock-waves down my spine,
I flaked, my lies roaring as they crashed,
Your giggles launching Greek fire,
On philosophies seeking dry shores,
The balm of your dances too strong for my fields,
Your perfume the slow decay of my granaries,
You had clutched my hand once,
All my pigeons had died of heart-attacks --
The sky was a song of your charms,
And I knew I would never be rescued;
Our cooling coffees had assassinated
My noble houses in muffled shrieks,
Your half-conscious touches gentle anesthesia
To my troops shipwrecked in your eyes,
They rest in the cold twilight of your absences,
Their matchstick figurines useless now,
My sulphur spent in mixing fumes,
With your siren promises,
Of happiness.

Take my crown,
Let me help you pillage these streets,
The shards color my hands in red,
I would blood-let my every subject,
To worship the fever that brought you
To my walls.

(165 words)

by August Head

Fleeing across the heartland,
the motherland, my land, fleeing
on all fours, breath heavy and fast.
My lungs resist the air that tastes
of childhood. The body of my home
scarred and torn up to herald in
this new birth of alien ideas.
And all I can do is run, is live
to keep myself a
historical artefact for future
people to find as a truth
for how we used to be.

(76 words)


Fleeing across the heartland,
the motherland, my land, fleeing
on all fours, breath heavy and fast.
My lungs resist the air that tastes
of childhood. The body of my home
scarred and torn up to herald in
this new birth of alien ideas.
And all I can do is run, is live
to keep myself a
historical artefact for future
people to find as a truth
for how we used to be.

(73 words)

A Simple Nod

It is so easy to agree,
to nod your head
and let the words fly unconsidered,
free of challenge,
unremembered to a place
beyond the echoes.

A simple nod
and you are left alone,
to rest and sleep
without the worry of an angry mob
or hungry jaws that snap in pointless fury
at your heels.

A simple nod
that leads to thousands more,
till all those nods
have led the innocents
to prison cells and open graves

A simple nod,
a lazy cowardice
we tell ourselves will have no sway,
while in the hours of our ill-earned sleep
they herd our friends away.

A simple nod
that damns us,
a simple nod
that in our weakness we insist
will harm no one and serve the peace.
A spineless nod,
angst-ridden and afraid,
that trembling,
we still insist,
is easier for everyone
than the courage to resist.

(150 words)
Aisling the Bard

Day of All Fools

Why do they dedicate this day
To celebrating "Stupid?"
I promise you, it's just one way,
One more, that we're all dupd,
To make believe intelligence
Is valued, taught in schools,
But those who feed us poison know
That, really, we're ALL fools
Who drink the kool-aid, eat the pablum, and refuse to see
That "stupid" is the regular response from you and me
If we believe a single word that anyone might say
To indicate that being "fools" is just for this one day.

If you've been watching poli-tricks
And listening to "News"
That's just as Faux and "Foxy"
As a pair of magic shoes
To make you turn into a king,
Or fly without a plane,
Then you should know that everything
Is pretty much insane...
Let's not do April Fool's Day, no, instead let us create
A celebration, "Wisdom Week" for those who know the great
And vital need of all our cultures, from this very day,
Is cherishing intelligence, and throw "da dumb" AWAY!

Aisling the Bard, 2015 All Rights Reserved.

(180 words)


A bird is in my chest,
Its song stifled in the name of humility,
Ready to be freed by the approbation
Of my fellow writers.

What a shock to learn
They do not match my admiration
For words we all know
But which I have arranged in a particular combination.

Writing is easy; we share the ingredients.
We even know the recipes,
Those well-worn meters, forms, devices;
Then why are outcomes unpredictable?

Presenting my concoction without pride,
Careful to hide it, knowing inside the weight of my wit
The expanse of my intellect, the cost of my emotions,
Only to be met with less than indifference.

I do not cry.

Amy Appleton

(113 words)


I slip beneath the veils
of hesitation or maybe
making me stay
here, instead
of fast forwarding my present,
doing what I have to,
but today,
there isn't no way
I can get up and face
the animated society,
just want to
spend the hours
within my confinement,
take a breath
I crawl out from the lake
of turbulence
or captivity,
No, my heart,
today you'll just
listen to my
heart beat.
Lets not be

By Katyayni Ganesan

(81 words)
Jenna McGuiggan

2:54 a.m.

by Jenna McGuiggan

After midnight, everything expands:
possibility, hope, creativity, sex?
all those feathery, heart-beat things.
It all swells and rises, until it all
blurs and tightens around the edges.
My eyes are as tired as the muscles in my neck,
but I can?t power down.
Check: social media (check!),
email (check!),
website stats (check!).
There is nothing to report. Nothing
is happening now.
My husband is asleep
upstairs. The big cat is asleep
at the other end of the couch. Somewhere else
in the house, the little cat is asleep.
Even the West Coast, on the other end of the continent,
is asleep. Only Australia is awake
with its sunshine and drawn-out vowel sounds.
We like clear-cut categories:
time zones, meridians, alarm clocks.
No one likes to admit that lines blur.
We change our clocks twice a year,
forward, backward, do-si-do.
If you would just close your eyes,
you would hear the tune without words.

(158 words)

Bletchley Park

The women strive to break the code
and never breathe a single word
of what they do or what they know.
The women strive to break the code.
The husbands know not what they owe
to the wives who won't say where they go.
The women strive to break the code
and never breathe a single word.

Patrick Widdess

(61 words)

Tightened string am I, sweetly sighing at the pluck of your fingertips.
Calluses newly formed, tender budding habit.

My legs are fumbling parallel lines, atremble with vibration.
You?re untangling each knot this spine has ever curved.

Coming undone is every bit as terrifying as you?d think.
Flexing and fearful, I strain against your inexorable heartbeat.

But you?re a salt breaker, somersaulting centripetal force.
And I crash like the waves, like the blood behind your chest.

(75 words)
Alfred Booth

Very powerful writing.

(3 words)

Hi everybody,

I'm a little bit late but here I am!

"No resistance"
When you look at me
Suddenly the levee?s breaking
Embrace the deluge

(25 words)

Weakened States

O, PD James, do not reach for me,
I will be strong, ignore the embrace
of your murderous pages that slay sleep,
...just another chapter.

I will wake up, get off the couch
where I fell asleep seeking just a few more clues,
push away, fight the lure of sleep ...
...just a little more sleep.

~ Margaret Lee Ferry

(62 words)


I never knew it would be the last goodbye
In July.
The stress in your eye showed all the tell tale signs.
I was too blind to see
For a flood had already started.
But how could you notice when packing away?

I desperately hoped for a glance,
Your smile, a silent signal
It never came.
I told myself, "who cares?" My heart knew.
Traffic lights zoomed past.
But time stood still during those flickering, rushing
Let go. Just go.
One hug. Just one.
I couldn't resist.
I watched my arms went limply around your waist.
You waved and walked through the gate
While I stayed.

(108 words)

Keep writing
just keep writing -
ignore the minefield
filling with
dark scratches
of failed attacks
deep etched scribbles
blooming around -
keep writing
past the road blocks
past the fallen,
this way isn't pretty,
no promise it would be.
just keep writing
one breath, one beat at a time

(50 words)

Resist Stance

This mule of all behaviors
Common as carbon
Rarely self-recognized
Tangible as the skin of a tangelo
Twisted in reasoning as a Senate bill
Hard-wired to our DNA
Comes with its own ill-heeled body parts
Stacked up to the sky with ?No, hell no?
The stuff of heroes and harridans
The real reason gravity works
Don?t fight me on this
I?m not going
Until I?m good and ready
And I?m not

(73 words)

Wave-tossed and then,
another, hgher. Heedless, I tack into at the teeth of
the storm. Better to sink quick out here, then to return
-and drown.

(26 words)

before he called, i had a head full of horses. and maybe
it was just a dream, but none of them were small.

before he called, the road to his house was blocked
with caution tape, and "wrong way" signs.

before he called, my body was an afterthought.
there was no want in my thighs, there was no want,

there was no empty, no need for the ache, anyway i still felt it
like a lost tooth, couldn't stop running my tongue

along the sore gum, i have 32 teeth, a mouth full of opportunities
for lost things. before he called, i was at a party, trying

to forget the way my mouth felt the last time
it was distracted, the last time the teeth were pushed back into it.

now he is calling, and i am tired of an empty
jaw, i am walking, i am slipping silently under the caution

tape, looking past the "wrong way" sign. i turn the doorknob,
walk to his room, his outline in bed, dark, horses long gone.

(175 words)
Margie Fuston

Instructions on Breath

Resist the urge to breathe
in dense smog,
under salt water,
the secondhand smoke
collecting in the corner
of a pulsing club,
near spilled bottles of ammonia,
close to my open mouth.
I will take.
We will all take.

(42 words)
P.A. Beyer

Sunrise, Sunset

Dawn is a babe
unwrapping each day
like a lollipop
in a barber shop bowl

Dusk is, but,
a faded memory
resisting tomorrow
with a soldier?s will

All the while
Noon and Midnight
deny the other exists

(39 words)

An Ode to Myself

stuck and stagnant
stuck, stagnant, and content
stuck, stagnant, content, and indifferent

the aftertaste
of smugness rests
on my lips

long after another day
has slit my wrist and let
the ink drip

into those wedges
where my mind
pauses blankly

staring into change
in all its motley

the color of defiance
softens on the inner
folds of my hollowness.

- Shloka Shankar

(69 words)


I brush past you in the hall, the scent of you for
A single kinetic moment transports me to?
(Dare to resist.)

Shake off those droplets of memory and push
Through the work day; be productive?
(Now this is resistance training.)
During endless, nonsense meetings my thoughts
Slavishly wander back to you; to us?
(How can I resist?)

At lunch, the simple, sensual pleasures of food
Remind me again of where I long to be
(I can resist anything but temptation.)

By the end of the day every impulse is to run
To you, transformed by the heat of my resistance
(Resistance is Futile.)

-Rox Nicholson

(107 words)


Safe, suspended here
In my cozy cocoon
Against your other world
What I know and knew
Is my bed, my house, my only
Don?t hear
Don?t see
Won?t be you
Or drink your unthinkable dread
From this blind house
Won?t give in
Until you cut the silken cord that binds me

(52 words)
Susan Budig

She Resisted the Urge

She resisted the urge
to die for five and a half months
What a soldier
What a gal
She turned her back on death

I watched her drama as
she resisted the urge
to succumb to sarcoma cells
that jittered over T-cells
and cloaked themselves from the knife

At one point, I thought she would
beat back every fang, how valiantly
she resisted the urge.
No flinching
No blinking

But then we saw the truth revealed
in X-rays and white-blood counts
Then we smelled the odor despite how
she resisted the urge
to falter

I look at her now encased
in faux-silk, clasping her rosary
and wonder when acceptance
superseded determination, when no longer did
she resist the urge

An Anapeat by Susan Budig

(128 words)


by Brie Huling

can you get used to the mystery
of it she asks? I snarl and soul-
flip her the bird.


M Y S T E R Y.

The way death forms in my mouth
as I shiver- it?s consonants and vowels,
slow and heavy, weighing like rusty
anchors connected to linked
chains from the syrupy core of your body.
Sinking, drowning, gasping.
Puzzle or secret she might add
in a tone which alone draws hands into fists.
Plan your funeral, leave your
legacy, figureitalloutinthesedays.
You. Have. Time.

(93 words)
Amy Miller


He taught me how to bend their arms
so they stayed. To solder them
solid with lead and resin, perfect
alchemical drops. Each striped
in mathematical candy -- purple
for seven, green for five -- it took
a simple decoder. But how
to speak to me, his daughter
striped in a thrift-store skirt
and cruel punk shoes, this
was more like the keening
barrel rolls of his cropdusting
days. He showed me the logs,
brown old books with the pencil
scratch in his shaky hand:
take-off, land, touch-and-go,
spins, loops, spins. Then back
to the workbench to assemble
more boards, the great dumb
heads of capacitors looming
over the little resistors,
holding on.

-Amy Miller

(116 words)

Resistance to You

In a deep hole of sorrow I met you
Timid at first I dared not show
my true feelings for fear your
intentions were not as mine
and I held back protecting
my scarred and broken heart
Against your onslaught
of soft and encouraging words
I tried to build a wall to keep
them out
but your words slipped through
as warm and inviting as a spring
breeze sweeping into my damaged
and tattered heart and healing
it with a force powerful
and tender as the touch of
a lover's skin.

(94 words)

Love the narrative of this, Barbara ...

(7 words)


I could not
resist you
scratched throat raw
blood on my lip
thumping away
with fist
and meat
both of us
red eyes
green bruises
a shower
a comb
i could not
resist you

(36 words)

Resisting what's Right

She screams bastard,
He screams whore,
A child in the middle,
cant take anymore,
Slurs flying faster,
than fists in a fight,
Together resisting,
Doing what's right,
To separate now,
Will bring such shame,
And result in shifting,
Too much blame,
Apart together,
Two imperfect souls,
Live as one,
On opposing poles,
One screams bastard,
The other whore,
Avoiding a display,
On a courtroom floor,
Both ignoring the kid,
Who sits on the fence,
The one they think,
Is too dense,
But he is wise,
Beyond his years,
Every insult he ingests,
Yes-he hears,
All he wants,
Is a single night,
When mom and dad,
Resist their fight.

(111 words)

I think the last time I took part in this challenge was in '10. It's nice to be back. :)

Not Yet
Just because they say it can't be done,
that's no reason not to try.
I won't accept impossible,
no matter what the reasons why.
There are just too many variables
that might possibly apply
and no reason not to take the shot.
I can't let this chance go by.

by John H Maloney

(74 words)

disaster bound

Tell me how you held on for hours,
Through the wreckage and the storm
Through hell and high water losing time to mourn

Temp me to believe
That there was no sting
No liquid tear
Just a mission on a cloudy day were all loved ones seemed to disappear

Quoted on this: life is a gentle ache whose sweet pain I?ve felt before
Whose rage has burnt my village to the floor
Who set fire to the fields were the children played ?
and the old man toiled day after day

Tell me another story about life?s sweet pain
About the things you?ve lost and gained
Tell me more about the girl no bigger than a sprout,
Who stood on the hill that day and watch it all blaze out
About the death and the pain
About your sweet resistance on that stupid cloudy day

(147 words)
Lynn Burton

Resisting the Words

Embrace the inspiration
in a warm hug
the lines that shape your words
fail to emerge,
they crack and crumble
beneath the resistance
to begin
to ?

(30 words)

You forced the straight path
And yet I remain crooked
My will cannot bend

Like dandelions
My desires sprout at their will
They can never die

You use such harsh force
Bruised, beaten, I don't leave unscathed
Yet, here, still I rise

(42 words)
C. Kess

this night
these limbs
are like crushed sunflowers
hypercompressed hypoteneuses
under the weight
the flesh of
one (perhaps more) too many

daylight gone
the struggle crawling under
that skin

the next day and everyday
they fight to breathe
to reach towards the sun

(47 words)

Procrastination, dear friend
you coax me into your inviting stare
you soothe me in your arms, shutting down my mind
you cuddle me in memories that I don?t have, waiting to hear my cries
I wallow in your embrace
I cannot resist

cindi reiss

(44 words)

"Refuse to Resist" by Armando Guzman
Talking heads.
Fear mongers
swarm in our eyes.
It is our Patriotic duty
to hate and to reject
what we do not understand.
Invasions from the southern border.
A viral epidemic falls from the skies.
Uncle Sam will protect us all.

Patriot Act.
Our soil is safe.
Invasion of privacy is a necessity.
Hack your minds.
Hack your souls.
Pasteurize your thoughts.
Give in to the shackles.
Resist to think.
Refuse to question.
Bow down to the Police State.
Refuse to Resist.

(88 words)
Shelly Mansfield

The planet scholars explain it
A rare yet complete solar eclipse,
Hearkening significant shifts in the world
New beginnings and yes, finally, endings

So why am I surprised?

They say that silence is golden
Yet it certainly doesn't feel that way now
I would do anything for a whisper
A clue beyond these signals of the universe

You're drifting away
What was once a thread is now open space
A void with no remnant of yesterday
No concern for tomorrow

I beg to understand
Wait patiently for an explanation
Which never comes
I'm not ready for goodbye
I ignore your silence

(101 words)


My dad, one of the first Peace Corps
celebrities, handsome like Robert Redford,
drank to fit the extroverted ideal.
He squirmed when interviewed,
and he forever had a mic under his chin.
Ten years later, he downed
screwdrivers before sitting behind
the wheel and then his teacher?s desk.

When I fall into my wine glass
each night, I think of him. I enjoy how
the buzz drowns the clatter in my mind,
turns anxiety into white noise.
Mom worries when I order a drink at dinner.
That?s how it starts, she says.

(93 words)

how can she be dead?
how can the palm trees wave in this ridiculously lyrical breeze?
how can the water feel so cold and then so warm?
how can this town where i first met her now be empty of her?
how can a person miss another person this much?
how was it that she was able to exhibit perfect generosity, perfect love, perfect kindness
and still be so human? i don't get it.
how can i begin just a little to be like her?

(85 words)

To Resistance

I know there are times when every option
feels like weakness, and every door looks closed.
Don?t be ashamed to plead for someone to
listen, even when the only one who
hears is you. There are tender hands who braid
our Milky Way of petitions into the universal song.

It is okay to beg.
It is okay to worry.
It is okay to cry out.
It is okay to be angry.
It is okay to seek comfort.
It is okay to let a stranger in, while holding those close
to you at a distance. It is okay
to be wrong about bunches of things.
Wherever you are:
It is okay.
It is okay.
It is okay.

I see how you rise up from those wordless
hours and name your life. You build a fortress
with the letters in your pocket. But your
alphabet is more pebble than stone.
You can?t undo the past like a shoelace.
Let quiet surround you. Stay.
And listen like a canyon.

I don?t know when you will learn that the sun,
which seems lost to you now, is rising
somewhere else and that the world is never
all at once plunged into darkness,

but you will.

(203 words)
James Von Hendy

Hey, heads up, all! If you're wondering how there can be 687 posts and you only see a third of them, it's because when there are so many entries, the blog software at Writer's Digest splits the entries onto separate pages.

At the bottom of whatever page you're viewing there are two links: Newer Comments, and Older Comments. Click the links to see more poems and comments of appreciation.

(69 words)
Cynthia Page

Fourth attempt to post this poem

These unremarkable days and nights
metamorphose the awareness I inhabit,
in spite of my unchanging ways.
One day ends unlike any other, though routine
rules this day, like the last, and those before.
Like the monarch, waking, eating, moving about,
one place of repose is not far from the last.
Yet, I advance, as if a breeze at my back
is a gentle hand urging me onward.
I learn. I grow. I am new each day,
in spite of staying the same path.

By Cynthia Page

(94 words)

Why breathe
Why everyday
Why turtles
Why celery
Why love
Why calculus
Why time, wrinkles, gravity, tears?
Why is there a sign on a country road: baby peacocks for sale?
Why stop?
Why not.

(35 words)

Steadily, you begin to grow.
You start to resist the forces that are throwing themselves at you.
The force of responsibility,
The force of obtaining a job,
buying a home,
creating a family.
But your resistance is futile,
And you knew this from the beginning.
That impending thought threatens to break through once more.
"I am a child in an adults body."

(62 words)
Maria Grace

My Lord, what is Your will of me?
Long have I striven against the Sea;
In roaring storms have tried to stand,
To keep my feet on shifting sand,
To hold my ground nor think to flee.

And all for naught, or so it seems -
Sea-rocks awash with broken dreams.
Hopes have come to wreck and rue,
And false proved loves I thought were true -
False the course I set for You.
Surf sounds mocking, and gull birds scream...

And do I now forsake the fight,
Despair forever of Your sight?
Or do I choose to stand instead;
Hope, though all my hopes are fled;
Take courage, though the heart lies dead;
And brave the wrongs to make them right?

Behold, alone in wind and sand,
By raging Sea on storm-wracked strand,
I strive to set my course anew,
And trust, though I've no sight of You,
Wrest joy from sorrow - laughter too,
Keep my feet and make my stand.

(163 words)

by b: williamm bearhart

A knot beneath the bark of a birch,
a welt that swells,
my father from the bar from behind the wheel of boxy wagon-like red car?
we?re swerving and my 12 year old hands won?t curl into fists,
ten tiny Corinthian kings condemned to his face,
over and over and over again, his head slumps me over.
Orange-breasted robins pulled into the earth,
worms and the dirt when rains torrent their homes,
a cup of vodka leaving my mother?s lips,
a child from the womb,
this defect of boy
a 26 year old kidney inside a 36 year old body:

How else do I survive?

(110 words)

by: Gene Twilley

Push and pull:
a rhythmic swaying
of boughs unladen
with winter?s frost.

Though gust and blow,
against ring-measured years
of weathering dawns
whether in now
whether in past
she stands.

Abuse heaped upon
while rooted deeply in
though granting safety to
the ground,
her own.

Push and pull:
a rhythmic swaying
of boughs now laden
with spring?s promised growth.

Reaching towards the heavens
no abandon
no thought
no anxious murmuring

Reaching towards the heavens
to what end? to whose end?
to take? and give?
and obtain? and slake?

Push and pull:
a rhythmic swaying
of boughs now laden
with experience, with loss.

How deep do the roots dive?
How much to give?
How much to take?
And where does hope now hide?
Who much to give?
Who much to slake?

Of all speech, who to hear?
Are the all of the ilk
of Job?s friends?
Reservoirs of guilt and shame
Push and pull,
Until I am naught but fuel.

Push and pull:
no rhythmic swaying
of vows unbroken
of promises plain.

Push and pull:
no rhythmic swaying
of hearts unbroken
shielded by growths.

Push and pull:
no rhythmic saying.
Loss. Murmur. Loss.
Lost. Murmur. Lost.

(204 words)

The Blind Spot

Attached to me
Whatever I feel
Is what they mean

Suicide highs
Validation craving
Death lines
The song saving

Can?t you feel?
Pain calcified bones
The blind spot
Is no place for home

Fractured off furious
Personas take shape
You can?t be your own
It feels like rape?

Grave words
Battling to be
Generations slain
Reverberate in me

Eternal chorus
You censor me
Freedom of this press
Is corrupting me

Futile resistance
Gnawing at the soul
Hiding real value
From seeming whole

In the mourning session
I said good bye
To the blind spot
Reflecting in my eye

(102 words)

The cell phone chimes
A deadline looms
Business before the bell
Demands attention

The cell phone chimes
The impulse to answer
A slap on the wrist
Business before the bell
Demands attention

The cell phone chimes
Behind it a world with red circles
And bright numbers
Against a sea of blue
With the promise of friends
That ?like? what you say

But there?s business before the bell
That demands my attention

(71 words)

A prompt too perfect to resist!
Viva la resistance!
Don?t want to brag, but?
I?m an expert you know?
The thing is...I?m even better
At avoidance

But there is hope. Here is what my ten year old son
wrote in about five minutes, while eating cereal, one draft,
no changes:

The Desert
We?re going to the desert today,
Wait, what is that you say?
The place with my favorite animal of all?
the elephant, grey and tall.
They?re very fun, they like to play,
Wait, what is that you say?
Dessert? Yum, a very sweet thing,
I bet you couldn?t resist a
Chocolate-ice cream.
I wonder what we?re having, a strawberry sundae?
Wait, what is it that you say?
The Desert? Aw man! I hate elephants.

(127 words)
Fatima-Ayan Malika Hirsi

refusing minnesota

my father wants me to be cold,
alone, all his. he wants a view of snow
to greet me at sunrise and sunset.
he wants me to forget i was ever in love

as though loving someone is a movie
you can decide not to watch?
in sixty-four years, he was never taught
how to kiss a woman, how to go slow.

my mother says after she miscarried
he did not know how to hold her?
he did not know she was like glass, breaking.
he asked her if she wanted to go home,

gave her the keys,
did not look back before
taking the hand of another woman,
dancing, laughing like his wife was not
bleeding through her dress.

my father wants me
to forget i am in love as though
he knows it is easy?

how easy it is to forget to see
for someone who has always been blind.

(154 words)
Michelle Murrish

"how easy it is to forget to see
for someone who has always been blind."
How moving!

(17 words)

Resisting The Urge
Kari Ann Ebert

She stood at the marble counter
with her back to the window
chopping onions for stew
Her legs were granite columns
Her gaze was set in ice

Bare feet dug into the floorboards
desperately trying to grow roots
Perhaps she could will the knife
into a shackle to chain her there

crying over onions
while he drove off
into the deep night

(68 words)

How very good it feels to be back with fellow poets for another round! I hope you all had a wonderful first day. Here's my offering-

A Note of Farewell
to Icarus

My feet tread through this labyrinth,
each step drawing me closer
to the heart of the beast?
and as I hold tight
to the guide string, I remember.
These mountain valleys
gave birth, long ago,
to gods and tragedy.
Your own father
warned of complacency
and hubris?
to escape this isle
one must not linger too near
the water?s embrace, nor tarry
in the sun?s hot kiss.
The human heart needs
just the right amount
of resistance?
but without the pull of gravity
we can never know
what it is to truly fly.

~ Sara Diane Doyle

(129 words)

Procrastination: The withstanding before a scream

A sudden wind took over the space
Rushing through my papers
As if the end was needed
And that?s precisely the problem?

Neither end nor beginning was established

The books were open
Spring was awake
Shoes were tapping
So many things to taste
And here I am trying to run away

Sequentially I run from you
Paradoxes is what I like to wear
In the whereabouts of a daily never

Sequentially I run from you
Mazes of a lost back, arch with the sound
Passing pages of my Island?s history

The one I neglect to rewrite
This is a curse
Sequentially I run from you present
Zephyr as a guest in my room
Making of the written, kites
Making of the time, clouds

Let?s look at the colorful box
With lights and idealized people inside
I will not be the one to become a pen
Nothing permanent can be done today
Today, nothing can be permanently done.

(163 words)

The Cartographer's Whim

No one knew what a gerrymander's art could become, not while they sat in committee as coalitions of a certain side realigned and redistributed the unwealthy.

Counting apathy as the major vote they'd scan the landscape, mapping out target zones and zip codes, oblivious to the scratches and dents of orphaned war-time babies, overgrown childhood immigrants, and of course-me.

Dusty-haired welfare dependents are circumvented with the swat of pen ink. Foreclosed debtors and their deficiencies-avoided for sake of gentrification. Squatters in a land of land owners and all those who didn't belong tailed that curly edge between wanted and undesirable.

But after all their effort, they so easily missed it: that speck on the satellite, that dip in the ravine, that crinkle at the edge of a mountain. That sprout which would become the harbinger of liberty ripened outside of their district, outside their plans. As if prompted by the stoke of a master mapmaker, the rejects they crossed out with an X inspired the elusive treasure hunt.

And search they did, pining for an artifact that was never theirs to discover. Only searching because our dirt had become their gold.

(194 words)
Kaissi Collins

Teamwork (teaching a special needs student)

You sit across the desk
Eyes on me, eyebrow raised
A challenge.

"What number?" I ask again
Holding up the card.
Blink, blink

Is all I get before
The toy house goes flying.
Touche! I must do better.

I have bubbles.
I have stickers.
I have markers and games and crackers.

I have crayons.
I have chalk.
I have music and clay and dolls.

Again I ask "what number?"
And you slowly lean back
Hands on your ears, you zerbert.

What else? What else?
I've tried it all before.
But then I am saved.

"What number?" says my co-worker.
"Two" comes the response,
Eyes fixed on me, eyebrow raised higher.

Aha! Hooray!
The sass rolls right off me
As I bask in the success.

(130 words)

Brit Graham

Consists of multiple heavy doses
of labored breathing, of feigned silence,
of non-existence if left
Not precisely
the covering of ones liquid eyes
with chapped hands, but a thick
silver ringed-hand clasped across
one's own tired mouth. It's clamped
tight enough to induce mauve and
atmospheric particles, blurring
the vision, flecking black and then
grainy white picturesque

chirped into
the line, hoping for
a response, an echo so as not
to be adrift in the velvet abyss.

Consequence, a missed payment,
an oversight. Spending too much
time with emerald pastures studded
with manure, fertilization
as a result of cud and bone.

The mouth capable of breaking
through barriers. Lips feeding
the ego of others, sticky praise
becomes caught in one's own
throat. Purple mouth parted,
pierced through with a
glistening silver hoop,
the half smile
is sheer
cruelty. But you
see none of that.
You hear the hush and
you hear the hum.
The hum of wires
and sparks, nothing but
the bold and blatant
lie between us.

(175 words)

No Mercy

On the smooth gray surface of the Gulf,
a dolphin breaks the surface and
another follows close behind, the hard
sleek muscle knows its work, finds
little to impede a journey that
could end a second after this.

I have tumbled out of bed in mornings
light as mist and turned away the day,
my face a solid stone, unwilling to concede
the joy of sun, the hope another day could bring.
Here are curtains; here is comfort in the dark.

We hold vigil, you and I, beside her bed,
knowing the odds, refusing to believe
a spirit strong as hers cannot rise up.
The monitors and feeding tube beep
and whirl, do the body?s work. The heart,
sleek muscle, beats. Through window blinds
the sun insists on curling in.

It?s not as though the gulf is shallow, this day
bright homage to a god I try to know. It?s just
that sitting by this bed so helplessly shreds the heart.
The mysteries of dolphin fins and morning fog
resist my understanding. We joke through tears,
the heart beats on, the sea threatens as we search
for comfort through the dark and menacing sea

(196 words)

Untitled (title pending) by Danielle C. Robinson

At the corner of inequality and denigration,
do you not see me and my sisters standing--
not sitting, folding, breaking, or bending, but
standing to push one day and pull the next?

Do you not see us under the sun,

day in and day out,
disclosing our struggles until
they are enumerated
and our voices are reverberated
beyond your order of class?

Do you not see us--
in pursuit of privilege,
nursing our wounds
from a marginalized history to vitalize justice?

Do you not see us-
or are we faceless distractions
in silk, lace, and seawater pearls
on display as we stand against the world
with everyone's daughter watching us?

(117 words)
Ashley Marie Egan

by Ashley Marie Egan

Building up
item by item,
I resist the mountain
of responsibility that
threatens to tumble
across my life.

(23 words)

april adieu

resistance is
your shoes on clean tile

postcard prints
good morning, evening,

and the latent sigh

of greening grass
beneath the april snow

i went
to the window

watched tail lights
tint the linen dawn

resistant red
and never shed a tear

mama said
don?t let him see

i don?t
instead i fog the glass

and trace
the words that lie

in the resistance

of you and i

Amy Glamos

(74 words)

"watched tail lights
tint the linen dawn"

All of your imagery in this is gorgeous; that particular stanza is my favorite.

(21 words)

Love, love, love the unique imagery!

(6 words)

Notes for a Memoir

When I cracked the bowl of your resistance
you mended it with gold.
Your loved ones traced
the veins with reverent fingers.

When I ripped the fabric of your resistance
you stitched the rent edges
with the red thread of connection
and covered my shoulders from cold.

I stretched the ligaments of your writing hand.
You typed directions of escape,
gave me a passport to cross the border
and lined my pocket with bills and coins.

I drive a cab in this new city.
My clients tell me how they hide
from themselves. I tell them my story.
They stow it in the lining of their coats.

(111 words)
James Von Hendy

This is lovely, especially the last stanza, which sews it up!

(11 words)


Snowflake mosses
to cave belly,
edges melted
to yellow crayon.

Angry watercolor
dilutes sunlight
back into
a blue bowl sky;
snowflake tatters
into dark gray rock.

Dusk drips, twinkles,
ruins camouflage,

but salt
edges snowflake's frame
to guard it
until winter.

Vicky Nall

(44 words)
Jacqueline Hallenbeck


They fight me to the bitter end.
Stubborn kids; thought we were friends.
Kids: Listen to your mother.

They really do not mean to fight
but if they feel they are not yet tight...
They'll fight me to the bitter end.

They do not hide to cause me drama
but won't show up wearing bad grammar...
Stubborn kids; thought we were friends.

I did not raise no paper balls.
I will revise, kiddies, after all...
Kids: Listen to your mother.

(81 words)
Michele AKA Twig

Prompt: Resistance

I felt the pull on my heart,
But pain held me back.
The longing kept in check
By fear of past failures.
The future beckons like a comfy blanket,
Safe and secure from unruly change.

Daily routine numbs the mind.
Dreams screaming, dying, trying to escape.
I resist the call as I've been taught,
Like a good little kid seeking attention.
Do as you?re told, remain the same.
Resist the urge to ever change.

By Michele Terwilliger

(79 words)

Consciousness Raising

A balloon would stick to your kid head
if you rubbed it, or to Mary O?Hara?s head,

at her birthday party. Now, friction splits: you
and Mary, both sides of the barricade, one loyal,

one bent on change. A vendor walks both sides.
Science says some things stick, others fly.

If it?s a matter of helium versus the breath
you?d puffed into the floppy blue bag,

did one of you, these twenty earth years,
learn to breathe helium? Twenty balloons,

all the same color, are disappearing into thin sky.

Pamela Murray Winters

(94 words)

I feel myself falling,
Completely for you.
One simple smile,
One little look,
That's all it took;
You got me, I'm hooked.

Ain't no use fighting,
It ain't like I could,
Don't know why I'd want to,
I've never felt so good.
Love at first sight?
Well, maybe second glance;
All that I ask,
Is you give it a chance.

All that I aask,
Is you give us a chance.

(76 words)

"The Hell Hole"
It was my father?s second favorite ride
at Coney Island,
something we could do as a family, despite
our many differences.
The ancient tumbler cycloned
and the floor fell away.
It was freeing,
standing still as the miniature model
of the universe did what it must.
Our bodies pasted to the wall,
teeth bared in the terrified smiles,
of forcibly upturned cheeks,
we were Newtown?s proofs
for four heavy metal minutes,
a family, spun into submission, defenseless and whole.

(82 words)

really liked the last line. That is strong!

(8 words)

excellent description!

(2 words)


No matter how long
my hairdresser
slathers black dye
onto my hair
there is always

gray hair

that escapes the brush

taunting me
at my temples

stubborn, like the
flesh on
my hips
my thighs.

When I am
no, 70
I will let them be.

Just be.

(51 words)
Linda Lee Sand

APRIL 1, 2015


From the very first,
we shuffled our feet
dragged along
made long, listless tracks
in the dust.
Gravity pulling not down,
but away

Maybe we dreamed of coming back,
maybe we dreamed of dust settling,
fates turning,
gears of the world grinding
more kindly

Maybe we said good-bye.

I can never be sure

(60 words)

The Hell Hole"
It was my father?s second favorite ride
at Coney Island,
something we could do as a family, despite
our many differences.
The ancient tumbler cycloned
and the floor fell away.
It was freeing,
standing still as the miniature model
of the universe did what it must.
Our bodies pasted to the wall,
teeth bared in the terrified smiles,
of forcibly upturned cheeks,
we were Newtown?s proofs
for four heavy metal minutes,
a family, spun into submission, defenseless and whole.

(82 words)
Jack Daniel Miles


The tide comes in and washes over the world
The rain still falls

So often when I should, I do not?
Letting the water fill me
Drown all feeling that I own

I shall erect a wall, a dome,
Even place a newspaper over my head
I will let the black ink run down
Over my skin, let the melting words
Stain my soul with their lack of import

How long shall I fail to,
How much time will pass before I do
What wound will scar me deep enough
Before I push away this hurt

Before I stop surrendering to this false fate

-Jack Daniel Miles

(112 words)

The wind catches

How the wind catches
snow off a roof,
tosses it.
The thin flurry, the
gray, everywhere.
Ice on the edges.
Wearing cold like
a hair shirt.
He kneels in the sand,
an unseeing son.
The blade. The way
the wind catches the desert,
light obscured.
Blood on the edges.
Wearing death like
a savior.

(57 words)

When the Cookies Call Me Loudly
By Melanie Maria Goodreaux
(Day 1/Resistance)

when the cookies call me loudly
from inside
a ziplock bag
where they hide
in full sight
nothing between them and I
but the sight
of sugar-brown delight
and the fight
of tug and pull
and no
and want
and yes
and now
and no again

they want me
to have them
want them
have them
to eat them?

my lips offer
no resistance
to open wide
the hunt
of you-can?t-hide-from-me,
blondie babes
of chocolate chunk

(99 words)
Marie Elena

Hahahahaha! Oh, yes.

(3 words)

By Shell Ochsner

Opposition is completely ineffective
as freedom nor servitude matters not

Equally so is the hardship weighted heavily
on shoulders that once were strong

To pursue remorseless is more problematical
when wasted away is youth swathed in misfortune

Failure is the same as success
once the outcome becomes public

To know no boundaries
only then will triumph reign

(62 words)

My hair
This is what it feels like to me
Being normal
Being an everday girl
Being me is resistance

My mother hates it
My curly hair in a fro
Tied neatly with a bow
It's not enough

Because I refused
To be burned
To have my skin burned
For straight hair
Because being me
Isn't enough

My curly hair
My kinky hair
Is too much
Of my nature
Too much of me, my black

My perfectly combed hair
Compared to straight hair
Uncombed, unwashed, unreal
But perfectly acceptable
It's what they want
From hair to toes

Being me is resistance
Being an everyday girl
Being normal
This is what it feeks like to me
My hair

(122 words)

*Byline: Shaziane

(2 words)
Sara McNulty

Lover's Dilemma

Though they shared a predilection
for lustful acts, she had to mention
he would have to use protection.
He protested intervention
of sexual gratification,
but she had no intention
of risking pregnancy or infection.
He could not overcome her objection
so they found adventure in redirection.

(48 words)

"Can So"
by: Karen Wilson

Do not tell me we cannot
we persevere
we commit
we struggle
we fail
we get out of bed
and continue.

(26 words)

For you
resistance was waiting
and hiding yourmetal sparks.

For you
resistance was holding
your stone hands
against the sandpaper.

For you
resistance was arising
from his sleeping bed
dawn after dawn

and clawing a tunnel
fistful by fistful
behind the attic bookshelf
through the peeling paper
the plaster
the wood
the tangled wires
through the dirt
into the woman-petaledazaleas.

Copyright Kay Winter

(63 words)

Thirty Poems, A Poem a Day
(Challenge Accepted?)

The challenge is issued
accept it if you dare
a poem a day for thirty days
do or don't, does anybody care?
But still, the challenge is out
can I just walk away?
how hard can it be
thirty poems in thirty days?
The problem as I see it
is not the task in and of itself
it's whether or not I've got the gumption
to pull the words out of myself
But again, I've never been one
to have little or nothing to say
if nothing else I suppose I can write about
writing thirty poems, a poem a day

(109 words)
Sharon Ann

Resistance Poem

Who can resist the writing
of a poem every day?

A time to think, a time to ponder
what is happening along the way.

Our thoughts, our fears
our dreams show through.

A poem works our words, shares with the world
the things we've done and will do.

It is an honor and a privilege
to write of many things.

Sharing my poems with you
makes me feel like I have wings.

(74 words)


Pushing on your head
in the place where my gut lives,
I had no idea
what pushing your head
through my body would feel like-
your bone against my muscle,
your life against mine.

-Megan Mills
(reposted because I forgot my name!)

(43 words)

beautiful-visceral, but beautiful!

(3 words)
Marie Elena

She was asked to write
a sestina. She smiled, and
wrote a senryu.

Marie Elena Good

(17 words)
Grace Black


The mountains are a painting,
and my days stretch seams.
Ocher is my ether,
a bile shade of brown.
An orchid, bent fuchsia,
curves toward the ground.
A sign, cyclical carbon life,

I inhale?

My days reduced to breaths,
a canvas incomplete...

(43 words)


I am the hero of my own story,
and I know how the plot should go.
Put down your pen! I don?t need an editor.

I dress my arrogant blinders,
made by Prideful Inc.
and set my compass to
the destination of Lost.

(44 words)
James Von Hendy


(1 words)

I love a good dilemma
like the kind where you love him
and he loves beer
or pot
or maybe his ex wife
or the kind where you really want to have sex with him and he can't get it up
it keeps me fit
makes me want to run
or ride my bike really fast
or swim a mile
maintains that tension we all crave in life
I like that rock
and that hard place
stuck in the middle
should I stay or should I go
and wanting to push the eject button
being squeezed like the hugest zit
then wham it hits the mirror

(106 words)

The image is a lie
I am not what I see
I cannot be that
Foreign bulges
Have taken up residence
Stray whiskers
Aches and creaky joints
Frequent headaches
Lack of energy
Thinning hair
But the fire inside
Doesn't that count
For something?
There is a disconnect
From what I see
And who I am
Eager to accept
Any challenge
Without question
A yearning for
Something beyond
This life
There is a power
Buried deep
But burning
Ever burning
And I am not what I see
The image is a lie.

(95 words)
Patricia A. Hawkenson

Day 1 - Resistance Poem
By Patricia A. Hawkenson


Sleep begins
to seduce me
with the quiet promise
that I might hide
within the darkened warps
between the stars.

But self-induced
is as necessary
as the tense shuttle
of my arm
blocking the murky
of my fears.

For there is no rest
in flying,
in running
within the twisted,
warping mazes
where distorted images
are thrown across
my dreams.

I tangle every
sheet and doubt
till only morning
covers me,
and what I thought
I knew
in the light.

(93 words)
Linda Voit

I am with Marie on this! Love that final stanza!

(10 words)
Amy Billone

I cannot resist
Midnight. So long but so brief!
Perfume. Stars. This touch.

(13 words)

Resistance is Fertile

Plant a seed
sprout a weed

one man's weed
another man's feed

roots deep
secrets keep

until ripe for harvest

(23 words)

To Sleep

Rest uneasy.
Words against the white.

Where does silence
hard return
another other

Shifting atlas -
unconscious maps -
swirl under listless eyes.
Cover them by shade
Until the day calls.

(34 words)

Illusions- Inspired by Tracy Chapman?s song ?Fast Car?

You asked me to go along,
gave me a picture of the future;
torn and ragged, faded and scarred.
Just you and I, a place in forever.

You promised me a Cadillac,
not this one room shack.
Careening down the boulevard,
ignoring the motions of the past.

Two young souls adrift,
across empty trails and stolen hours.
Tracy Chapman on the radio,
her fast car no match for your own.

Left her in the dust with your Chevy,
lovingly restored in your father?s garage.
Graveyard shifts and no money to spare,
our path littered with endless gravestones.

Craving a life just out of reach
we feel our way in the darkness,
grab the quick moments in the morning light
that reflects on the faded dashboard.

We resist the attempts at assimilation,
living on the fringes of reason-
using emotions to guide the wheel.
The song plays on as a reminder of our responsibilities.

Tracy sang of hope and hopelessness
gave it all and received nothing.
We ride the same road,
Drifters in the fast lane to nowhere.

She asked to fly away, and I wish for the same,
but the children are the ties that bind
and the life buried in the sand
is the fastest car of all.

(217 words)

"pice de rsistance"

noun ? (especially with reference to creative work or a meal) the most important or remarkable feature.

And that?s all you have to do
Write that one book
with that one poem
with that one line
with that particular turn of phrase
that your readers write you letters about
and the critics try to unravel
for years to come.
All you have to do is find the perfect subject
and combine it with a complementary structure
?each stanza a vessel for greatness?
and the most important words
you can imagine.

This is your defining moment.
It?d better leave an impact.
Better yet, it?d better leave them breathless,
gasping for air in the face of your wit.
Because if it doesn?t catch at the perfect moment in time,
if your words don?t hit as hard as you?d imagined,
if the phrases don?t hold each other tight,
it?s just another line
in another poem
in another book.

(159 words)

piece de rsistance

mercilessly - feet and hands
maybe a mouth, or fingers even -

a constant push and pull
like saltwater taffy, but
in less colourful. not as

sweet either, more like
a twang. a tug at your
spine, like summer?s last
loon call - the one before

the frost. when we finally
decided to sink our teeth
in the meaty part of our wound.

- Sophie Chouinard
April PAD Challenge
april 1st 2015

(75 words)

There is only resistance
where there is intention, will, effort.

And then the force denying:
the wheel, the cap, the relationship stuck
the white of the page,
the cloying hours of the afternoon
the decades of habit that make your eyes
look at your eyes in the mirror
and look away in disappointment.

But not today.
Resistance has been surrounded on all sides
by perseverance which, sharing the will, eases the will

forced effort let's go
push back let's go

and writing about love
now and spring
and time
time left

and love
down the page

(97 words)

I resist, I struggle, I fail, I fall, I collapse
into this chair with wheels, trying to recover
my solid sense of who I am,
who can I be now, who is left here within as
I feel myself fade from
heartbeat to heartbeat to heartbeat,
the strong assurance of who I was
melting like crayons left out in the sun too long -
I have been left out in the sun too long.

I stare down at my legs
strange, unfamiliar, mine but not mine,
disobedient like a bad dog
nipping and biting at my self-esteem as
a strange, unfamiliar melody plays in my ear -
ears that buzz like bees after all the drugs
Drugs I took to make myself better,
drugs that only made everything worse.

But I feel my faded heart protest and
I reach out, my fingers rippling into water, water,
I find water when I search here,
water in me around me through me
I am made of the sea and
the sea always reclaims her own and
I find myself sinking sliding ever downward
my mostly-useless legs finding rhythm,
rhythm that matches my ever-pounding heartbeat.

My skin, my skin is flaking and peeling as
the crazy-hot flames of who I was burn off any trace and
revealing underneath the suddenly bright iridescent scales of
who I am becoming; a wild mystic mermaid.
I inhale deeply under the water feeling the
saltwater flood my veins and pour out of my eyes and
I am grieving my own loss but
my saltwater grief is the force that beats my heart and
I will be the sharpest blade, Goddess-hewn,
ready to be wielded, ready to live the life She has in store,
the perfect tool, somehow, perfectly beaten perfectly broken
for the life She has given me to live.

by Kyeli Smith, wild mystic mermaid, poet + disabled adventurer <3

(313 words)


Every six minutes the tv calls out with wares to sell.
Everyone has one and you should too. Call now or else.
What advertising has taught me about myself,
Might be titled 'self indulgence for dummies'.

In my mail box, every day, trees worth of printed commercials arrive,
overloaded with things I didn't know I needed.
I tried to stop them once, but the system is so good,
you have to be dead to get off the list.

So I began to teach myself to resist the urge,
the need to feed the vanity stirred, instead.
Still I wrestle with this mother of all lessons.

So I no longer answer my phone at home, because the ringing need of the telephone heads
became hue and cry for insurance scams, and burial plots, I will never need.
Who could have guessed that wondrous invention could promote such deeds,
exciting houses around the world to say goodbye to their land lines.

The final hurdle belies a much more personal assault.
Your computer knows the things you like,
and sends you things, it thinks you need.

I continue to resist, as much as I am able
to hold the tide, to fight the flow,
to right the wrongs that brought us low,
an industrial monster, we barely see.

We made him happen, we fueled his greed.
We have sold the world to you, join the team and you can too.
Newspaper, catalog, email and phone, higher, faster, cheaper, better
We've bought into the fantasy, that more is what we will always need.

Before you click to buy that next thing,

stop, resist, rethink, plan out.

Then choose.



(277 words)
Kate Love

resistance is
futile to fight
against him, here
safer to submit

that doesn?t mean
it wasn?t rape
sometimes its best
to stay silent

protect yourself
the only way you
can think to in
that one moment

that doesn?t mean
it wasn?t rape
because it was
and you survived

Kate Love --

(53 words)

by rmp

stand up to

head held high against
fears taunting all around
lays waste to those who torment

"breaking free of life's challenges."

(Note: The above is a clarity pyramid and should, in keeping true to form, be centered.)

(43 words)

piece de rsistance

mercilessly - feet and hands
maybe a mouth, or fingers even -

a constant push and pull
like saltwater taffy, but
in less colourful. not as

sweet either, more like
a twang. a tug at your
spine, like summer?s last
loon call - the one before

the frost. when we finally
decided to sink our teeth
in the meaty part of our wound.

(66 words)
Marie Elena

Nobody warned her
the path of least resistance
may be slippery.

Marie Elena Good

(15 words)

Very clever, Marie. Love this!

(5 words)

And I am known for my bad sense of directions.... But couldn't miss your sweet smiling eye...

(17 words)
AC Leming

Love this Marie Elena! So describes my life right now!

(10 words)

life is such a slippery slope, isn't it?

(8 words)

G. Smith
Coin in my pocket
Bottle in the sink;
I need no reason,
To pour one more drink.

Picture at bedside,
Kids sleeping upstairs;
The need is a wolf
That's suddenly there.

The push and the pull,
The talking to self;
The making amends,
The one on the shelf.

Coin in my pocket,
Bottle in the sink;
I need no reason,
To pour that last drink.

(72 words)
Michelle Murrish

very well done

(3 words)


My sweet young engineers
so fresh to college
have fear in their eyes

They have just met resistors
The first real hurdle
On the road to harnessing electricity

They look around in desperation
Seeking help from friends
Until finally, they rush to me

I hush their terror
Arm them with understanding
Watch them blossom

"These resistors here
Fight the flow of electrons
As they seek safe ground"

"Going through resistors
Drops the energy of the circuit
Because it is hard to pass through challenges"

"It's not a bad thing --
Losing energy against a challenge --
Because it makes you better"

"Once you have fought
Through the challenges
The light can turn on"

"If you don't pass through the challenges
You cannot enjoy
the light"

"For without the challenges
You have not the serenity
To calmly sit in light"

"Just as the circuit
With too much energy
Will surely burn out the light it seeks"

My sweet freshmen
Have so much future
So little understanding

I send them away
To try again and again
To fight the challenges

So that one day
They may rest
Fully in the light

(190 words)

?Threat?or Cute Pest??

Staph superbugs, mosquitoes, killer ants
out to get us: let?s smite with chemicals
that start with anti-, end with ?con. (?Against?
gives extra boost to quell unbeatables.)

Resist with every thread of life, and yet,
there?s also live-let-live. The tiny beast
residing on my porch? We?ve made a pact.
Don?t sweep his pine cone mounds and he?at least

I hope?won?t chew through wires. I stomp, he hops
the railing, pops across my yard on legs
like furry pogo springs, until he stops
and climbs the oak in seconds flat. He flags

his tail: take that! We won?t have a love fest,
red squirrel and I?but he?s cute, that pest.

-Barb Peters

(114 words)


The needlepoint tugs
at the flesh of her forearm
pinches the skin,
sinks deep,
to where the worries and cares hide.
Liquid promises flood her veins
with false indifference
and misguided peace.

(33 words)

Shake the Salt on When She?s Not Looking

to avoid her high blood pressure lecture.
If she sees his red eyes, she?ll say it?s a sign
of a health condition. She?ll insist on making
an appointment for him, he?ll say he?s fine-
Those doctors always find something wrong
and I?m not ready to hear bad news just yet.

He thinks they?d try to give him a prescription
and he?s afraid he?d have to go back every few
weeks to piss in a cup or get stuck by a needle.
Lately, he?s had tingling in his toes, now and then
there?s been those sharp jabs in his right side and
sometimes it?s like there?s a weight on his chest.

He?d agree to go in for a physical but knows
they?d tell him how he needs to lose weight.
Maybe he?ll go this summer, he?d consider it
if she makes sure the appointment is with the
big heavy doctor, you know the one who?s always
in the parking lot smoking cigarettes by his car.

(172 words)
Robert Stanhope

Against Injustice

Fight for relief.
Accept not, heartache.

Driven by love.
Driven by loss.

Accept not, negligence.
Fight for justice.

Peace in proof,
Peace in clarity.

Fight for closure.
Accept not, lies.

(32 words)

Breakfast at Tiffany?s

she would, of course, serve
the main one in iconic aqua boxes

high gloss with a twist:
long-handled spoons

to scoop tiny translucent eggs
from cellophane noodle nests

jet-propelled blast of bacon
foam, pecan-studded
piece de resistance

champagne bubbles up
through orange and ginger
beeblossom nectar

pass the cinnamon-infused
vanilla walnut brioche

Fifth Avenue
farm table

(59 words)

Even the Pines

The pull of limbs and wind
deeper, it calls me
Come, share this earth
we are waking
They are stretching
straining towards the sun
We have survived
they say
They do not whisper
not to me
I hear them speaking
without tongues
The wind whispering
among them
around me
I make my way
through the bend
Overhear Sun and Moon
their silent lovespeak
But I have turned
toward pavement
receding green
and bark
Yet they pull me
back, calling
from deeper
Even the wind
rises against my leave
Even memory
pulls me back
to the trees
the dark
the forest.

A. Ault

(110 words)

I Think The Answer Will Be No
~ by Randy Bell ~
{ A Cento From PAD DAY 1 }

A smidgen of a dark thought it was.
on the brim of his shiny white identity
an odd length between short and long,
in the war of lost bones
I know I shouldn't ? but I can't resist
is there a way to live without you ?
in the court of imagined crimes
My eyes burn in the wake of your stare.
I think the answer will be no
I hope so, as I hold your hand,
And in silence die as we, each day, must part.

Title & Lines by

Sasha A. Palmer ~ Evil
Joseph Hesch ~ Resistol
Lorraine Caramanna ~ Extra 50% Off
Kelly Letky ~ the reinvention of what we can't mention
M. Farthing ~ Resistance
Megan C. Lucas ~ Second Hand Love
Joseph Harker ~ Indiana
sdwells ~ Escape
Kris Miller ~ So No
Amaranthe ~ Idle Hands
dhaivid3 ~ A Love to Forget

(169 words)
Sasha A. Palmer

Thank you, Randy!

A mesmerizing poem, I'm happy my line's in it :-)

(12 words)

Wow. Fantastic work. Learned a new thing i.e. Cento. Thank you and good job.

(14 words)

"There's no such thing as a straight river".

He used to go for
walks on the evenings
of major holidays.

Winter holidays were his favorite.

The frigid bite
of the air as it sank
it?s teeth into
his face
was a welcome relief after being
slowly cocooned
with bad food and casual racism
that extended family members readily supply.

When he was younger,
he couldn?t
understand the pull
the need to
see these people he only
saw on holidays.

What was it?

On his walks,
he?d linger outside
the homes that
he could peer into.


he?d justify his need
of peeping tom
by pretending
he was a cop
on the other side of the interrogation room

Interrogation or not,
what he
bore witness to
was always happier than
what he had just participated in.

He would be in his 30?s
before he accepted
that there were better uses of his time,

before he comprehended the reason why
he went to those gatherings

when he was inside, looking out
of being outside looking in.

The resistance was the attraction.

The shadows resist the light
much like the flesh resists the blade.

The resistance to attend, the feeling of
propulsion from antiquity
was the same reason
that attracted him to spectate.

Without one
the other would cease to exist.
give and take/ebb and flow:

The Universe deals in absolutes.

It is a fact that balance must be maintained

PAD #1 "resistance"
Matt MacDonald
"Give me money and I'll write whatever you want".

(259 words)
Nathaniel Sand

Once, an electrician from Nome
meditated when he came home
but sat on a wire;
sparked right up on fire.
I'd call it a lack of good "Ohms."

(28 words)

Your surgeon hands are picking me apart vein by vein but there is no resistance. I?m open, I?m torn, I?m already soft for you. I?m throwing away everything I kept safe for myself. You?re used to healing but you would be better off trying to mend a sky blown wide open with sunset than this reckless heart. This is me telling you about the destruction you?ll find when you get to my core, all the places that want to be held. The year my father died. The day someone gathered my hands from around his waist and softly gave them back to me. The hotel where fingers met throat for the first time. This is me hoping you?ll show me your tarnished edges, your fault lines that ache to be shaken. Please, please, I?m not asking you to choke down these stories; I?m just asking you to hold them gently.


(151 words)
Earl Parsons


?Resistance is futile?
So I?ve been told
But I believe giving in
Just for the sake of getting along
Is just a sign of weakness

Why go along to get along?
That only stifles our right to choose
And our right to choose is the
Only power we humans have
A power we should use wisely

I say resistance is good
Test the waters before jumping in
Or choose not to jump in at all
For you never can tell
What?s waiting under the waves

2015 Earl Parsons

(90 words)

This is just to say

I have taken the last piece of pie
that was left in the tin
and which you'd probably expected
to see this evening after dinner.

Forgive me
It was so tempting
And, yes, as irresistible as you.

( with apologies to William Carlos Williams)

(50 words)

tried posting this, still can't find it. here we go again
Day 1 resistance


open your self,
he whispers, as calloused fingers
slide upon her smoothness.
chills swirl through her,
and she cringes away.
but deep inside something stirs,
and smolders into life.
short nailed fingers dig
into his muscled arms
as she pulls him closer.
let?s start a fire.

(61 words)


You can't stop a true enemy. Listen.
Listen carefully.
No one wants to hear that you can't win,
that the fight for your soul
is never over. I promise you
wits won't work; even that will work
against you.The secret, what no one
who doesn't already know will believe,
is that you must give up completely, lose absolutely,
and you must do it every day
to even begin to fight.

Courtney O'Banion Smith

(74 words)

tried posting this once, can't find it. here we go again
Day 1 resistance


open your self,
he whispers, as calloused fingers
slide upon her smoothness.
chills swirl through her,
and she cringes away.
but deep inside something stirs,
and smolders into life.
short nailed fingers dig
into his muscled arms
as she pulls him closer.
let?s start a fire.

(61 words)

First time post!

Temper rolls, boils and brawls
ready to run
and even the score.
Burning bright red,
hot steam fumes
goes round and round
enveloping the room.
Pressure rises,
whistle blows
trying to release that hot steam roll.
Swirling angry heat
round and round it goes
with no outlet
no escape to go.
Instead it broils around inside
with no where to run
no where to hide.
Building up inside my head
spewing out in words I've said.
Can't let this monster rage out of me,
must control the anger monster
can't let it free.
Fighting to get a clear & level head.
Choking back on angry words instead.
Can't lose this battle,
can't lose my cool.
The rage can't win
if I refuse to give in.

By Ivette Diaz

(132 words)

Resistance By L.S.Leader
I long to laugh, to love, to be free
To live a life of joy
But chains come to bind me
Walls descend around me
Cutting me off from all I desire
And as I am dragged down to eternal sorrow
I see that this resistance to a happy life
Comes from within.

(56 words)

it's hard to fight a battle that lies within...nicely written.

(10 words)


These unremarkable days and nights
metamorphose the awareness I inhabit,
in spite of my unchanging ways.
One day ends unlike any other, though routine
rules this day, like the last, and those before.
Like the monarch, waking, eating, moving about,
one place of repose is not far from the last.
Yet, I advance, as if a breeze at my back
is a gentle hand urging me onward.
I learn. I grow. I am new each day,
in spite of staying the same path.

By Cynthia Page

(88 words)

Afterload Reduction
(Afterload- the resistance the ventricles of the heart pump against)

Ruby river flowing into tributaries, capillaries
coursing in and around
pieces and parts
sustaining life.

Heart ever pumping against forces unseen, unknown
pressing and pushing
days and nights
depleting calm.

Homeostasis fleeting inward and outward, my soul
craving a reprieve
weary and wasted
seeking joy.

(57 words)

Day 1 resistance


open your self,
he whispers, as calloused fingers
slide upon her smoothness.
chills swirl through her,
and she cringes away.
but deep inside something stirs,
and smolders into life.
short nailed fingers dig
into his muscled arms
as she pulls him closer.
let?s start a fire.

(50 words)

My Student Plays Patrick Henry

I have put up with this crumbling building,
being hassled in the hallway trying to buy
an iced tea while the jocks walk free with
no pass and no comment, with the testing,
the non-stop pointless testing that makes
us all feel dumber for having opened it,
but I will not, I repeat, I will not endure
these bathrooms anymore.

Tell me why there is a divider between
the urinal and the sink but not the two
urinals when man code rules that thou shalt
not take a piss that close together. I rest
with my dick in my hands shoulder to
shoulder with another man waiting
in awkward silence until he is done because
I am pee shy. And what about shits?
Half the bathrooms have no stall doors
so we?re shitting prison style and the
other half have doors that won?t close
or aren?t tall enough to cover us so that
we can see ourselves in the mirror while
we defecate. That is, those of us who try
to defecate in the toilet instead of in
the urinal or sink.

Tell me why anyone thinks it?s okay
to walk in the bathroom and piss in front
of the door or next to the toilet. Then again,
I once was mid-piss before I noticed
that a colony of spiders was nesting in the
drain of the urinal and I was pissing
as fast as possible because I saw the look
in their eyes and feared they?d climb
my stream and attack. No, this I will not
take anymore. Men, here in this room
we are all equal. We are all one.
We must come together united to protect
our rights to empty our bodies in peace.
Give me clean bathrooms
or give me a Snapple bottle to fill
and place on the principal?s desk.

(311 words)

Category 5

I am the stone woman underwater
holding up the sea
with my shoulders.

My stomach is full of gashes,
claw marks from dragging myself in and out
from beneath the floorboard of my abdomen,
ripping out sinew and bone and teeth.

I know how History feels carrying a past so heavy
it sinks like an anchor and pulls you
straight down.
I don't know how to erase the world in me

I know only how to bear hurricanes,
feel the push of the gale
and remain unyielding.

So I'm cutting off my fingers and
using them as bait,
waiting for the day
my storm pushes me towards the shoreline.

(112 words)

A marshmallow,
a pecan cluster,
and a caramel walked into a chocolate bar,
somewhere up in the Milky Way stratos-far,
becoming the Three Musketeers,
amid beers and cheers.
Creating quite a stir and a Krackel beTwixt the wrapper,
they melted together with a Snicker,
these birds of a feather,
and KitKat, the Chunky mixologist,
who?d been on a diet to reduce her Mounds,
went Butterfingers,
her Reese?s Triple-D cups spilling over the counter,
causing a riot on Payday,
and a few casual encounters.

(83 words)


I was there the day Bastille fell.
An armed fortress went to the wayside.
Run, King, Run.
We want her head.

Princes and Princess, we want you all.
The Dauphine, you are not our Queen.
You are not the Sun.
Hark! The peasants will have their fun.

Let them eat Cake.
Give us your bread.
By dawn?s morning break,
We will parade her head.

Your precious Antoinette,
Sun King,
We will kill you all.
The poor and needy will rise in earnest.

Bonaparte is on his way.
You cannot stay.

(91 words)

Hope Resists Eternal

Hope lies still
in the hospice bed.
Her once vibrant skin
ashen and gnarled
like washed out deadwood,
her eyes adrift in the sea
of colorless walls.

She wants me to hold her hand.
Her grip feels like snow
on the verge of melting.
She makes me repeat
my old desires like a bedtime story-
love, purpose, peace, joy-
all the things she wants for me
but won't live to see.

She has refused pain pills,
doesn't want to make it easier
or give Death the satisfaction.
Besides she was the one
who scratched out Doubt's eyes
and snapped the neck of Fear.

She supposes she still has enough
strength to give Death a fight
but I know better, have lowered
my expectations to half-mast.
I leave the room, unable
to bear witness to the rattle
echoing in her throat.

(143 words)

Very nice treatment of a tough subject, realistic ending. I especially like: "Her grip feels like snow / on the verge of melting."

(23 words)

this is beautiful

(3 words)

You?re all I ever think about.
I?m not sure how I can handle
This place you and I are about to be.
I really hate all of your lines of reasoning,
I love that we?re still a part of the same sea.
I?ve been having some hesitations with you leaving,
I resist you moving to Hawaii.


(57 words)

I am uncomfortable posting a work-in-progress where I do not control the content. I am not writing for prizes or publication, only for the discipline. At the end of the month, I will remove these documents.


(37 words)

Okay, try this. There doesn't seem to be an edit button or I would have edited the original post.


(20 words)


Inches away-
The rope is tied,
Wrapped slowly around
My heart
And hers.

Tears, warm
On my fingertips;
What if...?
I need to go,
They are waiting
For me.

The first
a lifetime.

Yards between-
The cord pulled taut;
My feet won't obey
When I think of telling them
To stop

My legs quit,
And bus-wheels take over;
The tension now leaves
The driver pulls against
What I could not pull against

Miles apart-
Abrasions now become open wounds,
Leaving red
To sink to my gut,
Leaving red
All over

And yet,
I am alive.

I pull.

I endure.

(112 words)

You?re all I ever think about.
I?m not sure how I can handle
This place you and I are about to be.
I really hate all of your lines of reasoning,
I love that we?re still a part of the same sea.
I?ve been having some hesitations with you leaving,
I resist you moving to Hawaii.


(57 words)

Resistance, Not
by Eve Castle

Aimless and casting about
floating crooked rivers on a quest
I don?t recognize
the world keeps turning
the unmade bed calls out daily
?where are you off to??
I don?t know
the answer never changes
once, I tried a story on for size
?I?m off to free the oppressed world -
I?ll use grand words for a sword.?
?but no matter how much I want it
my words oppose me
safely, they play in the bright sunlight
or bathe in the glorious moonlight
the closest I get to resistance
is writing about heartbreak
about all the crooked men I?ve known
and how each will be the last.

(112 words)


Not the cruelest,
maybe, but you
feel every icy inch
even here in
your stepmother
of a city. It's hard
to feel post-modern
in late winter. Jean-Didier
takes you to a park
where the skaters
seem to have
forgotten the siege.
Spinning like dancers
from the old stories,
each circle
tighter and smaller
than the last.

Fae Spurrier

(60 words)

Ohm's Almighty Ratio

I caught myself gently rubbing
my face against the sweep-finished
outside my door again.
I absentmindedly find my way
there everyday ?
like a lazy and inaccurate
clockwork fashioned
from finely machined brass,
synthetic jewels,
and a complete lack of mustard
(don't lets be silly!)

I scrape the skin of my face
across the gritty sandpaper texture
so routinely, a face-shaped
scab is forming where there
once were eyebrows, lids, &c.,
replacing the functionally modest
epidermis with a never quite healed
scabrous formation.

Have you ever tried to walk
perpendicularly to the surf?
Like a fat, beardy Kate Chopin
I stand there and watch
the water pound and slosh
ceaselessly against the land,
Sunlight burning me through my t-shirt.

Untold measure of quantum forces kersplashing
Astronomical Quantities of gallons,
(or pints, liters, &c.)
for an essential eternity:

water meeting earth, fiery sun high,
salty, be-gulled breeze blusterily wafting by.

Walk like that for one minute against the incessant saline power,
and in that minute, you'll feel what it's like
to be.

(179 words)
Casey Masteller

Casey Masteller


Hard work, working out?
Out of one?s power zone.

Zoned exercises of resistance.
Resist and push back.

Back to back coordinated routine sets.
Sets, reps, higher weight.

Weightier increments break down muscle.
Muscles repair and grow anew.

A new level of strength to reach but?
One?s reach, Browning said, must exceed one?s grasp.

Grasp catabolic challenges with conviction,
Convinced that the breakdown leads to the breakthrough.

(69 words)

last patch of ice
clings to the shore
reflecting the sun

lines in the lake
fish won't bite
wise to the bait

- - -

C.B. Wentworth

(29 words)
Marie Elena

Lovely, both.

(2 words)

"Thin Mints"

"Just one more?" you ask, with your 4 year old finger pointed to the sky, forming a number one sign. Your head cocked to the side and your smile that is both innocent and devious at the same time. How can I resist? "Yes", I reply, and we both reach for a cookie.

Christine Ahmed

(57 words)

Trying prose poems this year. Think "resistance" got away from me, but posting all the same.


There is no music without pain. As with love, with happiness, with inspiration. All balanced against despair, against emptiness, the soul-crushing harmony-of-the-spheres. We need the sludge to appreciate the gold, fluff to give substance its depth. A Justin Bieber, a Miley Cyrus for every Adele. A Vanilla Ice for every Bob Marley. Not a wheel, not the cycle of life. There is no one-to-one correlation. The ache that squeezes my heart balances some acute joy somewhere, but does not guarantee reciprocation. I read your wedding announcement, felt that wrecking ball swing through my chest. My devastation, your pleasure. The earth turns. All levers balanced.

(121 words)
marcy r

PAD 4/1/15 (resistance)

Rat trap

Rats scuttle behind the walls, defying
our determined campaign to close their holes-
so we set traps, rebait each week, hoping hunger
will snuff their better sense.

Rat traps work by a strong spring
hooked to a heavy wire "U" held down
by a straight wire that lies on top, its
crooked tip tucked under the plastic flap
(tilted up) that holds the bait. The U wants to rise,
but cannot until the rat steps on the flap and
snap! the top wire slips and the U whips over
and breaks the rat's neck.

To rebait the traps each empty week,
you need to press down the wire U strongly
but carefully, master the spring's force-
but forewarned, I can only see frail fingerbones
snapping from a fearful fumble. My mind's set a
trap: fears turn to tears, the task's undone.

(146 words)

I love the idea of crafting a poem around a topic so seemingly "unpoetic." That seems a form of resistance in itself!

(22 words)

Rest the deceiving line of the next dawn
Where you envision
cherished familial moments
exist indefinitely
frozen in time
For upon tomorrow's arrival, you will find today.

(28 words)

(Preferred Byline: Karen Koger)

"Resisted Passion"

I resist you
pulling me in.

Your warm breath a reminder
of what once was
before worlds collided.

And dreams saturated with passion
pushed aside
for busied times
that needed me more.

But now
you are mine to have.

I soon realize
you never left my side.
Still, I hesitate.

Will you stay
like before,
and allow me to fulfill
this passion that is mine?

(71 words)

Pushing on your head
in the place where my gut lives,
I had no idea
what pushing your head
through my body would feel like-
your bone against my muscle,
your life against mine.

(34 words)

No Resistance

Each time he stops the Wrangler
he leans across the seat toward
the lowered window explaining
she asked him to- a bold caption
to the side of a devastatingly sweet
photo. She flashes me her little grin,
clutches a doll adorned with magic
marker whiskers. He reminds her
she wanted to say hi, and she knows
she's the kind of cute I'll pause
my walk for, that we'll stumble over
silence for, that Jeeps will halt for.

Sara Ramsdell

(81 words)

sobriety (1/30)

remembering a time without the nearly unshakable, subtle substances embracing her being is like trying to revisit the most vivid dream that sits pridefully on the tip of her tongue, waiting patiently for just the right amount of struggle.
it?s like riding her sweet yellow raleigh up forty-five degree angled hills on the highest gear, and certainly is something earned in back-breaking isolation.
and that's just identifying a state within reach, finding a familiar park bench to stop and rest on this lifetime of habitual highs, unintended free falls.
her daily existence is defined by a customary conversation inspired by Joe, who seems to be often forgotten when it comes to heartfelt diatribes and soulful pleas for abandonment of something special, her very own cherished dissonance. hers in all of its imperfect perfection.
and who can forget red-headed Mary, who makes beautiful, ephemeral patterns out of suffocating wisps of heaven?
their perspectives always open windows to rooms she left shuttered, rooms decorated with stuffy nostalgia, inhabited by pushy anxiety and haunted by open wounds that won?t scream, but fester and rot her.
each ticking tock that finishes lap round the clock is just a not-so-silent reminder of where you will find her, there at the corner of the bar with old-fashioned Basil Hayden or some chump, depending on the severity of the moment, the lightness of her pockets.
it?s a hard race against an always imminent storm, especially when the miles behind are engulfed in something even more sinister and wretched than darkness.
like Eurydice trapped in hell, she can?t escape this underworld she?s learned to call home while he?s still looking back at her, while there?s still something to look back at.

(285 words)

Morning Comes Too Soon

Colorful rooster
Fluffing his feathers before
Crowing ?Rise and Shine!?

Glowing sun fingers
Rising over the barn?s roof
Promising a beautiful day

Morning song birds
Perched among the limbs
Chirping ?Wake Up Sleepyhead!?

Vintage radio
Playing the Fab Four?s
Song ?Good Morning?

Dearest Hubby
Enticing with a cup of coffee --
I roll over and cover my head!

(62 words)

Get Off My Back

Have I repented
To the point of fault
Am I blind
To my own goodness
Do I not
Want to let myself succeed
Perhaps all this time
It has been myself
Who consistently disagrees
With my own ideas

I must be resistant
To my own existence

(50 words)

Worm Snake

I recoil
in the clear plastic corner
of the storage bin.
A bed of leaves and soil
and rocks five times my size
compassionately provide
a place for me to hide
from you.

Your heavenly hand descends
to intervene:
for my thirst-
a tray of water,
for my hunger-
an ingenuous worm.

Tucked under the stone
I imagine I am alone,
but you are with me.
Hating myself
and shedding my skin
against the brush,
I morph into a snake yet again.

Every mirroring scale
reflects your smile
as you peer at me,
your beloved.

I draw back to strike,
as you turn off the light.
Perhaps, you think I am scared
to look you in the eyes.

But now I am too stupid to be afraid.
I hiss in the darkness.
I sense you everywhere
and rage at you
for saving me from the scythe
when the stone was rolled away.

(154 words)

I am too much with water, they say.
I take the shape of whatever keeps me,
Save they be hands
I will slink quiet through fingers who
have failed to learn how to hold me.

I am too much with water, they say,
But what do they know of the ocean?s depths,
Of countless unnamed men drowned in sea?

I am too much with water, they say
All flow and no fight.
But even the greatest mountain
can be carved by the smallest stream
and what is that
but resistance?

(90 words)

G. Smith
A king bumps the line;
hook set, drag whines; clear the rail;
let the fight begin

(21 words)

Holding it together

I know that
there are a finite number
of transmission pinion carriers
to produce
I know that
my pink slip is just
a Buddhist prayer card
on the desk in HR
yet to be filled out
I know that this work
my savings my lively-hood
can be wiped out
I know that unemployment
runs people like me
down into desperate place
in the head and heart
I keep showing up
I resist the urge to give up
this little chance

(83 words)

Dedicated Predators: Samurai Aphids and The Flowerfly

A samurai aphid, a soldier nymph
treks down silken threads,
her waxy coat white
like powdered sugar, popping each
egg between massive forelegs,
a genocide of the unborn.

If allowed to emerge
from drowsy and dreamless
incubation inside that pearly egg,
the flowerfly larva is hungry
must feed, will hoist an soldier aphid
aloft and devour her?soldiers
are always her?sucking the sweet sap
out from the thorax like a mosquito
the dying soldier thrashes,
powerful legs and
horns useless.

The larva lumbers on to its next victim.

Armed with parthenogenesis, a breeding aphid gives birth
to a soldier-female, so eager to engage that pulls herself out
of her mother at birth, who begins birthing another, perhaps
a breeding female?bearing the waiting embryos of the next
generation at her own birth

resistance through diversification
resistance through ready reproduction

(147 words)


I rake away the detritus of winter?s storms
eager to coax the grass back to life
after its slumber under snow
that still clings in the shadows on the lawn
the sun not yet strong enough
to force its last exodus
yet warm enough to beckon
to clear away the matted leaves
and soggy stalks
until I see that I must stay my hand
from tugging at these leafy homes
of wooly worms and sleepy snails
the tiny twigs for robin?s nest
and shelter for the hermit thrush.
The rake is meant for later days
When resistance to this urge will falter
Sacrificing chaos in the kingdom
For order on my private acre

(114 words)

I'm going to be writing on the theme of renewal for this challenge. So here goes.


I?m telling you,
he?s not going
anywhere?got his heels
dug in, back against the wall.

It?s always sad to see
when somebody
can?t tell that their time
has come and gone,

that they have
overstayed their welcome.
I mean, he really needs
to be out of here.

She?s already started
moving her stuff in
all around him.
Her time has come

as his fast slips
away?and yet
he still
doesn?t know.

So exactly how does one
go about evicting
Old Man Winter,

Copyright Ellen Evans ? 2015
(4.1.15 PAD a resistance poem)

(111 words)

that is a secret I would love to know! an enjoyable read.

(12 words)

Great metaphor. Reading it, I kept thinking of my dad's slow descent into dementia and how our family literally needed to "move...stuff in all around him." Well done!

(28 words)


Don?t want a mess from
my high-carbon paring knife.
?Cause who?d clean it up?

(15 words)

The C Word

The C word finds me
Quiet non-threatening
Speechless and abused
Holding on to life
That shines with treatment

No expiration date given, none taken
As others leave before me
In a post traumatic obsession
Induced by a mask
That wards off radiation.

(45 words)

grocery bag
caught in the shrubbery ?
what a drag!


(11 words)
Kellie B. Moore

Saying No

?No, mama.?
My first sentence
Was a stubborn one.

I don?t know
What I said no to,
But I knew: NO.

Grown-up me
Has a hard time
With this word.

I say too many yeses
To too many people
And too many things.

?Will you??
?Can you?
?Do you mind??

?I?d be happy to.?

Grown-up me
Feels guilty
Saying no.

Like I?m slacking.
Disappointing them.

Until a wise friend
Asks me:
?Will they survive without you??

I say yes.

And I rediscover no.

There is freedom in no.
There is joy in no.
There is time in no.

With each no
Comes a gift:
A better yes.

Yes to sleep.
Yes to long walks.
Yes to writing.

I?m learning to say no?
A no for a yes.

And no regrets.

(136 words)
Lynanne Carroll

Love following the journey! Great poem

(6 words)
Kim King

Push Me, Pull You

You tug, I pull, we lean
into each other, breathing sips
and gulps of mine and yours??
pushing back, digging in,
ours not working, like the clock,
microwave and oven. But,
we can use the stovetop, look
at watches, avoid the clutter,
share some beers, forget the time,
and exhale into shared nostalgia,
sometimes crossing to the other side.


(64 words)

Spoon from Andersonville

Whittled rudely from a stray branch of ash wood
handle worn smooth but sticky from rough, grimy hands
concave end jagged but functional enough
to sip gruel from ? when there is any.
A simple but vital instrument:
in this gruesome, evil place

a wooden spoon
restores a semblance of being human.
What they call ?food? from a bowl or ?water?
from a piss-filled trench ? both seem more savory
swirling around rotten teeth when
you don?t have to lap it like an animal.

Such a spoon must be guarded though. Desperation
makes even friends your enemies when
everyone ? even guards ? sweat and starve
puke and die. Keep it close
to your smelly, scrawny body before ?
Hush! Here they come.

(126 words)

Andersonville.... I've read so many documents, seen so many maps. Then read the play, saw the film: "The Andersonville Trial". Your poem brought back all of this. Beautifully written. Thank you. (PS: Your "Spoon" reminded me of Robert Pinsky's, "Shirt". )

(41 words)

Smothering All Resistance

I slip beneath your silvery flattery;
in all its glimmering hues of black, white, and grey.
because you know all I will see is the prism of your relentless adulation;
undulating me with their sharp, refracting angles of rainbows,
it isn?t until you leave that I realize the prism?s translucence..
but without fail,
I am too late.

- Elizabeth M. Clark

(67 words)

Willfully Blind

How could you do it?
How could you look me in
the eye
and begin spouting
nonsense, claiming
global warming
is a lie
That capitalism,
"done right" is an
avenue for social justice.
Let's not forget your
idea that anti-discrimination
laws are unnecessary.
Paranoid about over regulation
of individuals, you
in your white space
would give up the
protections for others
to satisfy your need
for self-determination.

Your pundits make
False claims.
Your mind distorts
Your rigidity kills

Stop believing that
meeting resistance
means that you
have found
the truth,
that you can now
stop listening.

-Erin Pendleton

(102 words)
Paige writes

Her bony elbow digs into my side
as she wriggles out of my lap,
resisting my embrace.
She's six.

It's always been like this.
As a curious, squirmy infant
and even in the womb.
Those elbows.

But I honor her resistance,
her independence.

That's what unites us.
For every action, there is an equal
and opposite reaction.
We can't resist each other.

Paige Clancy

(64 words)


My eyes burn in the wake of your stare.
My skin cringes as your body brushes against mine.
Your voice seeps into my veins and crushes my soul.
I smell your venom as I sit down next you.

Danger sirens blare through my head,
a course of destruction is imminent.
My fingers caress the healing welt,
my heart cries for something I do not know.

Desperation and fear wrestle with logic.
A mist of tangled images rush my brain,
I am dizzy with confusion.
Loneliness is my only friend in this dark pit.

There, in my anguish,
I hear the voice of a small child long gone.
Stubborn and determined, she shakes me.
I take a breath, and I run.
I will resist this time.

(126 words)

?In too deep?

I tried to resist
you were too wild for me
but your bedroom eyes
would not let me turn away
I found myself in too deep

A. Sturdivant

(31 words)

The Undertaker

Each day is spent, tending to the dead
Applying my craft to restore some life
Their faces I see, as I lie in bed
Always praying, that it isn?t my wife

All the tears and the smiles
The pain and the grief
The long vacant aisles
Provide no reprieve

Some will go, six feet under
The dreary cold earth
While we are left to wonder
Could this be a new birth

The cars drive away
And I am left to stand
A lone tree doth sway
As this desolate man

(92 words)

Unrelenting Love

would be easier
if i could resist
the temptation to fall in love
so easily
so freely
give of myself to
who think
that i
be there always
for them
like the never-ending story

(39 words)

Ain't that THE never ending story?

(6 words)
Natasa Bozic Grojic

A Padlock

It is not free.
It doesn?t sparkle or shine.
It can?t come to you
when you call it,
or take you home.
It watches you leave,
then it waits for you
to come back.
It has nothing to do
with love,
no matter where you decide to put it.
You can drown the key,
but it won?t keep you safe.
It?s rarely silent,
but that doesn?t mean it?s alive.
It offers no resistance.
Any child can break it.

Or read it here: http://natasa-summerblues.blogspot.com/2015/04/a-padlock.html

(85 words)
J.lynn Sheridan

The Mistress

The shifting tilt of the sun?the lost art of the coy.
The slow gin of July?the seasoned cane of wisdom.
The unimpeachable stars?the hope of the grieving.

The poet cradles his metaphors inside his bosom
rocking them to sleep under twin vintage quilts
until their voices cry out and burn through his vain

Tomorrow he will form them into flat script.
Tomorrow he will woo and charm a dozen more.

(73 words)

Beautifully written.

(2 words)

Resistance ? BJ Reiter

Piling up
Choose one, choose one
I close my ears
I close my eyes
Choices thrown
Bouncing off me
Piling up
Choose one, choose one
I pull my head into my shoulders
Cross my arms over my face
Choose one, choose one
A single tear

(53 words)

The Resolve: In Defiance of Loneliness
by: Lydia Flores

I kiss you, but you see, I taste nothing on your lips now
Tell me you love me, your eyes beg, and I say nothing at all.
I sip my coffee too soon and my tongue lashes in resistance.
I think to myself, we rather a pseudo-love?s imprisonment than
the vast freedom of loneliness. And that moment I rise, as the
music continues to play?

The rubber band stretches, like the hand
your hand pulling at mine into you, into
disclosure, in the lustful kiss from your mouth.
And I am stretched, my muscles agonizing but in love.
They say love can stretch the distance, a mountain high,
a valley low, far and wide. How far though? until the tug of
war is lost from weakness of our arms. Until the middle
where we we?re supposed to meet snaps. until I decide to
let go and everything you had to give comes flying back at you.

You ask me to dance I turn my cheek and I gather my things.
You?re leaving already? you say. why don?t stay again tonight?
I?ve got? you ramble on plans, I only half listening,
clutching my coffee at the door.
Biting my lip, turning words over on my tongue
my wanting to stay gnawing on my need to leave
my nerves jittering like fire flies inside my belly
I want to?falls out my mouth like a dry cough?
How much is enough if there can never be enough?
enough happy endings to drown out the whimpers
of the heart from it?s last breakage
enough air in the lungs to hold my breath
before the collapse into desperate puffs
of wordless groaning for the breathing to continue.
enough cold to rob the body and leave it shivering
in it?s bones, before spring comes, slow and gentle
to rekindle the fire, and melt the heart of stone.

I look you, and softly I say:
?But I can?t do this, anymore.

(333 words)

trust the club, says the pro
just let go; just let god
give it your all
let 'er rip

no, I celebrate the half way,
the almost, the nearly.
the step forward that lurches back
the stumble, the whiff

at circus school I laddered,
I chalked, and took the bar
as offered - except my arms -
those I did not relax

swinging out as corpse, not dancer
holding tight against the rhythm
that would have made me flight
a clock pendulum, heavy and slow

until the order came,
I lay back
and I fell

(95 words)

G. Smith (BMI)
I've known her since high school,
She mostly gets her way,
All she has to do is smile,
And there wasn't much that you could say.
Oh, she'd tell you that she'd compromise,
But you could see it in her eyes...

You were in for an uphill battle.
A long hard climb;
Trying to get her,
To change her mind.
She'd dig in her heels,
And stick to her guns;
When she said it was settled,
All talkin's done.
When she said it was settled,
All talkin's done.

When I say today we will,
Chances are she'll say we won't;
If I say I do,
Chances are she'll say I don't.
She'll almost always pick the other color;
And just like then when her mind's made up, it's all but over, Brother.

It'll be an uphill battle.
A long hard climb;
Trying to get her,
To change her mind.
She digs in her heels,
She sticks to her guns;
When she says it's settled,
All talkin's done.
When she says it's settled,
All talkin's done.

You might as well try,
To pull the moon out of the sky;
'Cause when she says it's over,
All talkin's done.

(202 words)

What if your hand left hand on the slight curve of my back is more intimate

than a first kiss I gave Anthony, my mother?s best friend?s son, who was wide shouldered and lazy eyed, and once stopped by on a cloudy cold Sunday while our mothers served the after-church-crowd Sunday brunch.

So like this moment, but Tony soon left me alone again after he went to prison for also kissing the little girl down the street in ways I had ran away from.

But what if after the loss of a kiss from your lips to mine, do not cause our world to crumble after all.

(107 words)

"Water Baby"

Dropped like a stone
Before I can walk

Down, down beneath
Fragmented light

God's hand is at my throat
His other between both lungs

Until arms and legs,
Fingers and toes

All begin to move
Through the shades of blue

Only this far down
Do bubbles look like stars

I who cannot walk on land
Can see constellations beneath the earth

(63 words)

1: Resistance

Lullaby in Ohs

Gummy bears lap gently at your toes
scrubbing them green before you doze

and sip clotted cream where the breeze never blows
where ancient terrors have struck their last pose.

Listen to my thrum and don't dare suppose
out of deep paramensia will spring crystal prose

more likely rank water shall spew from this hose
while derelict orphans cry it glows and it grows

but never mind, dear, no one ever knows;
don't fight it now, shh, let your eyes close.

(86 words)


When we become mature (we don't say old)
We find our bodies do not like the cold.

We find that with our age come pains
And all our joints start hurting when it rains.

We call the rudeness of the young so declasse,
And bristle at the thought that we're passe.

Of things we do not understand we're wary,
And that is why we often seem contrary.

So listen up you young and high-fallutin,
Your turn is coming, sure as shootin' !

(83 words)
Tom Hayes

Sorry for the duplicate... I have triple searched old & new comments without finding my prior post.

No Surrender

Impenetrable stillness surrounds your being
Yet my mind hears your laughter.
I can not accept this permanence.
Yet my protests can not reverse it
This mortal race does run its course.

Impossible that we will not walk together
Nor share a meal by firelight's glow.
Nothing can reignite the dampened embers
Except the spark of my memories
Where we shall linger side-by-side.

Your lethal slumber can not claim your entirety.
I feel your energy as birds take flight.
Your breath flows on the wind through distant trees.
You survive in my dreams of crimson sunsets.
My acceptance will wait until I join you on that far shore. .

-by Tom Hayes

(130 words)

"a subtle rebellion"
by: marisol dela cruz

we carried our feet across the crushed gravel,
swinging broken beer bottles in the air
and shouting drunkenly, ?we are the future, we are the future!?
like we had something to fight for.

at night,
when everyone had already gone to bed,
we threw red paper cups to ground
and set the abandoned school building on fire.

the cops beamed their fumes in our faces
in a desperate attempt to shove our bones off the highway,
but the gods flooded the bridge with defiance
and washed the blood away
with their hands.

i knew it wasn?t a dream because when it was over,
our skin was covered in ashes
and slivers of light spilled from the blinds
even when the world
went dark.

(130 words)

Please forgive if this is a repost. I submitted it earlier and just can't find it. Who can discern the constraint I used? ;)

resistance creates art

a star traces a satin stain
rains caress sea crests
a tree restrains stares at sister trees
a rat entrances a cat at rest
ants race near a cane?s center
an ass canters in a trance
ears strain at a rare train
art incites resistance rants

(72 words)
Jaye Words

Resistance (On learning I have many food allergies)

Changing my life is not what
I wanted to do this spring,
But since it isn?t an option,
I?ll deal with the dad-blamed thing.
Allergic rhinitis is its name;
I?ve dealt with it all my life.
Congestion and trouble breathing
Has sometimes caused much strife.
I?ve taken antigen shots
Each week for a score of years.
They have helped, but not cured,
And often left me in tears.
Why couldn?t I shed these symptoms?
Would food testing finally show
Why I have this problem to fight, and
To what specialist I should go.
At least my one bad allergy
Is to shrimp, which I don?t eat.
The bad part is I have to quit
Eating eggs, dairy, and wheat.
I?m resistant to changing my diet;
I think I?d just as soon wheeze,
So I can keep eating a biscuit
With bacon, egg, and cheese.

(152 words)
Stephanie H.

I Wait for You

Sixteen hours and counting
the sweating
the burning
the pushing
the yearning
to see you
to hear you
to kiss your sweet face

Stubborn little guy
not ready
not willing
fighting all the way

Sixteen hours and counting
the waiting
the hoping
the praying
for life
for health
for an end to this pain
and ?Dear God, please
tell me that he has my nose.?

(69 words)

Resist Dance

Like oil opposing water
(repelled, drawn) this duel of allure
slips through innocent's intention
Patience pulses, facade demure

Attraction attempts to mingle
with taboo, then retreats again
A game of forbidden folly
patience pulses, facade demure

~Michele K. Smith

(41 words)

It's the first of April. Day one.
I'm going to do this. Really.
As soon as I throw in a load of laundry
I'll sit down and write.
But should fold those towels.
And I really need to do my nails.
Is that the doorbell? Just the mailman.
I have to pay these bills.
What? I would love to go shopping!
I'd better start supper now.
A poem a day? No problem.
Really. I'm going to do this.
Just as soon as I stop resisting.

(85 words)

The tug of war ceased
Stopped dragging her through the mud
When she dropped the rope

(16 words)

Why Should I Change?

So these times, they truly are changing;
A new outlook on life - is that what you?re craving?
But it?s not the future you think you?re saving.
It?s an undercover scheme to disrupt my life.

This simple life of mine is free and serene,
Quaint, calm, quiet and clean.
Well, at least that?s what I live to think and dream.
Please bury that burning knife.

Your attempt to slice me up, will surely fail.
Rule me? Control me? I?ll set sea and sail.
I?ll do what I can. To any avail.
I do not believe what you believe to be right.

So listen here as you try to change me.
I won?t bend or budge. This is who I?ve grown to be.
Leave me alone and let me be me.
Do you really think you can be my guiding light?

Stop. I?ve had enough. I don?t care if I?m strange.
Do you know my true potential? Why should I follow and change?
This is my life. Remember? Even if it seems plain.
This resistance will advance and fulfill us with strife.

(185 words)


I didn?t know him till the summer I turned ten,
but then he tried to be all I was allowed to know.
His box of rules: eight sharp corners and six slick walls
kept me in check, or tried. And when that failed,
there were his fists and feet, his harsh, loud voice,
?You rotten piece of shit!?

Outwardly, I pretended to comply,
learning to make one simple reply to each demand:
?Yes, Daddy, anything you say,?
defusing his nitroglycerine before it could erupt.

But in my mind and away from him,
I stood my ground in every way I could,
dizzy with the thrill of living out my hate:
I drank, I smoked, I stole a treasure chest
of baubles from the Five and Dime
keeping them hidden in a drawer I almost wanted him to find.

Nightly I would fondle them, each one a gleaming piece
of the armor I was crafting for myself. Some nights
I crept out and spent hours kissing some strange boy
until his scent and touch filled my whole body
with delight. Or if at home alone in my dark room,
I?d conjure up one boy, or all of them
to sport with in that wild, sensual game.

My resistance to my father?s box of rules was like an ooze
of golden honey flowing from beneath a solid oak door.
Night after night it spread until it found a secret pond to fill,
and fill, and fill again, as I spent my whole adolescence
in its amber honeyed glow.

(257 words)
Eleanore D. Trupkiewicz

Wanting and Not Wanting
(Eleanore D. Trupkiewicz)

Press. Taste the tempting telltale
clutch?one face against another,
bittersweet nothings. Turn away.

Push. Mouth to mouth, cranberry:
curdled, puckered, semi-sweet
stroke, tongue against tongue.

Press. Wanting the bitter means
not wanting what was once
sweet, bright white, quick soured.

Push. Expect more, believe
nothing: wonderment a quiet,
unlikely place. Turn away again.

(60 words)


I didn?t know him till the summer I turned ten,
but then he tried to be all I was allowed to know.
His box of rules: eight sharp corners and six slick walls
kept me in check, or tried. And when that failed,
there were his fists and feet, his harsh, loud voice,
?You rotten piece of shit!?

Outwardly, I pretended to comply,
learning to make one simple reply to eacj demand:
?Yes, Daddy, anything you say,?
defusing his nitroglycerine before it could erupt.

But in my mind and away from him,
I stood my ground in every way I could,
dizzy with the thrill of living out my hate:
I drank, I smoked, I stole a treasure chest
of baubles from the Five and Dime
keeping them hidden in a drawer I almost wanted him to find.

Nightly I would fondle them, each one a gleaming piece
of the armor I was crafting for myself. Some nights
I crept out and spent hours kissing some strange boy
until his scent and touch filled my whole body
with delight. Or if at home alone in my dark room,
I?d conjure up one boy, or all of them
to sport with in that wild, sensual game.

My resistance to my father?s box of rules was like an ooze
of golden honey flowing from beneath a solid oak door.
Night after night it spread until it found a secret pond to fill,
and fill, and fill again, as I spent my whole adolescence
in its amber honeyed glow.

(257 words)

Mindful Resistance

Waking up
going to sleep
all the changes in between
crowds of people
surprises unforeseen

highs and lows
forward movement
and Insulin it seems
hot and cold
wet and dry
anything to extremes

Fighting in my head
filled with dread
over silly little things
when even I know
resistance is futile
these winds fuel my wings

Letting go
and saying no
maybe that's the key
to life, the universe
and everything
what will be, will be

Lindy Teachout-Mailen

(81 words)

A Foot In The Door

The first two visits, I don't even look at you.
You've put out for a hell of a spread,
But I don't fill your pipe, and I don't touch
My cup. The house feasts on my refusals.

For these few days, the power of
My denial keeps this world afloat.

The house has done its diligence.
The spies report: a small income,
A small house; men respect you;
Good connections on the black market.
Your sword is legendary,
My maids giggle, even with all I've seen.

On the third visit, I can drink,
I can smoke, I can listen to your songs.
Two old warriors, we can't keep our hearts
Still at the smell of a challenge. My hands
Plunge beneath your robe, and I can drown.

(132 words)
Emma Tranter

Self Care/Survival

These wars always feel too colossal ?
if you can call it war, when they start
shooting before we can even stand.
Most days the only fighting I?m doing is
dousing myself in lavender clouds and
brushing the last bad night out of my hair.
It?s not guns or grenades
but anything that keeps me from bleeding
is a battle won.
We were born into a hurricane,
This poison whirlwind that never lets up:
it?s a revolution just knowing we are
worth anything at all.

(87 words)


In need of a change, I
avoid her Facebook page, although
it had been a regular stop. There lie
tidbits from her life, things
she used to share with me, and
shares no more.
She lived in the center of my heart.
Now she is a stranger. Our
lives are different,
I resist thinking of her,
avoiding the attraction
of Facebook leavings
sprinkled for the masses.
I refuse to poke and worry at
these sore edges of my heart,
at the jagged hole left
when she ripped
herself free.

Shethra Jones-Hoopes

(93 words)

Resistance is Futile

I hear you call my name
and my body tenses.
My face turns away, but
the rest of me is drawn
to you. Your call is like that
of a siren, soothing
and strong, yet I know you
offer no true comfort,
just moments of pleasure,
if that, and yet I can?t
seem to ignore your pull.

(60 words)
James Steinhoff


What you are reading
Is not the truth,
Merely a shade
Surrounded by never ceasing light
A fragment of thought
Surrounded by idle streams
Of endless resistance

All of this talk
That we have been sharing,
It isn't really talk

Am I talking to you now?
Think long and hard
You know that it is not true

You merely think
I am talking to you,
But don't worry about it,
Because I am
Just as delusional
As you are

The fallacy of the digital age
We replicate what is real

Never has there been a time
Where so many opinions
Could be presented
Never has there been a time
Where so many opinions
Have mattered less

We are sending everything
We have into the ether
We are wizards and conjurers
Of a new century
Everything is there
Except for raw materials
That will stand the test of time

We have gotten very good
At our meticulous craft
So good that we,
All of us,
Have forgotten
What matters most

We are trying to connect
But we are missing
Our target audience

Each other

I pray that this
Sends your soul
To a place
Where action
Is unavoidable

Turn away from the screens
Look up from your hands
Look into the world
Look into the heart
Look into the forests
Look into the oceans
Look into the sky
Look into the stars
Look at him
Look at her
With love
All the love you have

Or just keep staring right here
The ether will never go away
But you can

And you will


(272 words)

?Long Division?

Shut the lights, pump the tunes and shove the desks
to the edges. The elementary school
classroom almost become a discotheque.
Glenn robots, then everyone does the stroll.
Though not everyone. Two kids are fortressed

in the obscure subterranean halls
under the excused desks, with a flashlight.
Instead of dancing, they are solving all
the harder math problems. Extra credit
for the new kids. One moved from Nebraska

three years before but still shows his stunting.
The other is a transplant of divorce.
The hardest problems take many pop hits?
time to work out. They are very advanced.
One says to the other, ?Should we crawl out

and see what?s going on?? ?Wait,? he answers.
(One of them grows up to be a dancer.)

?Daniel Ari

(128 words)

you can't call it resisting if no one is really trying

i cancel all of my appointments
refuse to take any of the pills in my cupboard
i lie awake at night
tell my husband
i think they may be right

but if you have a
personality disorder
it sticks with you forever and
i haven?t killed myself yet so
maybe if i keep resisting

and as long as my
daydreams about blood
only consist of my own
and i go weeks without thinking about dying
then perhaps i?ll be okay

for a little while longer

- Faith Owen

(99 words)

Straight through my soul. Breathtaking.

(5 words)


the darkness
it is better
to lose just a hand
than to lose your self

T.S. Gray

(19 words)
Janet Rice Carnahan

So clear and so succinct . . . well done!

(10 words)


I couldn't.
No matter the blow
to either
of our hearts,
I couldn't ever say yes.

She deserves better.

(20 words)

by Mik Everett

Getting ready for brunch with my mother-in-law,
I'm a little heavy-handed with the brow liner.
"It looks a bit Kahlo-esque," I say.
Boyfriend harrumphs from another room.
I furrow my brows at my reflection and take a picture.
I don't wipe any make-up off.

After brunch I add more.
I layer brow liner with brow gel and wax
until I have wings like a bird
that could take me far away from my job
selling brow liner and brow gel and brow wax.

My eyebrows resist heat and sweat
and the facial expressions I make at my customers.
My eyebrows resist the big photos up on the wall at the store.
My manager doesn't say anything today.

(121 words)


Anything can happen.
Like one of those days
when hell freezes over or
pigs sprout pixie wings and soar off
to Neverland.

You asked me out for Sushi-
I said yes to play along,
with a smile that tempted faith
in humanity.
A debate which fortunately,
you lost.

The whole way there my thoughts
turned to grins.
He?s just a kid. Soon there will be
a camera in my face
seeking reaction to the final reveal.

Then we arrived at this place-
an intimate Cherry Blossom
with wood, red brick, and candlelight.
And I realize?
This is no kid.
Dark brown eyes bearing through me
for real, seeking all of my truths.

And I no longer know anything
real or unreal.
For the world has turned strange, colorful.
All of its rules blown away in this whirlwind
leaving me like a child

in a place full of whimsy and wonder
and absolutely no adult sense of reason
to resist.

(160 words)
Pat Walsh

by Patrick J. Walsh

the irises don't care

the rain flattens them
to the ground

but they pick themselves up
and open themselves
to the coming spring

and now the snow

arriving late and sloppy
knocks them down

but still they get up
irises are tough
and they don't care

(51 words)

Help! How can I tell if my poem has been received or not? I can't find it, despite much scrolling.

(20 words)

Gothic Romance

I smelled the velvet hiss of green poison warning,
yet I never could resist that shining moon, drawing
me to corners of the garden where the vines
snake around my waist to snare me,
hold me in place? I am trapped and bleeding,
my life inches from the plunge of darkness,
and just as I would disgrace myself with a shriek:
someone came from the shadows to rescue me ? and
I cannot resist that golden, bittered honey-kiss of
black lips that would release me into
mortal oblivion, his words soothing and mournful that
I would never be the same; I had taken in his taint and
have been forever changed ? only death would see me free
of the shackles placed in my dazed mind; but my heart
was young and foolish, and I thought myself in love
I wanted no death, but an alternative, to join him in
the pitiless ranks of the legion of the goddess of eternal
night, forever at the side of my champion who
shies away from bright lights?

On the eve of my joining I bid my life farewell,
I smelled the fresh scent of newly wept dew clinging,
and all I could imagine were those darkly handsome
wings enfolding me anew ? a poison to fight corruption,
a prick to stem the flow of an open wound;
I drank first from necessity, yet now I
am filled with the desire to keep on consuming?
my nectar, my dark savior and damnation, slid down
burning my throat with promises of ambition; then I felt
my heart clutched by the fingers of a cold grave:
and I just couldn?t help myself, I came willingly,
another one simply lost at sea and awakened in a dream?

?a part of me aches with remembrance lost since that day,
a heart in me that no longer beats has imprints of
vague memories that cut at the core of who I once was;
in this barren landscape where the romance has worn off,
I wander with an eternal unrest to find a new purpose?
my love is an empty vessel of carnal desires unhinged
filling his heart to quench the anguished emptiness that
was hidden from my lustful eyes when we first met?
all I had ever seen was the abyss of longing, tugging at
my hem and drinking me in; and I couldn?t resist,
I simply wished to be the one with answering ascent?
how decadent my designs of what I was to become?
a queen among mortals and with darkness for lover; now
I meander hallways void of expression that reaches me?
forever in the tomb of existence,
where not even a spark of me has any remaining resistance?

April 1, 2015

By: Lucy K. Melocco

(462 words)


By: Nurit Israeli

Like a skydiver
hesitant at the edge,
reluctant to leap ?
I keep a tight grip
on the rails, stalling?

Teetering on the brink
between here and who knows where,
I cling onto the open door,
peeking beyond my comfort zone,

But wait! not yet!
Not ready to free-fall.
Not rushing to find out
what happens
when I let go.

(65 words)

In Search of Creativity

They say kids these days
get fatter by the minute,
ominously ticking down.
Over-scheduled princes and princesses
glued to their devices, drink
sickly sweet coffee, take pills
to stay focused, because
there aren't enough spaces
in the colleges, and after college,
no work to be found.

Jealous, jaded,
we hope some of that lot
might be saved from Icarian demise
by our nobless oblige.

If I had a dollar
for every sympathy offered
because, yes, I teach high school,
I could buy
new books every year.

They say these kids are unprepared
for their own era,
that it's time to change standards,
revamp the tests.

But kids these days, these gamers,
tweeters, you-tubers, tumblers
are wearing perfectly ripped blue jeans,
Birkenstocks (sound familiar?),
handing over one white ear bud to a friend
during class, a soul offering much like
our mixed tapes, our sharpied CDs.

In this mass produced culture,
feed updated by the nanosecond,
carloads of teenagers pump my music into the air,
quicken the beat of my heart.
We do return to where we were.
There are pieces that endure.

If the adage is true, and I think it is,
(You can't rush creativity)
then why are we so set
on rushing our best creation?

Here, at my school, class starts at 7:45.
Every fifty-five minutes a bell rings.
By the end of each day,
I stand amazed at their aplomb,
perspicacity, imagination,
perseverance despite,
yes, it's true,
hypocrisy, greed, betrayal.

Now, we are the gray-heads
worrying our way to death,
clinging to our beloved realism.
If you didn't resist that shit
when you were fed it,
you, at least, skeptically complied.

And when your life coach says,
If you think it, you can be it.
Do what brings you joy.

Will the long-sought words surprise you?

by Liz Shine

(307 words)
Ryk Stanton

by Ryk Stanton

I don?t want to do this, but I must ?
I mean I want to, but it?s just
Such an incredible pain in the neck
That I keep thinking, why the heck
Would anyone choose to do this thing?
What praises will it bring?
What appreciation will occur
If this silly task I can endure?
And then I realize this isn?t for you
Or him or her or anyone who
Take the time to read these silly words:
It?s all for me ? how absurd
And what a sinful waste of time
To measure rhythm and practice rhyme.
I?d give it up except I promised I
Would give this silly thing a try.
So here?s my poem for April first ?
Not my best, but not my worst.

(132 words)

As I wait for a sign that isn't coming
I've become an expert in resistance
If I was better I would
If I stopped making excuses then sure
If I could hear my inner voice rather than my inner critic
Just. One. Damn.Time.
But I'm not perfect
So the words stay dormant
And I stay stuck
As I watch life
As it passes me by

(66 words)

This is what I remember.

Hushed voices swallowed up by muggy air and tongues, tangy sweet
smell of earth. Corn. Blacktop tar.
Conversations in parking lots
Soft hands fumbling with my hands pushing away, resisting, afraid but
still wanting a kiss. Sweet. Like the corn.
My truth lies somewhere in the Indiana soil.
Heavy. Like the tar.
The rain falling pat-pat-plop
against the wavy Victorian glass of my bedroom window
as I stare across the fields toward the concrete box
where you kept my heart locked away to wait for

Running angry wild out to the barn,
afraid of its vast, endless echoes and itchy air
Afraid to be alone there, but
wanting to be alone anywhere.
The sicksweet smell of ancient hay rising in swirls of rotting dust
like a memory
as I kick and stomp at it like the horses must have
a hundred years before.

Once as I was riding my bike down the narrow dirt road
between row after row of soybeans
and sweet corn
I found a cemetery. Right in the middle of the field.
The farmer from 1996 had left a perfect square barren of crops
out of respect for the farmer from 1897.
Every mottled headstone bore the name of the family
that built my house.

As I stood there straddling my ten-speed
I heard myself say,
Was that you?
Climbing the groaning stairs to my room and
slamming the barn door at night?
Is that you on the heavy landing,
pulling my chest toward the hardwood floor, always?

I wanted to run from that house the way I wished
I could escape the concrete box across the field
Cesspool of graphite and clatter, broken guitar strings and
parking lot, pitch-black
Where we leaned against your Jeep, clumsily eating the stars
and pretending we were school children when really
Only one of us was.

I wanted to leave that place.
I still do.

(321 words)


You died six days ago and the quiet
eats like moths savaging lace.

I resist. I replay your laugh as it clatters
up from your belly to a perfect G-flat.
I sleep carefully on my side of the bed.
I unplug the microwave, wrench the hands
off the clock.

At night I sit by the kitchen door,
eyes withering like windfall plums,
daring the darkness to knock.

-Tanaka Mhishi

(70 words)
Anders Bylund

Nothing Changes
I once saw a movie
based on a book
by an author long dead
in a land far away.

But every scene rang a bell,
every line sounded true,
all the scenery made sense;
the McGuffin did, too.

After all these years,
thousands of miles,
filters in layers,
you can still tell we were human all along.

(60 words)

I hold her at arm?s length,
my sister whose views live at the North
Pole while mine have gone south -
on flinging windows open
in January just another side of the coin
she spends while cooling the July air
that bursts through open car windows.
This sister who used to
dress up in my clothes,
mess with my makeup,
insists on voting for the party which
denies her health care.
Now I wouldn?t care if her radio
blasted Willie Nelson all day
if it would mean another chance
to practice resistance, the non-violent kind.

(100 words)

The Strangling of Letting Go

Woefully melancholic,
Passionately wondering,
Mournfully cantillating,
Gaunt thin love,
Wondering imparting
Ceaseless wishes,
Aspirations of optimism,
Promise expectancy,
Clasping hope as an amarantanthine vow,
Ought to let go...
But no,
Hold on.
I simply don't know.

(46 words)
Lynanne Carroll

How Odd It Is

How odd it is to crave things you don't really need-
to resist the notion of losing
something precious while knowing it's (also) treacherous
to allow it to lock you away
from all you can be
and indeed were meant to

How odd it is when accommodation morphs into blatant refusal,
pierces your heart with a gaze so inexplicably intimate,
so fierce, you cannot compel yourself to break away
from its pull

How odd it is that you begin to murmur?to your own surprise and chagrin-
rather than bellowing, ?Leave! Don't ever come back!??
knowing your whispers only grant an illusion
of brushing away the rough fingertips around your neck

How odd it is when you again reach the epiphany
you kept by your side all along:
you are being consumed by fire
and you push away,
breaking the solace and confronting pretension;
when you look over your shoulder with a bittersweet?albeit satisfied?smile
because it isn't there, following
only to turn around and find it right in front of you,
Always pleading.
Don't leave me

How odd it is that for a moment, you reconsider.

But then you remember?you are no phoenix.
You cannot rise from ashes even if they appear to be embers instead.

How odd it is that you have always known, always, that it was only a dream
yet strove anyway.

You tilt your hands and let it fall, softly?
a trickle, a stream, a rushing cascade
into Unreality

(252 words)
taylor graham


A month ago, their eyes were blind blue moons
behind tight-shut lids; by the next lunar phase,
wide awake, wild to break through our gates.

Each day their eyes grow fuller, brighter
to reflect the partial world we live in. Nights,
safe under a slatted roof that keeps out owls,

they rumple the dark with moonshine on fur;
they bay and bathe in moondust. Do puppies
know obsession? This one?s possessed,

pressing against every premise of fence, roof,
redwood-deck; jamming himself through gaps
to walk the high retaining-wall. He?ll surely fall

to the abyss, knock his brains moon-blue.
How shall I resist this lunatic Quixote?
In puppy-armor, he won?t desist until he?s

a waxing moon rising over fences,
rooftops, so far above me; gazing down
on his new world entire.

(136 words)

I have seen the way the world is weighted,
heard you murmuring the words
distress, despair, disgrace,
marked the way it seems the fates
conspire to place you
underneath the wagon?s wheel.

If I can try one phrase to bless
this wretched space in which you rest
between the gales and squalls,
let it be this:

May your soul be a sail.

Your spirit will resist the winds that drive you
into dusty earth or claw you from the cliff-face.

May you catch that wind and rise.
May you surprise yourself in flight.

(93 words)

Love it!

(2 words)

Two wolves - which do I choose to feed?

I resist the urge to punch your lights out.
Your hateful words, your physical
aggressiveness, your unwarranted
bitterness turned on me.

I resist the urge to call out the American
public for their ignorance.
Their loss of control of their own lives lived
to drink, smoke any vice that self serves.

I resist the urge to stay silent,
when all the world around me has lost
it's sense of direction.
Outwardly seeking approval from an over-burdened
community who has lost their center,
forgot how noble they were born.

I embrace the notion that we are born
to unite together in love.
Together we can share our losses and triumphs;
our joys and pains;
the fruits of our labor in service.

I embrace the natural rhythm of life;
it's ebbing and flowing.
The gentle breeze of the past surrounding
this moment
with hope of a bright future.

I embrace the light of my heart
reflecting the love of your being.
Together, alone but not lonely,
we can share goodness
of a life lived right.

~Autumn Rose Wagner
April 1, 2015

(189 words)


You said you loved me
in a way you didn't understand
but that you wanted me in your life
and I didn't know how to refuse that.
I asked myself: Should I be a human being?
Would it be detrimental to my existence
to be what I naturally was?
Skin and bones, blood and want.
Open, fragile, breakable.
When this started, I told you, I said:
If I fall in love, there will be hell to pay.
It was an empty threat.
You were a furious bull
and I was a china shop
with beautiful red curtains.
Resistance was not even on the table.
And so one by one,
there went the floral teacups,
petaled with its fragments on the floor,
in a more devastating version of
'He loves me / He loves me not'.
Then went the Jasperware vases
shattered in a marvelous periwinkle mess.
The Limoges plates, gone.
The crystal goblets, shining
in a glorious heap, much like diamonds.
It was kind of pretty, but cataclysmic
in that bourgeois sense of the word.
And I told you, didn't I tell you? I said:
If I fall in love, there will be hell to pay.
Turns out, it wasn't such an empty threat.
I mean, look at me, breaking
down at the mere anything of you.
Going through hell and back,
and back again. Still in debt,
and white knuckling a tube of glue.

(236 words)


"Men categorize women in one of four ways:
Mothers, virgins, sluts, and bitches. Of course
none of the above is suitable
for the modern business woman." ?Syrup

The first time I heard the phrase, it wasn't HOLLYWOOD.
It wasn't yet flashing strobes and Holy Wood
but it was close?

Her name was Holli, Holli Would.
She came from Cool World with white heels
and a destructive ambition.

Not because she aimed to destroy
but because anything a woman does destroys;
Anything she achieves undoes the world
that previously existed.

All women
are spiked
with revolution.

In the strip club we call our House,
our whiskey is spiked with resistance,
our vodka is spiked with subversion,
and your 80th shot of Patrn
is shot over our shoulders

In the States, sex and death are taboo:
the only things to make and unmake you.

We fighters crawl out on our knees
from beneath this silence surrounding
our sexuality, we recover
that power and dance brave.

We dancers crawl out on our knees
onto the stage watching surrounding
eyes and notice or ignore
the command we have of that gaze.

Your beats backbone a war drum.
As always, we take what you give us
and make new life.

We are our own revolution.
We will not be denied.

We dance to take back what was stolen.
Dance to feel rooted in our own bodies.
Dance to bruise better than a bar fight,
to heal better than bottoms of bottles.

To control what others seek
to control for us.

My aerial inversion is a warning:
I am stronger than I look,
I can lift my body weight over my head
and still wink at you.

You think I can't fly?
From up here your words
are as small as your minds.

Jack Deebs loved an imaginary Holli
and all that she would do
for him?she always
in relation to him.

His own facsimile fed him fenced futures
not caring to notice she could never love him
like she loved her freedom.

Not every story is a romance.

We are not distressed
and if we are, you aren't the hero
we need nor the one we deserve.

We are revolution.

(368 words)

Oblivion resisted

I?ve been cored like an apple and
set to dry in the sun from which I hid:
secrets cramped into the vice of duties,
desires quashed to make room for voices of
reason, sense and health; reigns taken away
in disgusted tones of derision, for what I
know is no longer valid; my eyes serve to
repeat the lessons spelled, my fingers are
enslaved to do only the bidding of the hour,
and inside my chest beats
a heart drowned out by others? hearts?
I?m burning in the sensations of death,
trembling in the roiling madness of
inexplicably feeling violated,
heart metaphysically bleeding dry?
so much has pushed against my pitted walls
that my resistance is automatic;
sometimes I feel that I can?t accept anything
unless it?s as static as my sanctuary?s become?
but wherever my path has taken me dancing,
there is nothing like what was to keep me happy?
I prayed once, and I sought wisdom?
now I only seek the comfort of being allowed to
do as I secretly wish; when desires are whittled
to a bare few requirements of happiness,
everything becomes an assault on my sovereignty
everyone is bent on reshaping me to their designs;
my resistance is automatic, but silent
in this cage where I am a passenger in my own life
where only I may see the tendrils of sorrow slowly
suffocating, or hear the soundless screams that
keep echoing in the back of my mind; that place
is riddled with dry stains climbing and cracking:
testament to a heart turned a sooty black of damp
frustrations layering until there is nothing to see
but flitting memories of innocent cleanliness; my
lines of regret were once clear and defined ? now
it?s a scrambled collection of blurred lines, a thicket
through which I try to claw my way back to that
place that I?ve left: where what I planned for is
all that mattered? that pace-by-pace space where
what I do needs no resistance ? where there is
no friction, only the comforting arms of

April 1, 2015

By: Lucy K. Melocco

(352 words)
Bartholomew Barker

Resistance to Gray

It all started in the temples,
the grays began there.
At first, I wasn't worried,
they were minor malcontents
and barely a bother.

But over the years
the grays have grown.
We've lost the side burns
and most of the cheek.
The mustache is still brown
but I fear for the chin.

Once the beard is gone,
under sway of the gray,
the scalp will surely fall
and then I might as well
just nuke the whole face.

(81 words)


I am always alone now like
today, on the boulevard named for
our assassinated president

I cracked the window for
a pale cold spring
and heard Sting
sing ?I can?t stand losing you.?

Over and over again
he said it like a declaration
and that was how I felt
for all those months:

How could you walk away?
But now, I pause at the red light ? resistance
Then go green, then red, and finally green.

I feel my foot on the gas
and I feel different.
I can see it:
Someday it will be you
realizing you let me go.

You?ll be singing a
different tune then.

(109 words)


The first punch.
When your mother sent you to school
With a black-eye and a story. Later
When she asked what you told them
?I fell down the stairs.? (as coached)
Why did you lie? She screamed rising
Up from her chair. That was the true blow.

Earlier, to your father
Look what I did to her this time.
She hid you in a room.
An Eskimo pie for dessert, dinner served on a tray.
The taste of ice cream and chocolate mixed in with tears,
The tender flesh that swelled around your eye.
Your father walking away.

The last punch.
Many years after the last bruise has faded.
After the batterer, the stalker, the sadist
A woman sits down at the table
That did not set a place for her.
She picks up a knife, a fork,
Says pass me the peas motherfuckers.

~Kelly Thompson

(147 words)

Resistance ? by ?The Cat?

I heard the word ?pedicure.?
Uh, oh!
I know what that means.

Prepare for battle.

Here she comes.
Can?t find me.
Can?t find me.

Claws come out.
Hold tight to carpet!

Straighten legs!
Body rigid!!

I know.
I?ll go limp.

Let go of my scruff!
Stop fondling my toes!
How humiliating!

Passive resistance tactics.

But revenge will be sweet.

(77 words)

Litsa Cheimariou

As skin
I lie on the couch
Did you think of me as you?
you knew?
that I would
Wait! you didn?t say
we. it is
like storm electric sewer
draining to the stream
start! to cover with
your flesh the whirlpool
The impedance will get
lower in a hundred years.
or us to change our skins.

(60 words)

I like how pastel light licks the sky
Enticing you to forget the darkness ahead
It's cooing "Hey, let me blind you with colours,
you don't have to face the night alone"
But I look the other way
Because I like the fist of the night to my face
And the breeze eating away at my flesh,
I'm raw and alive and I won't be watered down by soft light

(70 words)


Everything I take I throw it at the wall,
The press of the body against the door,
Blind flight into your crumbling form,
I am the will into your wantonness,
The smell of the office as it piss blossoms,
And I stand with hands palm side up.

I am breaking up the floor, pulling,
Pushing on the stone, molding the floor boards
Into weapons and chalices,
I am breathing hard in night sheets,
My constant breath a string on my finger,
A finger in the eye of everything you are.

You are wrapping yourself in those tea bags,
In the black pencils, the perfect erasers
That do nothing but sit on the floor,
Sit and think how I watch myself dry,
Man gone jerky from the drying you create,
The drying you breathe and call art.

The edge of the me, the part that crawls
Home in the car, crawls into the empty bed,
The kids boiling crayons for dinner,
Picking at the cat?s scraps for lunch,
That part is screaming for mercy me,
Screaming to launch into the sky, collapse.

(182 words)

Resistance to Poeming
Carolyn Lilly

I used to think
I could write a poem
about any subject, any prompt,
the Lord knows, I?ve done it enough.
My words have graced many a page,
but I feel resistance to doing this.
Am I too tired for this challenge
or running like a scared jack rabbit
with a hunter hot on its heels?
Put a pen in my hand,
and out pours much,
secrets flow in presentable words.
You will know me when I am done,
and that scares me.

(89 words)

PAD April 1, 2015

These unremarkable days and nights
metamorphose the awareness I inhabit,
in spite of my unchanging ways.
One day ends unlike any other, though routine
rules this day, like the last, and those before.
Like the monarch, waking, eating, moving about,
one place of repose is not far from the last.
Yet, I advance, as if a breeze at my back
is a gentle hand urging me onward.
I learn. I grow. I am new each day,
in spite of staying the same path.

By Cynthia Page

(92 words)
Tom Hayes

First time entry...Here goes!

Impenetrable stillness surrounds your being,
Yet my mind hears your laughter.
I can not accept this permanence.
Yet my protests can not reverse it.
This mortal race does run its course.

Impossible that we will not walk together
Nor share a meal by firelight's glow.
Nothing can reignite the dampened embers
Except the spark of my memories
Where we shall linger side-by-side.

Your lethal slumber can not claim your entirety.
I feel your energy as birds take flight.
Your breath flows on the wind through distant trees.
You survive in my dreams of crimson sunsets.
My acceptance will wait until I join you on that far shore.

-by Tom Hayes

(116 words)
Daniel Paicopulos

Spoken with the sincere depth of an Elizabethan. Wow.

(9 words)
Brendan X

No! I will not write
a resistance poem
you can not make me!
I will never write
a resistance poem!

Brendan McBreen

(22 words)

yes! I thought the same thing. Then I wrote one and it disappeared.

(13 words)

Shambleman Stands His Ground

He watches them through intense eyes,
Hearing their curses and retreating threats,
He?s heard it before.
He stands like a wild-haired pugilist,
Breathing hard and body taunt.
In his right fist,
Broken strands of silver chain
Dangle like sparkling spaghetti.

After long watchfulness
He opens his dirty fist,
Pries open the book-shaped locket,
And looks with awe-ful eyes
At his faded picture of her.

(68 words)

And I still think of love
I still think of distance

When I beg you to listen
The answer is given
- Your eyes never glisten.
But it's no supposition
That you like the addition
That I bring to your life
When I say that you're mine
And our names intertwine..
- There is no time for friction
I still have the ambition
To call this traditional
Love, from the war zone.
We are voltage and current
And this is our element
Resistance an estimate
Of time that will tell us
How much we can swallow
Who'll come to the rescue
Who will finally come through
Who will say 'Oh, I knew'.

(113 words)
jason c.segarra

"untitled I"
by: jason c segarra
2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 1

of the very whole,
there is a pressing in,
mass upon mass,
leaving no room
in the mechanism.

the mechanism
is deep ended.
the teeth in the gears catch.
they've been doing so to
our flesh for so long.
they are of an excited cacophony.

hands glide across where
where the reflection of
that sound comes from.

it feels of stone.
stone holds memories.
as stone goes, faces
have a tale.

do not look away
from that face. it will
tell you everything.

(95 words)

?The Line?

Flowing freely, the watercolor suddenly stops,
meeting that waxy line
-the line of resistance.

Standing firm in our convictions
we challenge barriers, pushing against
-the line of resistance.

Searching for guidance, we seek a curbed path,
focusing our direction along
-the line of resistance.

Weary and depressed, ignoring sound reason,
we sometimes take
-the line of least resistance.

(60 words)


No matter what
that prompt says,
I don?t want to write
about resistance.

Doesn?t life have
enough resistance?

Skaters harshly iced
by friction?s slick traps.

Steam engines railing
about acoustic brakes.

Birds forcing their wings
against gravity?s yank.

(What temptations
did Newton spurn?)

Two lovers discuss
how best to counter
those who don?t understand
their feelings for each other.
Why resist? They kissed.

Christopher Stolle ? April 1, 2015 ? Richmond, Indiana

(74 words)
Hanna D.

"Resistance Against Un-Form"
by Hanna Denton

When Thomas ruled and Dylan wrote and Allen was a saint,
When poetry herself was spotted o'er with blackest taint,
When meanings now were moldable and form was for the birds,
Then, surely then, we lost the sacred fire of our words.

(48 words)
Christopher Staskel

Step One

I brood on the toilet,
my feet propped up on
a wicker wastebasket
because the human body
evolved to squat in the woods,
not perch on a porcelain throne,
And I notice my face wash says Step One,
its cruel intimation being
I must buy Steps Two and Three
in order to be fully happy.

You want me to communicate better,
but maybe it?s not entirely my fault.
Maybe I?ve just outstripped my evolution,
a vulnerable king
in desperate need
of going back to basics.

(87 words)

Red flag White Flag

In unfettered hopes and true rebellions
religions born, nations created-
Flags would flutter in elegance in the wind.
Gunshots to celebrate the million martyrs
in the play of kings and minions.
The blasphemy of truth would flutter in silence-
A poet?s diary and his pen.

(49 words)

It was so Quiet by Alana Lawson

It was so quiet
after the big 'No'
I had expected brass-band-loud
I had expected a megaphone in the face.
I had expected to bleed.
I was surprised by the calm, the quiet, the breeze
so gentle it couldn't even shake a leaf
And I smiled to myself as I realised:
This was the peace of resistance.

(64 words)
Susan B

she seduces me
with my favorite dinners
and make-up kisses -
but I won't forgive her
sober or not
she let him rape me

(24 words)
Linda Hatton

Revolt of the Spawning Adult

Like a salmon swimming upstream,
against the current in frigid,
familiar waters, she fights, kills time,
swishes away her reflection,
the past.
She resists her nature?rocky
rapids, hardy falls, sinister
nets and hooks, hungry bears?
threatening and tearing apart
hazardous saltwater memories
living inside her mind.

I am so happy to be here again! Thank you, Robert!! I don't know if my spacing will show up right here, so I'm also posting a link to the poem on my blog, the whatnot shop (aka Linda G Hatton).
Thanks again!
Linda G Hatton

(98 words)
Linda Hatton

Thank you so much, Nurit! xo

(6 words)


She pulls her chair in to the table of resistance,
a proposed feast of conditions
?not one of which includes the squirm of sitting
or the humming at the back of her complacent knees
out of tune with a place setting for one.

Charise Hoge

(46 words)

All I Know by C. Lynn Shaffer

The bomb, the gun,
do as they are told.
The flesh cannot resist.
When a hole is made
blood runs out,
the things we know
now weapons held deep:
concrete and wood,
metal from pots that once
chirped from stovetops
while women stirred,
prepared to set the table,
one plate for each head.
Of course I want to wind
back around the spool
the bloody thread of history,
close holes, turn to blankets
the clothes of loved ones only after
they?ve worn them out.
This poem is not a tourniquet.
Though it should not
the skull can be made to open,
a fallen egg revealing its chick.
The child is not playing hopscotch
but holding up what?s left of his leg.
Sunlight hits bone.
All I know is the snap of beans broken over a bowl.
The screaming kettle unsettles the house.

(150 words)

As Observed

If you see her in the hollow melon
that is her car, wind between her fingers
like a cigarette; or on a bent green
bench in the park; or cooling her passion
tea with long spoons of crushed ice-don't observe
her strictly. She's no obligation. Not
a funeral, Easter, one box of Thin
Mints. Resist the compulsion to garland
her feet: observe her as an April fool.

(69 words)


pruning the hawthorn
I keep finding new buds
and wayward branches
resistance is futile
against my stubbornness

I write as a way to honor God, relieve stress, and to process what goes on in the world.

(37 words)

Yes! spare and lovely.

(4 words)

tell me, snow white,
what told you it was
not wise to bite the poisoned apple
although it looked
temptingly sweet in your hand.

show me, snow white,
how you mirrored eve
standing bare in the garden of paradise,
but didn't let the stepmother-snake corrupt you.

tell me, snow white,
which fruits i should avoid
as not to end up lifeless in a glass coffin,
with an apple core
lodged in my throat.

(73 words)

resistance creates art

a star traces a satin stain
rains caress sea crests
a tree restrains stares at sister trees
a rat entrances a cat at rest
ants race near a cane?s center
an ass canters in a trance
ears strain at a rare train
art incites resistance rants

Holly York

(51 words)
Lori D. Laird

PAD #1: For today?s prompt, write a resistance poem.

Hope Lies In Grace

Dig my heels in.
Give into temptation.
Revile the sin.
Sink into depression.
Forget everything else.
Even how to breathe.
Whipped by invisible belts.
This world, I want to leave.

But I can't do any of that.
For there's a little girl.
A beautiful blue-eyed hellcat.
The center of my bruised world.
Though she is gone,
I feel her amazing presence.
I'm never alone.
Her smile is in the moon's crescent.

A year has gone by,
since I've seen her sweet face.
No matter how hard I try,
there's no filler for her space.
So go on I will.
Because I know one day,
with faith that won't be still,
I continue to kneel and pray.

To be reunited with her.
Never let her go.
So, let the time blur.
A gentle breeze is gonna blow.
One in which dreams come true.
Depression fades away.
There's just me and you.
That's my perfect day.

April 1, 2015 by LDL

(173 words)
Madeleine Begun Kane

Republican pols
resist scientific facts-
doubt their gravity.

(8 words)
Andrea Z

To Move... or Not Move...
By Andrea Zaccaria

Sadness is the tone of the house;
the rooms are reduced to nothing
but an echo -
boxes sit in each room, and form a maze
in the garage -
and here we sit,
living on peanut butter sandwiches
and fast food dinners,
waiting on the news
that we are finally clear
to start living again -
all our questions are met with
is dead silence.
It is almost as if some unseen force
is pushing us back
from moving forward.

(89 words)
Amy Schrader

In This Version

two women braid each other?s hair
in the French manner yet we?re unsure

if that?s right only one knows anything
about the French style: scarves or kissing

the other pretends to know pretends not
to know years later pretends she forgot

how to a complex interaction: three
separate strands becoming one the key

to strength is in the twist if we remove
a single strand unlink the other two

impossible to learn all feminine
ways & wiles: assembly destruction

a woman, shorn or with hair so long
the lock wraps all the way around her neck

(99 words)

I stop to rest against a wall
and I swear?it flinches.
It recoils away, and away.

I gingerly press my palm
against a brick, watching as
it blackens.

I walk away? earth splinters
beneath my feet. Gleefully,
ruin trails behind.

I search for salvation, blind
to truth: my cracked palms
are the contagion.

Rose colored glasses suit me.
I seek paradise, but carry through
its gates a plague.

(68 words)

The first line is perfection - draws the reader instantly in and each stanza creates such wonderful imagery; but as you know, the last one is my favourite - paralleling paradise & plague together at the end ties the whole piece together. Wonderful! :)

(43 words)

"Decay of Marrow"
by: Janelle (Elle) Segarra
Day1 of April 2015 PAD Challenge
Prompt: Resistance

how do we
though, not resigned
to decay of marrow
continue to usher blood
that refuses veins?

(32 words)

When we were young it was fate,
that red thread we?d been promised,
our desire a sign from the universe
that we had found
maybe the one,
or maybe a one,
who would be there when
being there was all we required.

But that night it made itself rough ,
a rope thick with kinship
that stretched across thirteen years
and the several inches of bed
between the flat of your hesitant palm
and the shaking curve of my back.

We both pulled with everything we had,
trying to define the loneliness
in a way that would make
the other understand
why just being there wasn?t sufficient,
that now we needed more.

And as we leaned apart,
laying our weight into it,
we discovered that it was
only ever a thread after all,
and thread snaps.

(137 words)

Two categories;
For such a disorganized society,
We sure like to order!

Two categories,
create a binary
and a tightrope
for the uncategorized,
for the others
that don't fit
in any of the two boxes,
no matter how big the boxes are.
Diverse masculinities and femininities,
are still only two.

A no to gender binary,
is a yes to gender variations
is a yes to gender liberation.
It's a yes to a diversity of colours,
to a rainbow,
to a spectrum.

(82 words)

by John Yeo

He gritted his teeth
Clutched his hands
Until the pain subsided.
Resisting the urge to scream
Anything to find some relief.
The spasms continued unabated.

Waves of nausea overcame
The penetrating painful forces
He knew his resistance was low,
He prayed to God for the pain to ease,
For the sweet relief of morphia
Then he held his breath and waited.

Copyright Written by John Yeo.
All rights reserved.

(74 words)

I Am Your Birthday Cake

I am your birthday cake
words like sweet and love
roll off your tongue
although you know little about me
those words are chocolate sauce
poured over me
you?ve already lit the candles,
can we fall head first into this cake,
is it time?
No, not yet, someone announces
with wine-stained lips
and stars in their eyes, maybe me.
My hands know nothing
but how to hold yours,
seems I?ve always known you;
my clothes are around my feet
and I can?t take my eyes off you,
even when you?re miles away.

I?m drenched in sweat
as if hit from heat
off hot rocks in this lodge,
now steam rises and I lay low to breathe
because you?ve followed
another guest out the door
a breeze blows out the candles,
all but this one to light a new fire.

(145 words)

You bathe me in
subtle comforts to persuade me -
wine-stained kisses,
gentle caresses amongst
a sweeping bed
of soft, golden wheat.
I will not be cajoled
from my tears, my fears.

(35 words)

Resistance by Urszula Humienik

Mind goes blank
No words emerge
Thoughts seem empty
Their meaning lost
In materialization
Air void of scent
Or texture
Sunshine lacking color
And heat
A void of nothingness
Swallowing all
Allowing for
To surface

(40 words)
Valeria Ursula Breske


We had thought we could have untrained
Ourselves to go backwards, since reverse
Hadn?t ever been the problem, nor did
We think we could stay all day standing in
Line, the last bottle we remember shot on
The fence by someone carrying something
Loaded, but it was us, only several molecules
Of difference between us, and it was the distance
We couldn?t resist, all the weights we lifted
At the gymnasium ad nauseam, hoping that
You and hoping that I would be the last corpse,
The transition between that life and this, and
To those of us who haven?t given up, whether
We are dragged through fields of sand, or
Whether we can dive into water, not
Knowing how deep we will feel we can go.

(127 words)

Not comforted, I?m primed!
set free into opening, opening,
but this brush stroke could start a fire!

(18 words)

Emily Lasinsky 4/1/15
Too dark to be light,
Too light to be dark,
Don?t want to be either or.

I?m a blend, an integration of parts.
Some days the shadows mute the angels,
and other days my light blinds the bats.
But I get along with the angels,
I get along with the bats,
We all talk about our need to take flight.
This is only a brief conversation.
After five minutes, the bats start to wither and
the angels start to remember being human.

Despite their strong persistence,
I resist the temptations the bats offer me,
especially in the form of hospitality,
the way they make me feel like family.
I know their intentions,
this sense of knowing is my angelic gift.
I curse the bats
in the dark
when they get jealous of my light.
They gather around me, feed my dark,
and I?m left in constant rumination,
questioning my existence.
Just then, Michael charges in with sword in hand and the bats know their place.
No deal made, but an understanding.

I?m not going to avoid the dark,
but I want more Light to consume me.
Because I am light, I can hang with the bats.
The angels call me to a higher standard,
but my white is ten shades off.
I?m not sure if I want to be brighter,
get rid of stains of experience.

Help me to not resist Your Love,
Help me to persist in believing that the Light overpowers
the endless power outage that is the dark.
Help me to believe that this dark angel will be welcome
and not merely exist in space
when she comes home.

(276 words)

Earth and ash on my shoes, and when I walk

I write my body into the jetstream
That tight fisted howler with bells ringing from her feet as she runs
Pausing only to let her friend vomit behind a bush next to the old brick hall
(Named, for reasons unclear to our century?s sensibilities, after
A terrible human being whose only accomplishment seems to have been mere presence
At the original digging of the well) / Before continuing past the squinting onlookers
Slowing their walks but still talking into their phones about the recent tournament
Or the weather, which is waiting now for further instructions, dependent as she is on data
From other sources:

The balding man with courteous gestures and a habit of repeating the phrase,
?The better part of valor;? / The more muscular voices antennae-thrown skyward
Without any regard for plant life and their evaporating protest song; laughter
Or a region?s lack thereof; smoke from large flames engulfing a modern log cabin home;
The force of her foot on the earth, and the strength of its resistance. While she waits
She critiques friction as a metaphysic, and the sun warms the back of her neck.

by Chad Jones

(201 words)

A Partial Victory

A grande ice coffee
no sweetener, but
I really crave a latte
with foam spilling
over the rim.
Just this once
add that chocolate
delicacy. I'm nostalgic,
and it reminds me
of a coffee and croissant
at a small table in the Village
where we talked until
they closed and then argued
the merits of existentialism
on the D train to the Bronx

A grande ice coffee please,
and that chocolate croissant.
just this once. I'll hold off
on the latte until
some other time.

(88 words)

look both ways before crossing
say grace before eating
floss before sleeping

after dying no one can say

(18 words)

The electrical resistance of an electrical conductor
is the opposition to the passage of
may refer to: Contents. [hide].
1 Physics; 2 Medicine; 3 Politics and military;
Electricity. Also called ohmic resistance. a property of a conductor by virtue of which the
noun resistance \ri-?zis-t?n(t)s\.
refusal to accept something new or different.
of antibiotic
resistance in the insights
RESISTANCE clarifies the problem of antibiotic resistance, how
The electrical resistance of a circuit component or device is defined as the ratio of the
RESISTANCE (BE). 2897 likes 76 talking about this. OFFICIAL page for Belgian Death
Resistance -- Set during WWII, a group of women in an isolated Welsh village. Photos.

The Resistance is a party game of social deduction. It is designed for five to ten players,
the Resistance, Hell-Ville. 14236 likes 122 talking about this. STHLM/GBG - METAL.

Antibiotics have been falling to resistance for almost as long as people
Antibiotic resistance has now become a costly and dangerous problem.

resistance (countable and uncountable, plural resistances) ... widespread resistance to
resistance. Resistance is the hindrance to the flow of charge. For an electron
An area of resistance
or resistance level
indicates that the stock or
is finding it
Amazon.com: Resistance (9781781162491): Samit Basu: Books.

(Found / formatted by Victoria Anne Reis; powered strongly by Google)

(223 words)

The Spell

One thing about being swans:
We?re organized
We get from A to B
Without a row
A blur of precision,
Beautifully efficient
Peripheral creatures
All mindfulness
All now

The miles unspool
Without a word
(?Fly off as voiceless birds!?)
I swear our sister dies
With wonder every time
We startle from the sky
Descending with a whoosh
(Albeit raucously)
As hope and setting suns
Rise in her eyes

How long
Have I dismayed
At the transitioning
We daily undergo
Have fought to shrug it off
Resist the pull of shoulders
Push of feet to ground
The star becoming heart
And head, the golden crown
That marks us princes, brothers

I?ve taken to howling
When it?s done; I might be going mad
She tells us of a sorcerer
She?s heard reverses spells
(Then again, we might turn into wolves)
Who cares?
It always ends in flight
We drink and swear away the night

And then, Godspeed
First light
She blows a desperate kiss
The world resolves to blue
Close-hauled against the wind
Our best selves pull away
As if the spell lay not in wren
But squabbling into men again

(191 words)
M.H. Freeman

To Give Chase

There will be nights when dreams refuse.
A soft, flickering light, you will fight and fail.

by Matthew H. Freeman

(23 words)
Olivia Tefft

I hold this story in my mouth,
asking why don?t you
write about her?
no no,
not the straight girl
that accidentally loved you,
we?ve heard enough about
from you

why don?t you write about family?
you?re always going on
about her anyways,
you know,
the one who never gave you
love, or
did you forget
the words choking your chest?

I can?t, not yet
I can?t write this story,
it?s buried in my teeth
like a cavity, it?s in my lungs like?
why can?t I just write
another silly poem about

(94 words)

Can I resist waiting?
Resist waiting for the call from the VA about my Dad?s benefits?
Resist waiting for my son to tell me he wants to start back to school?
Resist waiting for daughter to get her own car insurance?
Think how much more time
there will be in the day
without all that waiting.
Not to mention the doors to surprise, elation and joy
that could open when benefits, school, and insurance jump into my life
without waiting. As if carried by a grasshopper,
jumping unexpectedly into the sunshine on the worn wood floor.


(97 words)


I will be wax
To your pigment
Not allowing
You to stick

(13 words)
Raina Masters

A how-to guide for affairs

Do not make eye contact.
If you do, resist the urge to count
the number of dark hairs in his perfectly
groomed beard. Do not sit and write the perfect scene in your head, where he offers
his shoulder as solace while you cry about
not having been touched in months. If you do,
the opposite will happen and your panties
will end up in his sock drawer while you are
left with quivering legs and nauseated remorse.
Do not keep his number in your cellphone.
If you do, list him as Katie or Melissa.
Do not second guess the decision after
it's done. Do not return to the cold sheets
in the stale aired basement.

(121 words)

Another poem that has a realness to it that caught me by surprise.

(13 words)

Savage Disobedience

I am long rooted in this soil
from which I have grown beautiful and strong
The blazing heat of the sun has not withered me
Nor has the thrashing of the rain swept me away
I have learned the song of the wind
And my supple body bends with the storm
May the seasons be harsh,
My bright face reflects but happiness.

I am mother and father to generations
Each seed as pertinacious
My race blooms and even flourishes
Your violence does not deter us
Your poison does not kill us
And if you displace us, remember this:
that a part of us always remains.

For we are beautiful and strong
And long rooted in this soil.

Dan D. Lyons)

(123 words)


The uphill struggle of living,
makes for a beautiful view.
My step falters and I pause to catch my breath as new rocky edges appear on the horizon;
I never chose the path of least resistance, but the entire idea of having a choice might be faulty.
Maybe there is no such thing as an easy way up, I've sure as hell never seen it.
And when I do long for it, after endless miles of rocky ground;
With bloody knees and aching back,
I am reminded of the simple truth: Nothing weakens the human body as a lack of gravity does.
So how would the spirit grow stronger without equal resistance?

(113 words)
Patricia A. Hawkenson

Day 1 Resistance Poem
By Patricia A. Hawkenson


That neurotic
chatters another
and whether it tastes
like chicken,
or not,
the bird house
will be chewed.

The opening
will be jagged,
a splintered hazard
for any bird momma
who dare nest
her babies there.

It?s clear.

The window
is the only thing
between us.

(57 words)
Michelle Murrish

As the moon moves the sea
Destined never to touch
Yet always reaching
So is my love for you

- Michelle Murrish

(22 words)

Woah. Love, love, love it!

(5 words)
Lynanne Carroll

I love the fact that it reaches deeply, yet is only 4 lines. "So is my love for you". Beautiful

(21 words)


She said no.
He kept pressing her.
His smell drew her in.
Made her want him.
She tried hard to resist,
but in the end
the chocolate cake
seduced her.

(33 words)

I love this! :D Wonderful and fun!

(6 words)

Ha, thanks Catprincess, I'm right there with you at the moment! Love it!

(13 words)

Ah what a wonderful read to end the day - I'm craving chocolate cake though!

(15 words)

'Resistance in Renaissance'

An 'Ohm' will chant its power
Pushing through...
Through paths of least resistance.
Shortened Circuits 'round a battery of tests.
Circumnavigates 'round poles of Plus (us) & Minus (us).
What shines, what illuminates the letters,
What brightens these pages
Charges us to make these strikes of lightning
of worth.

Resistance is far from futile.
Resistance is what saves us.
GregRobin Smith (2) 2015
-30-+ ###

(69 words)

(And greater wars have been fought &
bloodier battles carved)

This decision feels as if razorblades
were taken to my throat ?
such is the depth of this wound;
such is the magnitude of losing you.

Words ?
have the power to build;
have the power to destruct.

(48 words)

wow .. :)

(2 words)

Lovely. The blade of resistance. How it hurts.

(8 words)
Michelle Murrish

" as if razorblades
were taken to my throat ?"
that is such a great way to describe that pain

(20 words)

Weather the Storm

Neither rain, nor hail
Nor sleet, nor snow
Will stop the postal carrier.
That makes them weather-resistant.

Email, however, is weatherproof.

(24 words)


(1 words)

Atelopus Varius

Aposematic skin of black and orchid-
a splendid marbled shell of neurotoxin

Once lived abundant in Panamanian splendor
to Costa Rican lowlands, traveling slow

Eating arthropods, avoiding crabs, and
laying on stream side rocks

The Harlequin toad,
a petite and gorgeous danger

Due to climate change,
they disappear swift

Yet stay resilient-rare

-Shauna Osborn 4/1/15

(57 words)

When the Answers Come

When the answers come
they are greeted cordially at the door.
?I?m glad you could make it,? I say,
showing them to the sitting room
and making them feel at home.
Armor clanking, visors up, they perch on my settee.
?A drink while you are waiting? A nibble or two??
(Sometimes they need to stick around a bit while I work things out.)
They are the best of guests,
pretending not to notice the wallpaper scarred with panic,
and they show great patience
as ideas they already know are bad
but are too polite to say so)
soar up, excitedly, and are pierced to the ground
? but only after I have armed myself with thought.
Logistics. Tactical patterns. It?s working.
After a time, I have forgotten even their presence.
?Are you yet done?? they ask, brushing crumbs from their laps. ?Because we are.?
I sprawl, battle-tired, worn.
?You win,? I say. ?Thank you.?

(158 words)

Capital Sin

How do you know when to fight,
or to run?
Time to push against,
or is it pull back?
We all want to live lives live with excitement
ones that beam brightly as we climb.
Sometimes, though, it's with ourselves
we fight.
Wrestling who we are with who we're meant to be
or full-sprint-running from what the mirror's see.
Answers worth having aren't easily won.
So we stop. Take notice. Step back.
And seek a higher perch to discover -
When it's with the world you fight,
at least there's a chance you win.
However resisting the soul,
that's a capital Sin.

(104 words)

these tired sores of words
weeping within
the clustered throat

I watch them
gathering a flood

how long
until the dam

(23 words)

Resistance to Bakery Temptations

The body wants what it wants,
night taunts her with mouth-watering scenes?
dreams swooning in French macaroons,
chocolate decadence, lemon meringue,
delectable cannolis, chocolate eclairs, napoleons.

She recalls Uncle Lutz, the baker, and his weekly
offerings, that pink-stringed, white box cradled
in his hands. Back then she was scrawny,
lean-legged and long-limbed, able to devour
five glazed donuts in one sitting.

Now at fifty, her body resembles a giant cream puff
with her rounded hips and protruding jelly belly.
Still, she wants what she wants even though
her scale haunts her daily, instills fear with that
long string of kin?sick family genetics of heart
disease and swollen limbs, diabetes.

Now she only visits the bakery case to stare, to long
while she paces back and forth, taking in frosted
confections and fondant-coated glistening cakes,
her lips watering??the curse of sweet gluttony and desire.

Then she feels the pinch of her waist band pulling
tight, nagging sensation against her blubbery waist,
so she steps back, resists the call
of those sugary, bakery temptations.

-- Maureenpolo

(178 words)

A Giggle Suppressed

It?s your Great Aunt?s funeral
and your cousin, sitting two spaces over
farts - tries to cover it with a cough.
Your eyes met his,
and you cannot laugh.

You must not laugh.

Stop the giggle from springing forth.
Someone gives you a look.

You resist the giggle.
You?re turning purple, can?t breathe.
Now you?re making strange noises.
People are turning to look.

Your cousin who farted looks like a saintly pillar
of composure - hysterical.
Your sister didn?t hear the fart and is elbowing you
to straighten up.

You focus on your beloved Aunt?s life.
You remember (oh no!) her baked pork and beans.

?Beans, beans, good for your heart;
the more you eat, the more you fart,?
the ?musical fruit,? your uncle called it.

You Aunt wouldn?t say fart,
she said ?fluffed.?
Fart idioms fire in rapid succession:
passed gas,
silent and violent,
loud and proud,
somebody stepped on a duck.
the one who smelt it dealt it;
the guilty dog barks first.
More room out than in.

Tears, snot, shoulders shaking.

Suddenly, ?bwahaha? echoes in the church.
You try to disguise it as a sob.
Thankfully, someone hands you a tissue,
finally, free of the giggle, you can mourn,
but now the rest of the pew has caught it.

(218 words)

Can I edit? Met should be meet in the fourth line.

(11 words)

She wakes up every morning defeated
adorns her weight in make up
squeezes into tightly fitted clothing
hoping her battle with time was one not lost
she cherishes the days where they mistake her daughter for a sister
days when men half her age tells her she?s beautiful
days where time seemed to just stop

Her daughter wakes up every morning defeated
wondering why mommy can?t see she?s beautiful
she looks in the mirror and wonder if she is beautiful
she cherishes the days where mommy forgets to look in the mirror
day where mommy feels too lazy to put on make up
days where mommy tells her shes the most beautiful girl in the world
days where time seemed to just stop

(123 words)

The Tough Thing about Exercise is Starting

I say to myself
this is the first day
and then don?t do it
so it?s not the first day.
This goes on for a while.

One day I do a small thing
put on some music
something my body can?t resist
find myself moving a little
grape vine stepping on the rug.

I shake my hips in slow motion
not enough to disturb my comfort
or sense of inertia, not yet,
but enough to be able to say
I started.

Lori Desrosiers 4/1/15

(91 words)

A guarded part

There is always a part, just
To the left, above the ventricle
That leads to the heart,
Where inspirations flows, dreams
Take form, where memories dance
And longing grows;
Where darkness tempts to dwell,
Come to drink, my love, here,
Here is my wishing well.
Yes, there is that part, just
To the left, above the ventricle
That leads to the heart,
And I guard it, it will not be revealed,
A consequence of you:
The door is dead bolt sealed.

(84 words)

Excellent poem!

(2 words)

I tell you you?re brilliant
I tell you you?re beautiful, hilarious, irreplaceable
And you disagree
You believe everything bad but not the truth
Darling when have I ever lied to you?
I tell you that you make everything make sense
That this generation will be different because of you
You blush and look away
You resist believing because you?re afraid
That one day I?ll see you like you do
But it?s not that I don?t see your imperfections
I do
And I love you anyway
I don?t want someone perfect
I just want you


(95 words)


Follow stones bulging through thin soil
until you sidestep the hollow and bend
to scoop winter leaves from limestone
fissure and let drops trickle to kiss
your finger. Here the spring begins.
Never mind the frost still nestled
on the cedar?s tips, or the skim ice
halfway across the slough ditch.
Here is all the proof you need.
Taste it and be sure.

(64 words)
Michelle Murrish

i really enjoyed this

(4 words)
Alfred Booth

Simple, well thought out and elegant. Great writing.

(8 words)


To Exist
to resist
the changes
that time
foists upon us.

(13 words)
Jane Shlensky


A lone feeler-howl shivers in the night,
a tendril like a question mark
reaching up, tapping down
seeking home soil.

A hollow voice keens after another
of its kind to share
the burden of being,
to chase the rabbit
in the moon.

Longing for meaning pulses
like the stars' clustered light
years apart. Echoes
befriend the solitary
self in love
with the idea
of surrender.

(66 words)

"burden of being", nice

(4 words)
Jane Shlensky

Conundrums from Sensei

your weakness is your strength
neither resist nor aggress
push you pull a muscle
stand tall you fall or break
lie flat let storms
of slaughter pass overhead
lean with subsiding wind
bow down beneath melting ice

keep your foundations firm
harmonious give and receive
energy keep your heart
peacefully aware
balance slaughter with mercy
yen?s eye stares into yang?s

your spine God?s thread
is supple enough to rise
to stand on earth and reach
strong enough to stitch
the fabric of the world

(87 words)
Nancy Posey

I am posting again because I've looked in old and new comments and mine has disappeared.

Path of Least Resistance

Enough of the straight and narrow way for me.
Today I?m skipping down the primrose path,
letting conflict roll off me like water,
Whatever<, my mantra.

I?ve had enough of the bonsai tree life,
pruned and pinned against the wall.
I want to spread out like kudzu,
creeping boldly over vines and trees,
abandoned houses, cars left by the roadside.

Try to hide me in the darkened cellar
and I?ll turn my face toward chinks of light,
slipping around corners, not butting my head
through walls. Changing direction suits me
just fine. For now, the fight?s gone out of me.

(118 words)
Daniel Paicopulos

Nancy, it takes about four "older posts" clicks to get to yours, at 8:41 PA time, or such. You have several nice comments

(23 words)
Bruce Niedt


You are not what I can resist.
You are not smoked salmon,
Brussels sprouts, fresh mango,
or NHL hockey. You are not
American Idol or Honey Boo Boo,
and you are certainly not hip-hop,
Margaret Thatcher or a thunderstorm.
I am also positive you are not bungee-jumping
or reruns of Three?s Company.
And I am fairly confident you are not
A pit bull, a wasp, or WWF wrestling.
Unlike those other things, you pull me in
with your tractor beam, and I blissfully
comply, your servant, your assimilated one.

(90 words)
Christopher Staskel

Such great specific detail. And I just love the way that first line sounds.

(14 words)

Enumerating "what I can resist" is a great way in to this prompt. I like the phrasing throughout, "you are not bungee-jumping / or reruns of Three's Company" ... as a reader I was waiting for the irresistible one, and there was something satisfying about not getting a clear description -- as if the irresistible resists description.

(57 words)

Fantastic list poem!

(3 words)
Marilyn Cavicchia

Did you know that the NaPoWriMo prompt for today was to write a poem of negation, describing something by what it is not?

(23 words)
Linda Voit

love this and reads like "Litany Poem" by Billy Collins, which I also love.

(14 words)

Resistant Agent Orange

Chemo bombs the bad cells
breaks down the resistance for mutant cell builders,
sniper drugs search and destroy insidious targets,
other poisons in the ?cocktail? blast everything internal.
There?s plenty of collateral damage,
defoliating head to toe, making food taste like cardboard.
You survive six rapid-fire cycles of pinpoint accurate warfare,
each time lowering your resistance to infection.
You plough through as a tank in the jungle
as cancer is flushed out
like the tunneled enemy.

(79 words)


Serenity prevailing
In the wind blowing
In the moon glowing
In my steps slowing
In the night flowing

(19 words)
Jane Shlensky


Her hungry eyes and lip trapped
by her teeth are evidence
among the gray curls
of the little girl she was
delight centered in her face
as she eyes the bonbons,
pastries, pyramids of chocolates,
cookies, tarts, meringues.

We let her walk the counter,
take her time, savoring phantom
morsels on her tongue,
the melting loveliness, the residue
of bliss powerful as memory.

Are you ready? shocks her
back into the now. She sighs,
shakes her head; she won?t indulge.
She comes to feel the pull
of seduction, to balance
on the taut line between
temptation and resistance,
Imagination the sweetest
spot she knows.

(105 words)

As former Poet's Market editor and co-blogger at Poetic Asides, I'm not eligible to "compete"-but I want to try to participate in the PAD this year:

by Nancy Susanna Breen

They told me diabetes tears down
your resistance to disease. I get that.
I wish it tore down my resistance
to sugar addiction. A daily battle,
that craving for the rush of sugar,
its Sugar Plum Fairy toe-dance
on the tongue, the elevated seratonin,
the smile that spreads across my body.
But the finger-prick and test trip lurk,
waiting to reveal the serious truth: poisons
dress in tutus and shimmer with diamond dust,
pleasurable sensation is the high's illusion, the high
damages heart and veins, beckons eventual blindness,
knocks another stone out of the wall
of resistance to disease.

(131 words)
Michele Brenton


"We are what we think we are when we wake up.
We should try and be in some way
a different person by the time we go to bed.
Hopefully a happier, kinder one."

I am tempted to agree
but this does not apply
not today and not for me.

I've spent a lifetime
changing to a better
me each day
adjusting and amending
self-censoring what I say
trying hard to be
somebody I am not
to win the prize
of approving eyes
and this is what I've got:
no joy.
Just made it easier
for them to
push me and those
like me into
boxes and slam
the lid down tight.

This is where I am:
up against them.
No more
trimming my soul
hushing my mouth
hiding my face
That box won't close
on me because
I'm resisting.

Michele Brenton aka banana_the_poet

(150 words)
Nancy Posey

My poem went away. It's not under newer or older comments!

(11 words)

Barge Man in Spring

Up front, fight the current and you?ll lose,

Watch the whole damn thing go spinning,

Cut down a good bridge like nothing.

Look, that river is two brown legs

Around your ass. It?s them?ll tell when

To shove a little, wait, or drive hard ?

And you come together, or you?ll come apart.

You?re laughing. Go ahead. But pay attention.

You can wind up where you didn?t plan to go.

Now look ahead. When the dogwood?s out, spring?s

Spilled milk on the banks, and lovers? things

Want to steal your eyes, your memory too.

But rule two is Don?t drift. The signs

Move, and you?ve got to stay between the lines.

(115 words)

If Terrorist Groups Were Dance Moves

If terrorist groups were dance moves, Houthis would be bobbing their heads as the Watusi. Boko Haram are the Jitterbug, tearing up the floors of Nigeria and Cameroon, swinging girls with glee. al-Qaeda, of course, would be The Humpty Dance, all blatant sexist masculinity. The Taliban are a raucous belly dance, finger zills chiming, bellies showing, so hairy. Line dancing would be Hezbollah in Western garb, Stetsons and spurs their new insurgency. The Electric Slide? ISIS would teach you, teach you, teach you; you and that dog Mohammed and me.

(96 words)
Mr. Walker

resistance coupling

oh resistor
how i love you

my conduct
is not lamentable

you know
it warms you

our heat
is transformative

don?t repress
your feelings

let them shine

listen to the
Polecats sing

?Make a Circuit
with Me?

you know
it?s our song


I?ll meditate now

(51 words)


Mind goes blank
No words emerge
Thoughts seem empty
Their meaning lost
In materialization
Air void of scent
Or texture
Sunshine lacking color
And heat
A void of nothingness
Swallowing all
Allowing for
To surface

(37 words)


Refuse to be broken
To be molded into a form
A definition of woman
When wisdom knows the
Point when one becomes
A woman
Is when she writes
Her own rules
Of beauty.
Define your beauty
Not by a reflection,
But the assurance of
The grace of your sway,
The tilt of your head
With chin held high
In confidence that
Your opinion is as valuable
As the one that told you
That you were lacking.
Resist the noise that
Clouds the vision and
Hides the spark
In the eyes of a woman
With dark words that
Try to smother
Her worth.
For it is the softness
Of the curves that
Woman stands with knowledge
Of the truth of creation
And the strength
To bring peace
With the gentleness
Of a touch.

(133 words)
Poet Ariel


I resisted that pull towards unconsciousness last night;
that check-out that would have blinked me to morning.
I waited until today
when yesterday's worries could not find me
hidden in a new date.
Now with today shaking my shoulder
I find I'm resisting gravity, light;
that blink is always too too quick,
a swallow's dive off a tower,
and too long -

yesterday's worries have already found me,
curled into the pit of my stomach with they will gnaw, push and point.
Should I be grateful and capitulate?
Their wavering whispers keeps my foot hard on the right pedal,
on guard against futility.
Because of them, I stay fluid;
always have a back-up strategy, a side exit door,
always have an option of the next step
or a climb in case of an unexpected tumble.

The days are exhausting and bright;
no wonder I want to linger in the soft predawn,
just sit in quiet warmth
an illusion of security.
I slow over my ablutions as if to resist time's pull
but I must soon step out that door
and that will be the catapult into today's flurry,
my boxer's dance with bells signaling;
my desperate quest to right all my wrongs before I wrong them.
Too late.


(210 words)
Carla Ruth

Igor?s eve

Don?t fight me, darling. Not tonight;
relax. No need to be so cold.
You?ll warm up soon enough. Give me
your hand. So stiff! One day
you?ll love my touch. Maybe
today. Your skin?s
so pale, so dark (the lightning
strobes across your face.)

(46 words)

The last strawberry
lying on the blue table?
how can I resist?

(12 words)
Linda Rhinehart Neas

take advantage of the sun
warming the frozen earth
littered with flotsam
carried on winter winds?

Should I
grab the rake that stands
like a sentry
against the garden wall
waiting to be called to duty?

Should I
begin the rituals of spring,
or is it too early to clean
the beds, looking for signs
of life once again?

(62 words)

You should! nice!

(3 words)

The Figure a Dying Woman Makes

If poetry?s a momentary stay
against confusion just as Frost declared,

no wonder that she grabbed the nearest pen
at word her mother wouldn?t last the night,

not unlike an artist unafraid
she angled close to make the most of them?

her mother?s brows?too thin, she scrutinized,
panicking aloud I know she?d want

to look her very best
and made short strokes of black to fill them in.

by Stephanie Levin

(77 words)
Kimmy Sophia

so insightful at the funny things we humans do, loved it

(11 words)

Imagine how all
You have built will fall to a
Single trembling touch

(14 words)

It came unbidden
a grown child without a job.
Its unsavory friends come to party.
Beer drinkers.
Pot smokers.
Foul mouthed racists, would be an improvement.
And now it won't leave
despite our pleas, it sticks
like puffy rice burnt on a black pan.
Come this July, people best not complain
their soup is to hot.

(56 words)

a clever contemplation
creates a mirage
through you I cannot see clearly
yet I try to make it out
you are just made up
so I contain my curiosities

(29 words)

By Melissa Flood

Our clothes spread out on
The floor of your room.

When your fingers
Reached inside my hair
I shut my eyes.
I feel good.

Skin ignites
Shock us every time.
We pretend we don?t feel
So continue in laughter.

How do you preach a word
when you don?t know what it means?
Our souls signed a deed
Were bound to one of us weeps
And leaves.
But you can never fool the other
When your one step ahead.

(82 words)
Katha Krishna

"Should I?"

I heard the raindrops
tapping on the window pane
And I felt like getting drenched
Then I thought "Should I?"

I saw the mendicant
down the traffic lane
And I felt like helping out
Then I thought "Should I?"

I heard the society
Asking me to refrain
I felt like changing my ways
Then I thought "Should I?"

I saw myself in the mirror
Figuring out my way, pretending to be sane
I felt like being myself for a moment
Then I thought..."Should I?"

(86 words)

Cupcake Darling
by Victoria Hill-Chalmers

He is the sugar that tempts
on your latest fad diet. The
love that never dies away.
The scent of heartbreak
and sweet buttercream icing
is like a natural cologne,
and after just one night
it never leaves your clothes.

Thing is, you never wanted it
to be like this. Tell yourself
?I don't need him,
I don't need the way
he makes me feel like
I've wasted all my time
just to throw it away
on a minute of sickly-sweet bliss.?
A minute you'd probably miss
and need to grasp more of.

Don't forget that sugar-free
can be just as sweet, if not sweeter.
Black coffee is bitter,
but it can wake you up
and make you feel
so much more alive
than coca-cola ever could.

You want someone whose skin
tastes like the ocean, and
makes you feel as free and strong
as a wave breaking on a stormy day.
Someone that can steal away
the syrup on your tongue
and let you breath again.
You just want to breath again.

(178 words)

Resistance is like a slap in the face
or like nicotine running through your veins
Unaware as it eats your insides out
Then it takes you by surprise
as you grab a breath
and realize
to be better does not necessarily mean
to run away,
it refers to the seizing of your inner self
spewing the poison from your
lungs and holding tight
to what you are or might
have been.

(72 words)
Kendall A. Bell


Your body is limp, like a child
using dead weight, passive
resistance. Your limbs are flesh
colored anchors splayed on floor,
pointing towards purgatory.
There is a pulse.
Refusal is in the permanent ink
of your script. My words crash
against the wall and shatter,
those disregarded, invisible sounds.
I cannot pull you from your sleep
ambivalence anymore. You breath
and eat, sqwauk and stumble.
Nothing more.
Here is your perfect bound story
in fine print. The pages with my name
are in erasure.

(85 words)

?Maybe Not Today?

Sunshine, bike, blue sky
Sweat and toil and lungs afire

An infinite Loop, pure in design
Muscles ache and churn, leaving behind

Wifi, monitor, keyboard, mouse
I should be writing but just left the house

No finer prose will ever be written
Unfinished work abandoned by haste, fear, and repose
I do not want this love; I only want to be smitten

(65 words)

Summer Space (a cinquain)

Late summer eve
Sprawled in cool waning sun
Slam crack open the torn screen door
Don?t move.

(22 words)

Some feel born for resistance,
or, looking for trouble,
as generations of mothers have scolded,
seeking out a worthy
adversary to rise up against.

Some feel born for obedience
but are revolutionaries-
made. Note all get to choose
their own battles, yet
they are worthy all the same.

(48 words)


Hiding within
your fleshy cocoon,
you enter every door
before me.

Weeks counted,
imaged in sound,
centimeters dividing
your widening entrance.

Snow melting,
green grass
whispering your name,
the vernal earth awaits.

Oxygen molecules
hover anticipating
inhalation of
your first breath.

Bearing down,
harsh lights looking on,
soft breasts
seek you.

This world
calling forth,
can resist you
no longer.

(61 words)


I turn away for a moment
Can I hide my contempt?
She is ready to give up
After only two try?s

She grunts and moans
She sobs and whines
The little things overtake her
Then they unnerve me

Any new task
Always a struggle
Since she was born
And today at age 7

I resist the urge to help
She needs to learn on her own
From tying her shoes
To riding a bicycle

Such a daily conflict
As moms, we want to help
But they must go solo
We cannot always protect

So I become mean
I tell her not to give up
I?m not giving up
She must prevail

(112 words)

the phone rings through april
and you wonder if they've all banded together
conspired to construct a fortress
with the us's on the outside and the them's on the in
thoughts churn and turn more outlandish and extreme
and the extremities you also trusted gradually turn against you too
still you push
'til you tear the elastic film and emerge wounded, gasping
reaching for a guarded ray of sunlight
in a factory where all things are built to see only how far they can fall

(85 words)

Silver thread
laced with brown
snow on top
an autumn mountain
a silver mirror
reflections of gray
liquid color
to wash away
the snow of age
the silver threads
that betray

J Kuykendall

(35 words)
Sasha A. Palmer


They saw lightning from behind closed curtains
They heard thunder on their flat tin roofs
Their ragged hearts expanded like the air
In the path of the electrical discharge

In the never ever town of Everington
They saw a boy dance up the empty streets
In his hand-me-down fisherman?s sweater
Stone-washed jeans the color of the sea

They heard the sound of his fiery feet
Echo in the depths of the coal mines
Stir the ancient beast lying upon
The Magna Carta of the human identity

They gasped as he leaped o?er the brick walls
Free as the rain breaking the cloud open
Light with the wisdom of an eleven-year-old
The soles of his shoes worn out as their souls

(122 words)
Rachel Nix


Our argument has aged and altered itself to fit our positions.
You cannot listen; I have forgotten how to remember you.

It was always a misguided approach from either end, anger
being the only thing that felt like home. I learned early to

harness my words, to let silence speak on my behalf. You took it
upon yourself to remedy only your reputation, not the reality

behind us. I resisted your truths, in favor of my own. It became
an odd sort of comfortable, this separateness?it felt like

an alliance we both understood, more pure than what I?d grown
used to. Forgiveness presented itself; I eyed it only a moment

before watching it spoil. It bore a finality with its entrance?
we were never having the same argument, only wanting to

be right. But your reach became rough, lacking in any attempt
at tenderness. I learned: some hands are not meant to be held.

? Rachel Nix, chasingthegrey.com

(159 words)


(1 words)

The Sound of Resistance

I dread the thought of it. The resistance
I have to experience each and every time
is more than I can handle on most days.
I try to hold back my anger,
as I know angry never wins.

I search for a long, narrow point,
as I know you can never go wrong
with the sharpest knife in the drawer.
I jab it, sticking it in as far as hard as I can.
I don?t want to fight, but the resistance is strong.
I keep going for what seems like 3 or 4 minutes,
thinking I?ve sealed the deal, when I can?t cut any further.

I grab it and try to pull it with my hands,
Then reach for the knife once again.
After what seems like an eternity,
I finally peel the wrapper off my new CD.

I cut through the resistance only to find
the top and bottom have been taped shut.

Someone get me a knife.

(163 words)
Mariya Koleva

*My Resistance Poem*
It?s a hurdle race -
Our road to perfection.
I?d rather drop all bored clichs that bore me.
I?d rather invent some fresh and cute stanzas
That break all routine and hail me with spontaneity.
But I?d rather just move on.

Unnoticing the greyness of the new spring
Unheeding the dullness of the novel sky -
That same sky which hangs on our walls,

I?d rather forget about this road to perfection
Which frustrates me,
But I?d rather not.

(83 words)
Jennifer Peach

by jennifer peach:

the last time you left, my eyes swelled up like
water balloons, begging to break over your wings
so you could not leave the ground; stay, stay.

now I am made of mostly moisture, paralyzed
in public places. a spectacle to prod at just to find
out if my ocean legs can still writhe at all,

but the weight of water always spills its vital
secret just before it makes loves to my lungs, whispering
"release. let go. i have come here to carry you home."

(91 words)

Easy Street

?Dig down deep?
she says,
?into the pit of your own churning.?
?See that hippie girl standing strong
like the waves crashing at her feet,
becoming soft like the water that pools??

All that is asked of you now
is to grow old and healthy
green and wrinkled like oak tree.
Today that means resistance.
No go with the flow of the stream.

Rise up like a native warrior
as if your life depended on it,
because it does, woman.
If you want to be that golden stalk of wheat
blowing in the wind or that great oak
still standing after the storms of life,
watching the changing landscape
nurturing new growth all around you,

resist like the freedom fighters
taxing every muscle with their burdens
and weapons of life.
Or the water women walking toward the mirage
resisting heat and pain of desert to bring life.

All you must do in front of your computer screen
is resist to the next easy meal,
through the next set of ten reps,
to the next ten thousand steps,
toward the next piece of juicy fruit in a bowl.
You win.
Life on an easy white American street.

(198 words)

held out fifteen years
brand new washer and dryer
high efficiency

I resisted buying new about seven years ago when the belt went on my washer. Instead we had the belt replaced, but my dyer quit on me now. The washer still works well these 15 years; however, hubby wanted a matching set.

(53 words)

I Can't Resist

coffee in the morning.
a mystery story.
searching for the
bird that sings.
the sound of the
club when I swing.
taking a walk
along the beach.
picking up shells
within my reach.
watching the
sunset anywhere.
staring at the moon
because it's there.

By Michelle Pond

(50 words)

(In addition to the daily challenge, I'll be using an all-encompassing theme of "self-acceptance" to link all my poems together this month)


I'm told its a choice
- and the wrong one -
so I make an effort to keep
my glances brief;
my expression vacant;
my comments safe;
my guard up;

and my desires secret!

But its so hard to
the urge to


and hope

when she flashes me that
that cuts through all
my defenses
- all my pretenses -
and makes me
flushed and hot,
aroused and alarmed,

and unwilling to offer any resistance at all.

(116 words)

Topic: Resistance

I wait.
Please move.
Don?t stand so close to the paper thin door.
Go to another room.
For the love of Pete, just go!
I won?t go.
I can?t.
Not ?til you?re gone.
I bolt for the door and lock it shut behind me.
Quickly I turn the water on
And even quicker, I drop my drawers and take a seat.
Sweet Jesus, there?s nothing like peeing when you have to hold it.

(77 words)
Robert Lee Brewer Post author

Just a quick note: The poems are not disappearing. You just have to click the "Older Comments" link to view older comments/poems.

(22 words)

by: A. Lebron

I am pushed and I am shoved
I am dragged across life
kicking and screaming
Made to believe belief
because there are little truths
in the absorbing darkness
surrounding us exclusively
but I can see
never with eyes, no, never visually
but I can feel the hairs raise on my arm
I can hear the murmurs the trees speak
I can taste the probability...
There will always be change
I'm just a quantification of its feat

(80 words)


a book at the bottom
of my shelf.
how long has it been there?
and stuck in that in-between space
where I know nothing it enfolds
but I know the essence of everything it says.
how many times
did my eyes skim those pages?
it brings back the revenant flood
i still don't have the resources.
how may times
did it find its place in the bin?
but still
back at the bottom
of my shelf.

(78 words)


Outside, the rain is suspended.
I find myself wanting
and wishing for
the reflective kind,
the ones that allow us to fall into the sky
without having to tilt our heads backward.

But the breeze
is glib,
and the silver tongue of it all
leaves the rain in regret,
shattered it remains
suspended above us,
eloquently counting its petals.

-JR Simmang

(68 words)


The skyscraper
So tall
and majestic
Never yielding to gravity

So heavy
Pushing against me
Always holding me down

No longer just a girl
I will be
Unyielding to the world around me
The sky is the limit

(41 words)
Bruce Niedt

Resistance is Futile

All of you who cannot wait
for the next rollout, the Next Big Thing
so you can stand in line overnight
to be the first on your block,

soon the day will come when
all you will need is a subdermal
or cerebral implant, and they will brand
a logo of a fruit with a bite taken from it
(symbol of temptation)

on your forehead, a walking billboard,
and you will all think alike with the help
of social media, your hive mind telling you
that your life is better now that you
have melded with technology, your skin
growing over it, your brain assimilated.

(108 words)
Janet Rice Carnahan

Sasha . . . I just noticed the same thing. They all disappeared.

(13 words)
Sasha A. Palmer

I believe I don't see a number of poems that were here in the morning..my poem is among the 'vanished' :-( Will try looking for it later, perhaps it'll come back.

(30 words)
Janet Rice Carnahan


Pink cherry blossoms
Please resist opening soon
Winter coldly waits

(14 words)
Daniel Paicopulos

You say more Ina few words than I do in a page

(12 words)

I love haiku and you have enveloped it well!

(9 words)
Hanna D.

I like this one. :-)

(4 words)

This captures such a lovely moment. :-)

(6 words)
R. Tirrell Leonard Jr

Bring Out the Sun

A futile and a thing, is of which I will think
As cyborgs in a hive will collect in a wink.
And I dream in the sun as the snow will not melt
Yet the birds in a song as a warmth is not felt.

So I watch of the sky as the clouds will stroll by
One wonders as I have, in a word or a cry
As a babe in the hay, as the cold will not shrink
And the snow will not stop, and I sigh as I think.

As the hour so resists to go on and it clicks
As futile an effort is a pause, or the tricks?
In the gloom of a day as is bright, as is this!
I will wait, is no longer my cause in my bliss.

I so shout at the cold to embrace all the warmth
I resist not a whit, nor a bird to dream warmth.

(162 words)
Janet Rice Carnahan

Thank you, Robert. Onward and Up word . . . time for another April PAD! Go, poets!


Walking the path,
A small rabbit sat still.
I couldn?t resist,
Speaking softly to her.
She resisted running.
A simple connection of trust formed,
Not resisting,
The presence of each other.
Inches away,
I unknowingly,
Crunched a leaf beneath my feet,
Jumping in unison at the startling sound,
We suddenly couldn?t resist,
Going our own way . . .

(81 words)

Title: http://www.narayankripa.com/2015/04/poem-my-fight-for-justicei-am-winning.html"; title "My Fight for The Justice...I am Winning!"


they are stalking
they are threatening
every day!
their eyes are on me
where I go
what I do
whom I talk with
whom I meet
who loves me
whom I love
how I work
how I relax
every day for years
every day from morning to evening
my phone calls,
my casual chats
my grocery shopping
my exercise
my travel
my even my silent tears
they are cruel
I am calm
they want to break me
I am growing strong
they scare me
I am growing tough
they want to break me
my courage
my silent courage hits back
quietly! my confident eyes retaliate
years are passing
they have power
I have the courage
they have money
I have the strength of truth with me
years are passing
life is going on
I am alone
I am a woman
a weak human
what they believe
I am a woman
easy and safe to threaten
easy to break
what they thought
I am alone
they are many
with ugly cruel faces and bikes
their cars
crossing me on every square
loaded guns
around me
I am alone
calm and fearless
working bravely
'I can?t have weapon'
they thought
it?s easy to kill me
they thought
they planned
it?s easy to kill me
their threats
my fears
I will die
with fear
"no proof, no crime!"
they laughed!
their power laughed at the innocent woman
what they assumed
when they began
when they began
years have passed
I have my weapon
my courage
my strength
my eyes with confidence
?dare to look at me
and the whole world will know your crime?
my eyes tell them
yes! I am alone
they are many
still my eyes tell them,
?the world is with me
you are losing this game.?
my fight for justice
with growing courage
they are scared
their weapons are weak now
years are passing
fight is going on
war for justice is going on
by a woman alone
without any help
without any weapon
with the monsters
injustice is being defeated
their ugly aggressive faces
look worried now
my war for justice
with calm courage
they stalked
they snooped for years
I was calm when it all began
I am calm even today
my fight for justice
my fight for freedom
my fight for my rights
though soundless for this world
I am winning every day
this game
they are losing
every day
I am winning
with the power of courage
I am winning
this game
for my freedom
for my justice
for my rights!
my courage
is winning
my life is winning
my eyes are winning!

(454 words)

The Pittance
by David M. Hoenig

He remembers the instance when he was diagnosed in free-fall towards death. He feels the instants rushing past at terminal velocity and regrets stream from his eyes. Thoughts about his rapidly shuffling coil press with increasing insistence when the indignities of pain and frailty achieve persistence despite all assistance. He realizes that the distance behind is greater than that ahead, and wonders if his resistance to reaching his destination is a good thing. It changes his stance on it when the scales fall from his eyes; he divides that distance by his velocity in order to solve for time! The rush slows then pauses, and the whole of his existence dances upon a pinhead of meaning. Still terminal, his velocity falls away as he seizes his chance to breathe, and the resulting calculations stretch his time to infinity instead of the expected pittance.

(149 words)


Like water slowly wearing a hole in granite
My aversion to growing old is wearing thin
After all, silver hair shines just as brightly
As the long wind-blown blonde that used to crown me
My heart is still twenty years old
Rising to meet the challenges thrown at it
If the body is slow to answer?
Well, maybe the wisdom gained
On my journey compensates a little
But, still I resist, granite stubbornness
Refusing to give in to the persistent wear
The passing of time inflicts on my body

(90 words)

My Struggle
I have a struggle within
A struggle within
I love to eat
But I gain too much weight
Eating is my favorite thing to do
And I love it so much
But I think I'm gonna have to leave it
Or I'll get diabetes

(46 words)

by Lorien Vidal


Far and beyond the keyboard click
Mind wanders to where a better deal might lie
The infinite searches keep attention locked
It?s a roadblock to self-improvement
To the movement beyond the click and carry
To above and beyond the daily tarry
Keeping me pinned to the same old shtick

The endless loop searches causing hope to belie
the predicament of self-sabotage keeping attention locked
in the where and why and the stuck in ordinary

(82 words)

"Who Is The Modern Resistance?"

Resistance today comes in the form of
Facebook post protests.
Couch potato, armchair quarterbacks for change.

I wonder frequently,
would any of them take a stand with their own body?

Walk into Memories Pizza in Indiana
and demand their opposition to hate, be heard?

I worry that resistance has become a fleeting falliable word.
One we don't understand at all.

The internet firewalls we have protecting us
go up a mile high.

Is there anyone left courageous enough to climb them?

(86 words)

In a Better Place

He was there or is he still
For sorrow has been fulfilled

With dread and misery is what has become
In his world days of happiness have come

He'll be out of pain
But somehow thats all I tend to gain

He would want us to live in happiness
Without him I feel emptiness

He has been loved from many
Plenty more will come
As we say top 3 main words
On heaven and on earth

(81 words)

Dead, we are and still I
can?t help remembering.
I dream dreams I don?t want.
I?m wrong, but is dreaming so
terrible when it?s against my
will and wishes.

(29 words)
Amanda Oaks

Skin as Thick as Thieves

Drag her through the river
& she?ll come up dry?

she?ll beach herself
before she bows to bare

her swampland chest
heart-soaked, bandages

dripping, a slow leak,
a roof holding years of weather,

a lamp that shocks the fingers
every time it is turned on,

the proof tucked away,
a rusty key broken-off

in the lock of a drawer
with no knob.

(67 words)

"A Love's resistance"
It's hard to resist your lips against mine,
your touch sending electricity though my body,
our minds suspended in time.

It's hard to resist the fact that I found what I need,
in a person who's miles and miles away,
but keeps me going and pushing through.

It's hard to resist that i'm scared, that things happen,
people leave and walk away, their situations pulling them farther
and farther away.

It's hard to resist that I don't know who that'll be anymore.


(86 words)

Happy first day of PAD everyone!
Thank you, Robert, guest judges and screening readers!

A tiny one inspired by our walk this morning?

Whiskeag Creek

Yawning tin mouth of culvert gulps thirstily
early spring ice persists in splay of thin layers
but geometric crystal feathers can?t resist
pull of motion and warming smile of sun ?
water undone cannot stop lunging forward
captivated in a swirling dance of eddy.

Copyright Hannah Gosselin 2015

And a fun one?

I?m a Pusher

I?m a pusher ? a pusher of poetry.
I stand on morning?s corner
wait for big yellow with the rest of them.
I try to convince ? attempt to reveal inner hunger
and since it only comes once a year
April proves to be a best-selling month,
I deal the perfect opening?

It?s National Poetry Month!
Hook is dropped
response is positive
and so I?m bold?
you should write a poem a day ?
you know you want to
everyone else is doing it?
Reaction is a daunted one.
How about haiku?
It?s only three lines a day?
promise it won?t hurt.

I can?t help it.
I just want them all ?
all to become achingly-addicted, too.
Need them to crave release of buried words
pull and push of pure inspiration in their veins?
I can?t resist the urge ? I?m a pusher ? a poetry pusher.
I stand on morning?s corner waiting?

Copyright Hannah Gosselin 2015

(239 words)

How can anyone resist poetry (especially haiku?), but they do. Thank goodness there are those like you that make it so beautiful the resisters won't be able to say no. :-)

(30 words)

Winter Resistance Undone

Vermillion sun beams
In vernal rolling breezes
Winter's tears below

(13 words)

Beautiful! And such a welcome sentiment after this winter!

(9 words)

Beautiful use of color! I can feel those breezes and sunbeams!

(11 words)


The desire lights up like a match inside of me.
I toss and turn in restless fury
Once again, I want what I can't have
If wishes were horses, I'd be riding wild
But tonight, wishes are as distant as the stars
Flickering dimly, hidden in the smog
I can't lie to myself, no matter how much I want to
I dance with temptation in a masochistic tango
Wrestling with devils instead of God and angels
Until exhaustion gives way to sleep
And I wake up with the guilt that only mercy can relieve

(95 words)


I am done

No longer
Serve me

I embrace

I am open
All day
All night
Lights on

(26 words)
Mark Danowsky

The war that would bring us together

Once around the lunch table
a kid I hardly knew got all excited
about giant insects

He was literally up in arms
exclaiming a war with giant insect invaders
would bring us together

Unknown to me were films (and books)
exposing his unoriginality?
but for me this was terra incognita

I wanted the war to come
to fruition, in my imagination
it would solve the petty everyday indecencies

This was before that geometry class
when we were shepherded to a tv
to watch a plane hit a building over and over

-Mark Danowsky

(100 words)
De Jackson


i have tried
to keep your secret
name small and still
on my tongue for such
a time and much
too long, but it
wants to spill out into
the world,

a song.


(35 words)

No, No, No
no no no
Oh, OK

(14 words)

Curled UP
The sun knocks at the bedroom window
cats roam around the room
one jumps up on the bed nuzzles my neck
the alarm started playing music
25 minutes ago

Yet I linger
curled in a ball
held by warmth and comfort
infant memories of carefree pleasures
no responsibilities
no bosses
no bills to pay
I drift to days of
where I will stay for now.

(68 words)


I met with resistance today
It didn?t go well
Words were said
Some with regret

I backed away in anger
for not standing my ground
I should have expressed
my true feelings

Not long after, I met face to face
with resistance once again
This time, I came fully prepared
for a showdown

Things got uncomfortable
but I held firm
Resistance took a step back
a bit shaken by my stance

I declared I was moving forward
and nothing would get in my way
I needed to go it alone
without anyone holding me back

With that, our meeting was over
Our differences, irreconcilable
Needless to say, our split was not amicable
It turned nasty in a flash

Resistance tried to stop me at every turn
Jealousy is not an enviable trait
There?ve been threats and verbal attacks
Attempts to knock me down and out

But my focus is steady
My resolve is strong
I don?t let resistance get to me anymore
I?ve moved on

(167 words)


Like fresh copper, we sparked on our first meeting,
a palpable arc, the unseen current flowing freely between us,
and for a time it was cocooned
in the protective film of newness.

All that was before
before the miscarriage
before the depression
before the lonely late night drives
while I sat at home rocking our crying child
each before a new nick in the coating
each nick a new chance to arc out
each arc a new point of resistance

An unprotected wire tarnishes,
A tarnished wire corrodes,
corrosion leads to loss
of power
of current
of flow
of connection

As the resistance grows, we tend toward entropy,
the state where all current stops and the system fails.

It?s not enough to fix the wires once the damage has been done,
it?s not enough to cover the nicks with tape to stop the arc.
There comes a time when the system needs to be abandoned
or repaired,
when patches and splices make a monster out of beauty
when the cobbled together remnants of our past will fail,
unless we rebuild.
Tear out the tattered remnants and rebuild those connections
even though money?s tight and you?ll say we can?t afford it,
it?s the only way.

We could still decrease the distance
and find a way to keep the connection.

(219 words)

I have a second poem

Death Is Tardy

I shiver as someone walks
over my grave, AIDS, HIV
friends on their way to dust,
yet death repels any attempt
to engrave a date on my pink,
granite gravestone where
two roses never fade
and my parents wait
for me to decay
next to them.


(55 words)
De Jackson


she pulls, fools

even the best of us
into looking up. she pools

ocean into obedient tide,
slides her last slivered slice
right on down with a final

she rules all this
ebony sway, this pin-pricked
blanket sky. she?s new

and full
and blue and wax and wane
and howl and hum

and hide.

when she starts
her silvered serenade, you
might as well just
start dancing.

it all goes to her head
sometimes; she forgets
she?s nothing
but a skystone,
waiting to shine.


(87 words)

oh, I love it!!

(4 words)

De!!! Goosebump-good! You know I can't resist a great moon poem! ?

(12 words)
James Von Hendy

Lovely and hypnotic, De. 2 for 2 today!

(8 words)

Against the Business of Birdsong

I make the house giant, its million bricks,
embarrassed to be my hierarchy,
turn inwards from their job of pushing out,
obliged to watch and glad to hand on to
a cat that comes around three times a day.

Always and never, are tenets dissolved
in a crafted isolation, a stand
against a life it took years to pretend.
Against the business of birdsong I choose,
to kneel and clean a bath I do not use.

(81 words)

I don't want to pray
for the dead man,
but he's crying
so that I hear him.
So I do.

(20 words)


No changing entropy, the great
winding down of the universe,
the great cool down, the dying
into a cold, quiet, dead mass.
But all the fun is in getting there,
the journey, fighting all the way.
Friction, the atomic push-back,
the molecular level revolutions,
giving us heat, light, radiation.
Resistance measured in Ohms,
by chance, the name the ancients
gave the cosmic hum, the vibration,
the soul, heart-beat of everything.

(71 words)



I went ahead.
He stayed behind.
The transfer did not
Go through
Or around
Or above.
He could not move.

A month later
Children enrolled in school.
Still he could not come.
He stayed behind.
Playing golf.

Two months more.
The dog nearly died.
The car did.
This time the transfer
Was lost.
He had to start

Suspicions arose
Like the steam
Off the pavement
On a hot Lousiana day
After a storm.

I know now I was on a bicycle
Built for two
In front
Huffing, puffing.
I looked behind.
He was wearing holes
In his shoes.
Dragging feet.

(106 words)

This late March snow storm~
winter pushing back on spring~
will succumb to sun.

Karen Slikker

(16 words)

There is only resistance
where there is intention, will, effort.

And then the force denying:
the wheel, the cap, the relationship stuck
the white of the page,
the cloying hours of the afternoon
the decades of habit that make your eyes
look at your eyes in the mirror
and look away in disappointment.

But not today.
Resistance has been surrounded on all sides
by perseverance which, sharing the will, eases the will

forced effort let's go
pushback let's go

and writing about love
now and spring
and time
time left

and love
down the page

(96 words)
BG Charman

?Futility finds?

Futility resists

The end comes like the shadow
of a hand across the land

the fingers are the cities in night
the fist is the day that comes

Futility persists

Armies of maggots find valleys of worms
they join battle to claim the meat

all that remains
of a song they never heard

Futility insists

Pitiful survivors dance in the great shadow
of that which was

inspired they lash bleak shapes
to the walls of their caves

Futility finds

a wound of echoes
a call to dance
a fever that shames
a song of silence

By Barry Charman

(100 words)

Kennel Cab

The carrier is so near
but feline feet pump
air, flailing, adamant
about non-capture.

Claws, sinew, heft -
all are amplified
in this struggle
to avoid confinement

and worse, release
onto a metal table
skittering paws
with no purchase,

nowhere to hide,
except back into
the dread pink plastic

Kimberlee Thompson

(54 words)
Mark Danowsky

Washed Out

Not only snooze
buttons hold us

bed-bound up
I drag myself around

14-18 hour days
to mill the house


Night is given up
by the hour

of first can crack
and pull

of the blue screen
for lull


Any glance here
forward is a secret

push toward
putting myself down

in dark
to escape dark

-Mark Danowsky

(61 words)

Any idea why my poem isn't there anymore?

(8 words)
uneven steven

A dying bumblebee might have such a view,
a frilly dressed girl throwing herself down in despair,
a melancholy boy shrunken by responsibilities
lost in the garden yard one last time -

blue sky and translucent petals,
ants busily stepping,
the smell of chlorophyll and black dirt
root and stem
cool and moist the earth
cradling the nape of your neck,
the world falling away the moment
we decide we must.

Steve LaVigne

(73 words)
James Von Hendy

Nice, Steve, compelling.

(3 words)
Mark Danowsky

Washed Out

Not only snooze
buttons hold us

bed-bound up
I drag myself around

14-18 hour days
to mill the house

Night is given up
by the hour

of first can crack
and pull

of the blue screen
for lull

Any glance here
forward is a secret

push toward
putting myself down

in dark
to escape dark

-Mark Danowsky

(59 words)
Daniel Paicopulos


(1 words)

By Christopher J. Jarmick

Resistance is futile
But I must try because
Groucho?s song at
the beginning of Horse Feathers
is truly my anthem:
?Whatever it is? I?m against it?.
I muse use reverse psychology
even on myself
and trick me
into playing along with the game.
But since the game is on,
I must resist like a revolutionary with torn
Che T-shirt and nothing to lose.
I?ll prove somehow
that it is not futile to resist at all
and simply going beyond
the friction,
the sparks, the generated heat.
I shall give myself over
to the art of it;
not the act,
not the doing or undoing but
the exhale of it?
the breath itself.

(117 words)

My Resistance

My fine thread of patience
won't snap, won't give in.
No load, no hard blows
can part this fluttering leaf
from it's purposeful twig.
Temptations might grow
before my eyes
But they're out of sight
for my mind.
Sharpen swords of torture
and arrows of despite
But never would they be
any match for my might.

-Azma Sheikh

(60 words)
Daniel Paicopulos


I want to be seduced
by truth and beauty,
but not all at once.
I need to hold back a bit,
let it come at me slowly,
give me time
to walk around it,
smell it,
get a feel for it,
before I let it enter
my be-do-have world.
When it comes to things
of great grace,
I need to be primed,
relaxed in readiness,
waiting more for wisdom
than just a good time.

(75 words)

wow! lovely! it feels so close to the poem I'm still working on, which even has the word "prime" in it. I'm letting it sit awhile before posting. This feels so familiar to me! Lovely work.

(36 words)
Linda Voit


(1 words)


Life pulls imperceptibly
From both ends
Incrementally attenuating purpose
Vision and desire
As electrons begin to slow
Their frenzied charge
Through the winding soul
Throbbing down to a dull dance.

At last, the thread drawn so thin
The fuse blows,
The channeled dance ceases and
Flies free, unimpeded
Back toward the stars.

(53 words)

Unanswered questions

What if
in my youth
I had not resisted

been less conventional
been less intentional
where would I be

Would I have the same
two children or maybe more
or maybe
none at all?

Would I be writing poems
about myself
or penning works of
weight and worth?

If I could go back
would I yield?
Most likely not,
I'll give in now instead.

(68 words)


Despite the way the heft of them resists
everyday winds

every tree is susceptible to lightning,
every rooftop to weight

of snow.
All these radio

lyrics make sense now?
the ones about

love being a bitch, and hearts
obliterated, scarred

and all those wet pillows and bottles
of whiskey. As if all along

they had been yodeling
in foreign tongues and something

gave way inside me,
quit resisting

commonplace awfulness,
realigning with a gasp,

and I understand.
Earthquakes can

split Ohio, even, and frozen
pipes can burst before you know they froze.

-Kerry Trautman

(96 words)


I grapple with sincerity as my ruse
Reenacting a sad theater play
The stage has become a home
My performance is just a show
The outpouring of my imagination
Seen through the wanting eyes of others
Until the curtain makes a reveal
Showing the plethora of used masks
Several variations of well worn garments
Yet, only one pair of old running shoes
A tongue compressed to the side
Laces held together through strands
Withered soles bleeding mud and grime
They have left in them one last run
Will I be able to make the most of it?
Resistance is futile
The show must go on

Nelson M

(108 words)
Marilyn Cavicchia

The Morning Expands to Admit You

Resistance may be futile,
but many things are not
quite as they?ve been billed.

How the pebbles fly up into
your wheel wells as you drive,
startling your dog, your child,

or you. The morning expands
to admit you; it seldom resists
at all. I wish I could remove

the balky things from your world?
sore feet and squeaky hinges,
a certain tic above your eye?

unless you love them.
Unless I?m one of them.
Unless you love me.

(85 words)

It Is Spring, Isn?t It?

Snow on the daffodils
ice crystals on the crocus
gray slush in the street
scarves ,winter coats, gloves
is it an April fools? joke
or winter?s resistance to leave.

(34 words)
barton smock

-the boy won?t eat-

to him, these meals
are small
fictions. there is

some truth
to his mother

the weigher
of light.

(23 words)
James Von Hendy

Nice and tight, barton.

(4 words)

End of Resistance

I tried.
Just like you.
But you won.

I lied.
Just like you.
At what cost.

You died
Just like that.
Now I'm lost.

JW Laviguer

(29 words)
Vivian Wagner

The Physics of Moving On

It's how matter works.
It resists change.
It moves and stays moving.
It stops and stays stopped.
My son, preparing to leave home for college,
looks at me for answers, for clues.
What will it be like?
Where will I go?
What will I do?
And I have only this to offer him:
He's been moving forward since that first day
fuzzy-headed in the hospital,
he squinted at the strange light.
On the day we left,
I squeezed his baby seat into the back
of an old VW rabbit.
It sputtered and leapt the few blocks home,
and there my son slept,
moving even in his stillness,
giving shape to passage.

(116 words)
Beverly Deirocini


if we resisted all of the friction?

we would be found orbiting the planet

Beverly Deirocini

(22 words)

Oh, I love where you took this...this direction played in my mind at first as well...about gravity. Excellent approach.

(19 words)

I really like this!

(4 words)
James Von Hendy

Great perspective!

(2 words)
Brian Slusher


I?m not the epic
I?m the fail
I?m not the hammer
I?m the nail

And they?re coming for me
Soon enough
Hear the rattle
Of the cuffs?

I?m not the key
I?m the off
I?m not the shit
But the crock

And they?re coming for me
Soon not late
The jacket they?re packing
Is perfectly straight

I?ll kick, I?ll twist
Curl into a fist
I?ll bray, I?ll bark
Bite like a shark

I?m not the way
I?m the NO
They?ll whisper Cool
I?ll shout BLOW!

And they?ll drag me off
To disappear
Sweep up the glass
Repair the door

And you?ll forget
Before it?s done
I wasn?t the loved
I was the un

(117 words)

Good job!

(2 words)
A.R. Bonner

Love this Brian!

(3 words)
Beverly Deirocini

Wow! The ending pierced my heart.

(6 words)
kelly letky

This is great... I especially love the end, you really carried through on the word play.

(16 words)

Great kick-off!

(2 words)

I wasn't the loved I was the un
Beautiful Slusher! Beautiful

(11 words)
James Von Hendy


They told me ?resistance is futile.?
I said they watched too much TV, but here
we were again in our leather recliners,
the remote control sticky in our hands

as the Borg slid across the galaxy
and Captain Pickard said ?make it so.?

I?d flown into San Jose over arteries
and cloverleaves clogged with anti-like cars
crawling to or from the nests of industry,
and seen the hives of honeybees collapse

on Discovery or Animal Planet
in a hotel room far from home as if

it was an alien experience,

and it was all I could do to get up
for another beer and ask the others

if they wanted one, too, but I already knew.

(117 words)

Go Trekkies!!

(2 words)

The references cause this to be meaningful as it captures a bit of history and it captured in a strong and creative voice as well, James...I enjoyed this. The collapse weighs heavy on my heart. Well done!

(37 words)

The title's perfect: colony. Many of them.

(7 words)


There?s a place you can?t enter,
for the doors are locked

shutting you out. The world waits
breathing in deep, exhaust fumes from

vehicles moving past, counting
the seconds, the minutes

before. And then with one silent
cry, the crowd surges forward like a

tidal wave, shoving the
cars parked along the street, the line of

cops in front dissolve like
ants disturbed in their quest of moving in

line to wherever ants go. The battle cry rises
I hear it now. They are coming close

but they will not get me, not now
now ever. The doors are barred, the locks

in place. The guns loaded.
I will not leave.

(112 words)

(a shadorma)

is futile, I?m drawn
to putting
my thoughts in
-to words, my words into forms.
Six lines at a time.

Paula Wanken

(30 words)

Sleep Resistance

My ten year old toes curl
into the moist lakeshore
sand, still warm long after
the days sun had succumbed
to the lure of the
western horizon.

The cooling wind of the day
calmed with the setting sun,
leaving the lake?s surface a sheen
of bright chrome in the starlight.

The moon?s first light
through the spillway
notch in the dam paints
a walkway of butter across
the water?s surface towards
me as if beckoning.

The night?s stillness
is interrupted by
the frequent splashing
of the mooneyes
playing in the water at
my feet.

My eyes are heavy
with sleep but I resist
breaking this bubble of solitude
to join the others inside

(115 words)

I love the picture you have created here.

(8 words)

This began as a resistance poem, but became something else. I'll post in anyway.

A Goblin Carousal

If you?ve been invited,
tis best to bring the wine?
in barrels. Crush

the grapes yourself,
stomp them at twilight
after a hot day for the brew

must smell of feet.
Use grapes as large as eggs,
as sweet as honey,

as dark as blood.
Mix the soup with a sword
gnarled with battle in a vat

set over a pinewood fire.
Add chunks of apples
and melon, fat rendered

from the meat of a slain boar,
three gallons of gremlin sweat,
and powdered ivory scraped

from the fangs of a sleeping dragon.
Boil the mishmash until
it?s as thick as mud,

thick enough to snare a horse,
then souse the paste
with a heavy grog.

Boil again, quickly barrel,
storing each drum in a pit
with walls of moist earth;

blanketed the pit with tree boughs
so the sun?s promise
is buffeted. Once a black

haze rises above the boughs,
chill and serve in iron mugs.
Yes, tis best to bring the wine.

S. Thomas Summers

(185 words)

When It Rains (a rondel poem)
by Penelope Connor

You take my hand, I can't resist.
We find our haven in the storm.
I know these clouds, the way they form,
the wind that makes my passions twist.

I knew you the first time we kissed.
The sun was hot; your lips were warm.
You took my hand, could not resist.
We found our haven in the storm.

I hope for rain, though drought persists.
Still I rebel, will not conform
to rules that keep us from the storm.
I dreamed a place where we can tryst.
Come take me now, we can't resist.

(104 words)
James Von Hendy

Nicely done.

(2 words)

A Girl?s Worst Enemy

If you want it, little one,
I say go for it. Push
against the wind.

You can be that
which they tell you
not to be, wrinkled,

messy, covered in
rock dust or motor
oil. You can

follow the path between
commercials, hidden
among the creams

and lotions, camouflaged
in the bright glow
of popular culture.

Sarah Ghoshal

(62 words)

You can hear the emotion in your imagery. I feel the same way. Especially a a female, were offered options but as long as it fits into the mold they set for us. And heaven forbid we look old and tired while were doing it!

(45 words)


Greener pastures are calling.
I can hear them just outside my door
Waiting for me to answer.
But the deadbolt keeps firm.
My eyes watch the knob with hopes of it turning.
But the deadbolt keeps firm.
My heart patters with ideas of new horizons.
Still the deadbolt keeps firm.
While I wonder patiently why my greener pastures won't just come in,
I find no words to answer with.
So the deadbolt keeps firm.
I hope they come back tomorrow.

(81 words)

by kimberly jolanda

no matter
what you throw at me;
logic, common sense
or reason,
i will never forget
the road i travelled;
crossroad decisions and
back-or-forth deliberations,

you may clip my wings,
or try to drown
the light in my eyes,
but i?ll always
remember the lingering
sensation of feathers
sprouting from my
naked shoulder blades ?

i?ll remain a chaser,
dreams the rhythm
of my beating heart.

(71 words)
Lynanne Carroll

Love this, especially the last stanza. Resonates

(7 words)


I try to escape perseverance,
but doesn't that move you forward?

I can't beat me,
let alone out-think me.

I am afraid to say of "my body,"
as it is truly not.

How do escape emotions,
if it's not a physical matter?

You can't,
you can't escape something within,
but you can think of a way to escape it,
and this is why thinking inside the box,
may be the best scenario.

(73 words)
A.R. Bonner

The Sweetest Urgency:

Panic consumes me
on site
chocolate cookies
hot fudge
love at first sight

Habitual habit
over the years
Heaven on earth
my lover
a curse
an overflow of tears
when the urge isn't fulfilled

I think, therefore I will
I think, therefore I can't
resist the pleasure
in a wrapper
sweet explosion
taunting me
my mouth a crime scene

the evidence resides
my tongue
my gums
my teeth
the culprit
the chocolate
the criminal inside.

A.R. Bonner

(82 words)
Debi Swim

Fat Chance

My resistance is low
I give in too easily
put up a tepid fight,
no, no, I can?t
in a tiny, milquetoast voice.
I unsnap my waist band
unclench my fist
and wrap my fingers
around a hunk of
rich dark chocolate bliss.

(45 words)
Keith Welch

Sorry, Dear

I know that I said yesterday
That I would never go away
our love would last a million years
proof against a flood of tears
but that's, you know, before I saw
my grotesque future mom-in-law

You've said your love for me is strong
but something here is very wrong
your mom has only got one eye
the complexion of an old pork-pie
her teeth look long enough I fear
to turn a bull into a steer

Eternal love is very well
and you shall always be my belle
but your odd mother is a fright
In any but the dimmest light
I fear our marriage plans are doomed
I do not wish to be consumed.

(118 words)
James Von Hendy

Delightfully playful.

(2 words)

You're that pinch of bitter
In the sweetest of moments
The coldest of daggers
That pierce the heart, deep

You're the kind of
heartrending joy, utterly
bringing all others to shadow
That touch of danger
to the beautiful mind

You're the streak of blue certainty
In the future to come
A flash of black in the path
of the ever shining sun

And yet,
You're the one at first glance
That blinds everyone
except those who see
That you are
a resistance to Truth

(84 words)
Angie Werren


this weight of
this fog of yesterday?s

sound ?

a drip
a chirp
a click

and with a hand on the curtain life
breaks through


-- angie werren

(35 words)

PAD Haiku -
A poem a day
Throughout the month of April
Ready. Steady. Go!

I only found out about about PAD yesterday and I'm really excited about it. I know this poem doesn't fit with today's resistance theme but I like Haiku and thought it appropriate for the day. I tried to write a resistance-based one too and thought it was ok but I liked this one better.

(69 words)
Cati Porter

Lucky Penny, Face Down

What luck to have found myself here
on the bed where you left me, face
flat against the pillow, the yellow dress
akimbo on the chair as though

it were put there in a kind of pre-coital
haste. You have wanted me this way,
and yet, I have wanted only
a warm hand, soft flannel; counted

the times you have passed me on the street,
lackluster, near a grate, at your feet.
Now you?ve ?saved? me, picked me up.
I am temporary folly. How long

before I?m cast off, spent? You think
today your luck has changed: Think again.

(103 words)

Dusk At Monument Hill

Down the trail from Arthur?s Seat, rather slowly.
My bad knee pops, old ankles crack like bones snapping and now
we go up again, a cobbled mile from palace to castle.
His calves are on fire, shins aflame, so we pause for coffee.
I read the menu with glasses clamped to the end of my nose.
How easy to just sit here, but we brush crumbs from our laps,
bargain with recalcitrant muscles and balky hips to take us on
through the medieval alley, down a million steps to Cockburn
across roads, past the station, past the caf (where yesterday
a burgeoning confusion had me

get up and leave without my purse).
The day?s last climb; for leverage we push
palms against thighs and huff weak
epithets at gravity. On the bald, windy summit
a parthenon, an obelisk, random domes all rise
stark against the dying sky. They speak for people
long gone from here and all the city
lies flung like a wrinkled blanket
over the ground below. A distant boat scrawls
a fine white line on the darkening Firth of Forth.

In our bag, dram bottles of peaty whisky; here is a bench.
We toast to lights twinkling on
away against great black bluffs;
to far spires, freezing lochs, sore feet.
We toast to beautiful dusk in a place we?ve
never been before,
mysterious twilight,
and the hour is
a culmination of happy things
but not the end of them.

(246 words)
Beth Rodgers, Author

So happy to be back this year! Here's my poem for today:

Staggering forward
Unable to process
Time and space
Awaiting extradition
For procrastination
When contemplation was needed
How does one fight what creeps up?
What embeds itself in our psyches
Ensnaring our minds
Revealing our weaknesses
Yet forcing us to find strength
And persevere
Lest we stay victims to the end.

(64 words)

Too Much Resistance

I sat on the bank wide awake,
a big fish hoping to take,
my line went tight,
I pulled with might,
but the big fish stayed in the lake

(32 words)

Hair Wars
by Annie

I have always had a love
hate relationship with
my hair
A continual battle
that began somewhere
in my 12th year of life

Most days the hair
wins ? even more now
years later than I am
willing to admit

I had straight long
black hair that behaved
until the magic of
?womanhood? began

At that point my once
straight locks became
unruly, curly, frizzy,
and maddening

Of course, this all
happened when the
rule was long straight
parted down the
center to create a
curtain of hair falling
on each side of the face
silky and lively enough
for the mandatory
hair flip at just the
right time ? that hair
flip could mean so
many different things
indifference ?
disgust ?
interest in that special boy ?
the list is endless

But ?

Bush-woman hair
was impossible
to flip ? it just

All sorts of
soda can rollers?
nothing could
tame that wild mess

Adolescence ?
that period of time
we hated?

Not even crazy
hair could keep
that struggle in line

The battle still
wages ?
acceptance of the
acceptance of
the grey that
refuses to be

Purple hair I
have found is FUN
regardless of how
it chooses to

This is my Day 1 Post for the Writers Digest PAD for April Challenge. The prompt was ?resistance?.

Copyright 2015 Annie ? Original Poetry
Always?I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you Love.
As Ever, Annie


(269 words)

Title: A Love to Forget

What good is a desire if it must not be fulfilled
What good is a hope if it may not be realised
What good a touch if it cannot be a caress
What good a smile if it leads not to happiness

I quietly love, but only in my innermost heart,
And in silence die as we, each day, must part


What good is a love if it must not be expressed
What good is the truth if it's caught in a harness?

Tears and happiness, two opposing friends
That stand with me when my dreams of you I must force to end

(I really enjoyed taking part in the April PAD Challenge last year. I hope it's a lot of fun for everyone taking part this year :-) !)

(135 words)

Extra 50% Off

Though the coat was vibrant in Technicolor red,
far left of conservative black basic,
a tiny bit snug at the waist
one gold button to replace
an odd length between short and long,
it wasn?t completely wrong.

Though the coat was vibrant in Technicolor red ?
no, make that razzmatazz berry ?
it flaunted a designer label
distinguished on the clearance table.
With an extra 50% Off Today Only coupon,
how could I resist?

Lorraine Caramanna

(79 words)

Buy it! Buy it! Buy it!

(6 words)
Beverly Deirocini

Boy, have I found myself in this place too many times! Lovely.

(12 words)

Idle hands

You've got to keep busy they say.
Old hands become cold hands,
and even hot dishwater can't keep
them warm anymore,
and not even the boiling cup of coffee,
or the steaming bowl of cabbage soup,
or the layers of flannel and thermal shirts
you have to wear in the house in the summertime,
and not even the electric fireplace plugged in next to your bed.
Maybe my hands can keep your hands warm for a little while.
I hope so, as I hold your hand,
and try not to let you know I notice the cold.

(99 words)
Connie Peters

Rhino Skin

Neck prickles at red tracks
Critiquer?s gone crazy
Breathe, wait
Take another look
Not so insane
Learn and grow

(21 words)
Sasha A. Palmer

It was the last day of it.
At dawn they chased Evil out of the shadows of their minds and pierced it with rays of light.
At noon they shook out their hearts and Evil that soiled them fell hard to the ground.
At sundown they gathered their souls stained with Evil and washed them clean.
Then they burned the last remnant of Evil till there was nothing left.
Then they breathed.
No one noticed a tiny speck escape from the flames.
A smidgen of a dark thought it was.
A seed that waits.
To be planted.
To grow.

(100 words)

"Night's Lunacy"

Cold jaundiced eye
glowers at me
as it opens
above the ridge.
Stalks me at night,
I cannot sleep,
but run away
from urgent pull
that draws me in.
Incessant need
to be beneath
pale scrutiny
till the shadows
melt in morning,
cede resistance,
to rising sun.

M. Zane McClellan (Michael)
The poetry channel.WordPress.com

(56 words)

Second Hand Love
by Megan C Lucas

I have never been more scared
The way you called me and told me to sit
I couldn't breathe the sickening air
I couldn't let you make my thoughts legit

You opened up your mouth and said the things I was expecting
You took a piece of me when you said she had been there all the time

My trust in you was in my veins
I was just a piece of human who buried precious you inside of her
crying to stars and asking why
I had done what I did in a life before this to deserve this kind of love

You still flow beneath my skin
is there a way to live without you?
I reject your sickening air
I reject my thoughts about you

the way you hold me in your arms when she is not around us
I'm leaving soon so you will have to learn to hold someone else

Your name's engraved against my bones
but my skin renews itself with time
and bone is quite the same
only it will take a longer time

I'll wish on stars
and dandelion
I will not fall victim to your heart
and it's second hand love.

(207 words)


Fangs glisten
beneath a fuzzy snout

wrinkled nose to eyes
ears flat back

hackles raised
forelegs splayed

defy cruel memory
to strike

I sit cross-legged
look into the cosmos

my hand holds food
my heart holds you

ears rise
hackles, muzzle lower

soft nuzzles
push away sorrow.

~ P.A. Moffatt

(51 words)


I won't tell mother
but I reserve the right for tears to prick
and my hands to tremble as I close them into fists.

I can ignore the barbs
?sticks and stones,? she used to tell me
but she was wrong, wasn't she?

Your laughter empowers me
as the circle of your friends surround me
You can't afford to appear weak.

?little girl,? you said
but I'm only in the year below you
and I have two older sisters.

I won't use my fists.
While you watched C-Beebies after school
I read Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War.'

You told Mrs Pearson
about Mark Woolridge's shoplifting
and how Benny Alsop cheated in Science;
who wrote the swear words on the chalkboard
and why the toilets smell of cigarettes.

So no, Pete Carter
I won't give you my dinner money
but here are some boys who want to talk to you.

(151 words)
Connie Peters

You painted the scene well.

(5 words)

Sisters are NOT friends

I cannot,
will not,
must not.

I could not,
should not,
shall not,

Do not try to force me.
I mean it.
Don?t dare.

Not even if you hide
in my underwear.

Not even if you put
the tackiest tack
in my chair.

Not even if you tied
Silly String
In my hair.

Be friends with my sister?
I swear!

When I want to wrestle,
She pretends to drink tea.

When I play King of the Mountain,
She won?t climb our tree.

If I am a pirate;
She is a dancer.

If I ask about goo
slime or rocks;
She can never answer.

What good is a sister?
OK, sometimes she reads.

And sometimes she listens.

And sometimes she feeds ?

me cookies and crackers or sweet little cakes.

And maybe it isn?t so bad when she bakes.

And when she takes naps, sometimes I nap, too.
And when we make art, she lets me use all the blue.

Still, I?m a warrior. A soldier. Dude of much adventure.
Having girls ?round all the time is pure misadventure.

I?ve said it before, I?ll say it again:

Go away, little sister?
We cannot be friends!

(Um, can I have that last cookie?)

(209 words)
Beverly Deirocini

Love this one. Especially the line about the bees! ;)

(9 words)

So Easy

You think you have done all you could
You have prepared yourself for it
No more likes and no more comments
No longer following him
His notifications turned off
You don?t check your messages
And avoid, at all costs, sliding your eyes up to that innocuous poking finger

Convince yourself you won?t go online at all?
Well, perhaps, just to check your email
Maybe, watch a movie

Decide to do something productive with your life
Write, Draw, Walk, See friends, Read, Cook, Talk to your husband
Go on with your flesh-and-blood existence as if he?d never crept into your life digital by digital step
As if you had not given him a part of you never given to anyone else

But, every day, you find yourself checking and searching
Thinking that day will be the day
Hoping he will give in to his need just as you have to yours
Each new day, the vise tightening on your heart compresses it a bit more
Each new moment, the aching grows in your soul and lays claim to more of your being

There is nothing you can take to lessen the pain of not being wanted
There is nothing you can do to keep yourself from the want

by Luz Celenia De Jess

(214 words)

giving it up

burgeoning with best and brightest blessing
she gave herself
in a gesture of preparation
in a posture of gesticulation
articulating nothingandevery
thing andnothing very particular except
allofit she gave allloveit
and for him
she was simply the
piece de resistance

by gpr crane

(47 words)


flags droop
leaflets tossed aside
glued to the pavement
by the rain

scattered protesters
wrapped in scarves
reconsider futility
at a young age

(24 words)
James Von Hendy

To the point.

(3 words)

Your face is my trigger.
Each link clicked another cut
to tender skin,
numbing me, focusing my pain.
I know I shouldn't... but I can't resist
opening the wound.
You came at me out of nowhere,
before I'm girded by coffee,
smiling on my timeline,
all benign aggression.
The bile rises in my throat
as I dig deeper.
You walked away.
Why can't I?

M. Farthing 4.1.15

(68 words)

Calling by Evelyn May

I had been fighting.
Who knows for how long,
but god, I gave it a good try.

Through blistered sunsets
and chilled evening nights,
I couldn't have you.

There was a strong sense
of failure if I ever touched you.
I guess I didn't want to cave in.

You were in fact my calling,
you still are, I know it,
but I know too,

That if I were to succumb
to you, and listen to my heart,
everyone would claim

?I told you so.?

Fighting isn't an option
at this point anymore.
I'm telling the world,

you are my one.

(104 words)
Michelle Hed

how could I resist
the lure of another year ?
words tumble like rocks

(14 words)
James Von Hendy


(1 words)

How far can you stretch
a rubber band until it snaps?
There is one knotted at the base
of my spine, pulling gently,
persistently. The other end is tied
to the hills and places that I love.

I wonder when the distance,
the resistance grows
too tight, will it snap
me back into the trees,
or leave me

(59 words)

l like the first stanza.

(5 words)

This is above par.
Well done.

(6 words)

Thanks, all, for the encouragement!

(5 words)
kelly letky

the reinvention of what we can't mention

so much living out loud
these days

so much songbird singing
and restless hand wringing

so many rules to swallow and
pills to follow

and offenses taken to
deep down places

so much sleep to lose and
outrage to booze

mirrors to crack
or pick up the slack

erasures and silence
muzzle and roar

whispers to settle
behind locked door

but i say
let them stand

all those words
to be banned

all the phrases
that offer no praises

words are the drones
in the war of lost bones

our last strong shield
in the cracked force field

of tomorrow?s glinting

Kelly Letky

(111 words)

How It Begins

Gianni skyped to say ?come?.
Now I don?t know Gianni but
Apparently we are related through
Some twist of emigration.

Come he said (actually ?Allora, viene qua!?)
?There is a room for you to stay.
Much must be settled after
Her passing. It is spring! The Camellias are blooming!?

Likely a big serving of Italian drama. I try to extract more
Gianni?who passed? What needs settling?
But he is distracted signing off
Ciao bella! See you in a week!

Lovely as Gianni my probable cousin looked
(his English acceptable) long distance travel with no plan
(NO PLAN) was absurd. A week is a blink of
An eye. A grand plan cannot be hatched thus.

I looked up the name Gianni
@ 20,000 Names From Around The World.com
Italian tab: Gianni- Contracted form of Giovanni
Meaning ?God is Gracious?.

(141 words)

(An erasure based on a yad vashem personal account: "Life of Jewish Partisans and Jewish Family Camps in the Forest, From a Diary by a Jewish Partisan, 1942-1943 "

"Partisans In Brozova Forest"
by David M. Hoenig

Snow-melt pools.
Water stretches,
and our feet want to rest;
everything is wet in Brozova Forest.

In Stara-Huta, groups of lost men-
could survive the cold:
not for themselves.

After a brief rest,
a shelter of branches,
groups gathered in one place
for guard duty.

People were divided;
a group of Jews and their families
were taken from Lida Ghetto,
and stayed.

(101 words)

Wonderful use of erasure.

(4 words)

Falling Again

"Resistance is futile"
said the alien in
some dusty old
sci-fi movie
whose name
I no longer
He's right.

Resistance to love
is futile.
God knows I've
tried, but
I keep falling in love
again and again
despite evidence
that says it never
works, it always
tears my guts out
and I've divided my
earthly possessions
in half so many times
I've lost count.

Resistance is futile, but oh
how I wish I could resist
that beguiling alien force
that takes me prisoner
over and over

Jo Aylard

(93 words)

So No

I think the answer will be no
so stop
looking at me like that.
I?m tired from weighing
your merits.
So no
you probably can?t stay.
I may not even.

on the one hand
I like the unexpected
way we met.
(I hate that the unmeeting
is up to me.)
I like the way
you just lay
your burdens down,
every last one
expelled with that incredible sigh.
(Mine do the vulture circle
and come back around.)
I like the way you forgive
?sorry I can?t?
and yes
I like the way you look at me
so stop.

I can make mean waffles,
not a home.
I?m tired.
Like I said.

You are nothing
if not masculine.
You are nothing other
than not me.
You don?t frighten me,
just everything else in our path.

Our path?
Unexpected gifts
I don?t need:
not feelings,
not actual meals,
not first-person plurals,
not thick and dripping juicy promises,
not sweet

On the other hand
there is drywall dust
on the carpet
from you
breaking through my wall

I know the answer will be no
so stop
so no
you probably can?t stay.
I may not even.

-Kris Miller, 4/1/15

(203 words)

Is It Resistance

isn't nice to have a routine know where you will wake when

who you will see know where you will go what you will do

then there is a suggestion maybe try something new do you feel your heels dig in

feel you back stiffen it isn't right i don't want to do it

i have already found what works for me and you want me to do something else

well I won't not today not ever

everything is good enough as it is would you call it resistance

April 1, 2015

(103 words)
Joseph Hesch


The sticky fingertip kiss prints of jam
on the brim of his shiny whiteidentity
spurred his wide-eyed attention,
but not any old anger over someone
touching his hat. His own daddy taught him
you just don?t touch a man?s hat;
especially nota $100, two-weekoldResistol.
Everyone from Ol' Charlie Midnight
to Lyle Lovett would tell you that.
He looked beneath the strawberry-sweetened
sombrero, and his cowboy cool left him,
just as all his old rodeo chasing ways rumbled
out the gate when he first held
his now three-foot-nuthin? angel girl.
Proudly handing him his hat, she said,
?Careful now, Daddy. Come back quick, OK??
He kissed her there in the doorway,
kissed the jam off the tightly woven straw
on the way to his truck. From the window,
her mother pulled back the curtain as
he shoved her lawyer's letter inside the crown.
That's where he found the craft paper card
with a crayoned stick figure wearing
a big white cloud on its head.
Spinning up billows of ashen dust,
he couldn't resist looking at his life,
all backwards there in the mirror.

(183 words)

What beautiful imagery! I can picture it all so clearly.

(10 words)

Joe ... my friend ... long time no see ... as usual you are an amazing word crafter ... of course I loved the Lyle Lovett reference ... my Dad wore a Resistol Grey Beaver in the winter and a straw onebin the summer ... brough back wonderful memories.

Always Annie!!!

(51 words)

I love your imagery and metaphors!

(6 words)

An absolute pleasure to read your work - Exquisite!

(9 words)

This is rather splendid!

(4 words)
James Von Hendy


(1 words)
Kimmy Sophia


Yeah yeah
I know, I know.
Just knock and it will be opened.
Seek ask knock.
If I do
Will you stand me up?
Do I open myself to ridicule?
Gullible! Naive! Ignorant!
The fear before knocking
is like showing up for a blind date.
Will I be wanted
or am I the weirdo?
Hence, I resist, my knuckles raised,
yet frozen.
(Kimmy Sophia Brown)

(66 words)
Joseph Harker


where God is carved down to his bones
spelling with his ribs a thou shalt not

where freedom runs like electrical wire
fencing in, and thereby fencing out

where bodies are burning temples?
where walk is interpreted as parade?

where serpents crawl through my hair
and coals cherry red under my feet

where my husband means my accomplice
in the court of imagined crimes

where kiss and touch and movement
turn political in the language of signs

where my love is taxed at the borders
where they hang it from their crosses

where every thing has to make a point
as it passes

(104 words)

I love it!

(3 words)

I love the adventurous story of this one.

(8 words)

Great! I tried an Indiana poem the other day that isn't nearly as good.

(14 words)
James Von Hendy

Compelling, powerful, and timely, Joseph!

(5 words)

No Time to Resist...

Time extends its invitation
Rising from yon beaming brink
Renewal and expectation
Dawn Hand-painted, gold and pink

Who will dare resist its offer?
This, the day the Lord has made
Spills to earth from heaven?s coffer
Melting midnight?s palisade

We were born for this, my darling
Let the Past its vastness prey
See, the sky is full of morning
Come, before it fades away

On the harpsichord of ages
Moment-melodies untwist
Time is eager to turn pages
We have no time to resist

(87 words)

Absolutely exceptional, exquisite!

(3 words)

thank-you all!

(2 words)


He was only maybe a year older than my son
Thirteen or fourteen at best
I walked past him just like everyone
Don't look
Pretend he doesn't exist
I walked back to him
It bothered me that he was so young
Too young to be in this distress
He sat on the cold ground
His cardboard set in front
With words that i never read
Excuse me
Are you hungry
Can I get you some
What do you like best?
Anything, I'll eat anything
He politely replied
So, I went off and did my best
Healthy hamburger, drink, and small chip
Food that kids can't resist
Asked him if he knew where to get help
Mate, your too young for this
Good kid deserves to have a mum
To grow
Not just to exist

(136 words)

Hump Day

If I get through this day I?m well on my way
to a weekend of writing and rest.
My head says hooray, but my body says nay,
this lying in bed is the best.

My hand hits the light. Oh, it?s way, way too bright!
It just takes a moment to choose?.
Pulling covers up high, I cover my eyes,
and reach toward the clock - hitting ?snooze?.

(70 words)


They want to consume our voices,
as fast as you consume curly fries.
They want us to stand up for our right
to bigger and better, letting us lend our love to logos.
They want us to know what we want,
so they can serve us better, while we serve them.

don't speak too loudly,
give them what they want to hear,
don't count their gift horse teeth,
or you'll find how old they really are.
Maybe in another name,
but they've always been there,
feeding us with lies,
holograms of who we wish we were.
Try to swim upstream
and you'll be drowned,
or so they would have us think.
If we listened to the murmurs,
the underground springs of truth,
we would have a river on our hands.

I'm so excited to be participating in this challenge for the second time! My blog is nightowlroots.tumblr.com

(149 words)


I didn?t notice
the gray hairs
staging a resistance
on my scalp
until after
you died.

There they are?
white lightening
amongst the dirty
blonde strands
of my youth.

I got older
without realizing it
my life spent
being a little girl
grappling at your skirts
for a word
of encouragement;

for a sign
that I amounted
to more than
a collection
of cells fighting
an endless war.

I was never much
of a rebel, my guns
filled with truth
cold and quiet;
your hand a dictator
over my heart.

Aleathia Drehmer 2015

April 1, 2015

(98 words)

This is a beautiful poem and a beautiful tribute, Aleathia. Thank you so much for sharing with us.

(18 words)


I got older
without realizing it
my life spent
being a little girl
grappling at your skirts
for a word
of encouragement"

(24 words)

Ode to Procrastination

These words of prose and rhyme are just not right
I cannot picture turning these words in
I?ll take another look at these tonight -
Deadlines be damned! I think I?ll hit the gym!

I walked the dog around the block today
He made me walk as fast as I am worth!
For fear of Charley Horses, I?ll delay,
Spring?s almost here - I could just dig some earth!

It?s really not as warm as I had thought
Those clouds look like they might cover the sun
On my poor seeds, what would a freeze have wrought?
Another warmer day, I?ll get this done.

For thwarting change and knowing what to blame,
My fate, and weight, and world will stay the same.

(125 words)
Pepe Batbon

cool sonnet on it.

(4 words)

Resistance Is Not

futile, dynamic, a shared cigarette;
more romantic
than filing, or canned pork and beans;
the rock,
but the window;
the fist,
but the chin.

___Barbara E. Young

(30 words)


Her hands tremble when
he gets home from work
war is hell in a place of peace
like a house with walls
decorated in family photos;
she stayed for them
at least that?s what she told herself
but the images are blurry now
kids grow up.

The silky lather of dish soap
melts into her skin
she stands at the farmhouse sink
staring into the evening gray
while her mind tosses around
his complaints about dinner
how it tasted burnt
how there wasn?t enough salt
she grips the plate tighter
and the fine China, the set
with a bluebonnet border
that her grandmother gave her
for their wedding
offers little resistance
cracking under the pressure.

Daniel Roessler

(119 words)

whoa! powerful.

(2 words)
Daniel Paicopulos

if anyone asks about how poetry is different from prose, I will show them this poem

(16 words)

Good images, such as
"The silky lather of dish soap
melts into her skin."

(14 words)
Alfred Booth

Beautiful, poignant.

(2 words)
James Von Hendy

Excellent, as always Daniel, a lovely start to the month. Poignant and powerful.

(13 words)
Pepe Batbon

great, profound , the poem and the plate.

(8 words)
Linda Voit

There is something particularly poignant about this detail of the bluebonnet border and it being a gift from her grandmother.

(20 words)

The tug of war ceased
Stopped dragging her through the mud
When she dropped the rope

Jenn Ryan-Jauregui

(18 words)
Linda Voit

After They Died, There Were Moments

I knew I could push the world back on its axis
with the sheer weight and force of my grief,
send every living soul on earth back to God
knows what just so I could sit with them
over coffee, hear their laughs ask them
one more question.

It?s not unlike that mad flash in labor when,
regardless of the evidence, we know we will not
actually go on giving birth. Some women
even say it out loud.
But we look back at that moment
and laugh.

Linda Voit

(95 words)

Very Powerful!

(2 words)
Daniel Paicopulos

beautifully said, wonderfully constructed

(4 words)

"I knew I could push the world back on its axis
with the sheer weight and force of my grief,"


(21 words)
James Von Hendy

Strong imagery, powerful poem.

(4 words)

Leaving home

Her shelter betrayed
Concrete steps and titanium hips

after widowhood and children
alone in the bones

into assisted care facility
she hoped someday
she?d be able to return

It?s her house after all
bought and paid for
but those steps like
sleeping dragons wait

perhaps her son is right
maybe it?s time to
let it go

(58 words)

Sad poem.

Like these lines: "Her shelter betrayed
Concrete steps and titanium hips"

(13 words)
Pepe Batbon

you got it down, thanks for letting it go

(9 words)

The tug of war ceased
Stopped dragging her through the mud
When she dropped the rope

By Jenn Ryan-Jauregui

(19 words)


"Let not your freedom be an distraction to the vulnerable." St. Paul (1Cor8:9)

Morning freedom of religion
(meditation, confession, confidence)
dissolves like sugar in coffee too bitter
to sweeten as I listen to commuter radio.

The righteous on every side seem wrong.
The rational seem soulless.
the soulful irrational.
God deniers cry justice.
God lovers cry judgement.

And I cry on my way to Jerusalem
for its impossible to resist
the freedom of Saint Paul.

(76 words)
Nancy Posey

(Hooray! It's April!)

Path of Least Resistance

Enough of the straight and narrow way for me.
Today I?m skipping down the primrose path,
letting conflict roll off me like water,
Whatever, my mantra.

I?ve had enough of the bonsai tree life,
pruned and pinned against the wall.
I want to spread out like kudzu,
creeping boldly over vines and trees,
abandoned houses, cars left by the roadside.

Try to hide me in the darkened cellar
and I?ll turn my face toward chinks of light,
slipping around corners, not butting my head
through walls. Changing direction suits me
just fine. For now, the fight?s gone out of me.

(107 words)


(1 words)

I love, spread out like kudzu. What a fantastic image!

(10 words)

Wonderful images sprinkled throughout this poem!

(6 words)
Daniel Paicopulos

I always look for yours, wondering what you will bring to the table, and then you plop it down and I just lap it up

(25 words)

Nice poem and images/metahpors, I like the lines about bonsai tree and kudzu, had to look up the latter.

(19 words)
James Von Hendy

Excellent imagery and metaphor, Nancy. Another lovely start to April.

(10 words)

Lost Cause

The charge breaks the wall.
We strain to hold the fortress.
All hope seems lost now.

(18 words)


For a thousand years it stood
on the mountainside there

Sacred pillars twined with
holy earth
a consecrated tomb
benedicere the saint
surrounded by his works
of paper and stone
seemed sure to rest
in silent vigil
for a thousand years

or less
for then they came
with four-legged spiders
emblazoned triumphant
and a death call

Artistic words belying
greedy hearts
golden eyes reflecting
from within

their refuge could
not be refused
even as the columns
cracked in protest
under the assault
of fire from on high
final sighs hissed
out in la lingua italian
as the Reichmen
grimly grimaced
from the hillside below

as the jubilant propagandists
toted their daily quota of lies
the ruined splendor
of the mount
smoldered and burned
but never surrendered

in the days of peace to follow
it would rise

monumental in defiance
defiant to destruction
constructed to withstand a
thousand years more

(156 words)

Well written, Mschied. Game on!

(5 words)

Somewhere there?s a fly

They will tell you no.
No will be your daily pill to keep
those attacks of yours controlled,
and your hands incapable of shaking.
My dear, you?ll be forced into
the brickwork with a tie and a smile,
and the pretty wall will be
just a little more perfect with you.

That thing that tingles in the backside of your brain,
that little buzz that reminds you of your
constantly messed up circuit boards,
you?ll be told to hide it;
God help you if you don?t hide it.
Let your acid tears melt the bed sheets,
let the hurricanes inside you smash your bedroom,
be the beast that ate the beauty in the shadows.
But do not disturb the people out there.
They are all like you,
But, outside their walls,
they are all like them.

Remember that one first time when you
finally killed that one first fly that was driving you mad?
(sorry for the sudden change of topic, really)
It felt damn good, didn't it?
You were the god for whom you hold
ancient bitterness, and you felt powerful, when
you murdered that son of a bitch.
There were no bad karmatic consequences,
you deserved that murder, and you got your rightful peace.
You also probably felt scared and confused
of just how crazy and evil you were;
or perhaps you felt nothing,
There was no sentiment, and maybe that?s even scarier.
Truth be told,
everyone already felt that special madness,
they just don?t like to talk about it in the wall.

You?re not a piece of evaluation paper,
nor another pair of shoes in a crowd,
nor a name in a list of other names.
You?re not like them.
None of them are like them.
You?re the sunlight of the moonless night,
the storms and rains of the summer days,
the dirty street dog that howls too loud in the avenue.
Madness isn?t something romantic or beautiful,
it?s not an excuse or an interesting personal fact.
But it is a right.

Kill the fly.
Kill the fly, and let them all hear your cries and hurricanes,
emerge from the dark and bring a bit of it to the sun,
show them what it is to be the truth inside us.
Show them how to break the wall, for maybe they are
waiting to find out the landscape behind it.
So, find the most crowed street and,
without poetics or romantics or dramatics,
Face the wall,
and scream,
just scream:

'Fuck them.'

(419 words)
AC Leming

Here's to April 1st, Fool's Dah indeed!

My Mind

Your, "Don't think too much, just enjoy,"
just plain confused me more.
What are you, this Nordic godling,
just what the hell are you doing
messing with me,
a decade older and separated too boot?

And I now know what they mean
when they speak of an out of body
moment, only this one lasted hours.
We tried not to get rug burns
as we reverted to Jr High.
Our lips, the only body parts
which didn't touch at all.
That intimacy
you wouldn't give me,
though you about gave me everything else.
Kissing crossed a line when nothing else did.

And I couldn't get out of my head,
tried to dissect your intent as soft lips
kissed my breast, still partially covered
in red lace. My hands followed instinct,
never stopped caressing bare
shoulders, back, hips.
And still, my my resisted
what you said we both wanted.

(157 words)
AC Leming

Dang it, last two lines should read:

And still, my mind resisted
what you said we both wanted.

(18 words)

Getting the Story

In your office you contemplate
the perfect apple exhorted from
your wife, watch all five TVs with
critical attention. You pick up the
phone in irritation, set it down,
missing the cradle. Molded plastic
echoes. Your office looks onto the
parking lot. You watch your staff
walk to their cars. You advise me
to agree with you. Your female
staff must get dressed in the dark.
Nobody looks good walking away.
You beetle once-dark brows that
meet in the middle, incredulous short
hairs. You can't find fault with
my pin-striped pant suit, although
you would if you could. I'm sure
there's lint, or an action plan he'll
deem irredeemable, a bald spot
at the back of my head I might
have missed in the mirror. Could we
have a sense of urgency here? I didn't
mean to not sign your mission plan.
Or perhaps I did, walking stiff-backed
to my car without looking back.

(157 words)
Mike Spinney

Good Words on a Page

When I was a young man John told me
A writer?s greatest asset is

That good words on a page are far better
Than great words in my head

In a prison of doubt and fear and reasons
Strong enough to resist

(50 words)
Margot Suydam

Homage to You

Lost mother who lived well
on the rim of experienced

pain and passionate exchange
always took the extra steps

off tall promontories ready
to descend below the lowest

shelf, on trajectories that left
no way to return, no way out

but to remain silent as you
were. Yet I want to cry out:

Homage to us, the remnants
of a tender yet stilted touch

of midnight lapsing into madness.
Your crippled mind often wandered

far flung from the usual whispers
crept up back alleys with gifts

we still carry. Thus, we are flying
with you, transporting your defiance,

already cast in the hardening clay
of our harrowing life in barren places

where crisp sinews of thought crack.

(120 words)

Picket fence ?
White boards
train heading south.

~ Amy Cygan
(Hopefully, the formatting sticks; "train" should be indented far enough into the line so as to follow on the heels of "boards.")

Good luck everyone! I am really enjoying reading everyone's poetry. :)

(43 words)

Wilde Words

"I can resist everything except temptation"
Wise words the Wilde man said
For the cultured man understood
The animal
That lives in every head

(26 words)

I really enjoyed this!

(4 words)

succinct, with more meaning in every read....

(7 words)
James Von Hendy

Fun and to the point.

(5 words)

Stand Up and Walk
"Then Peter said, Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk." Acts 3:6

I have no sliver; I have no gold,
But what I have to give is worth so much more.
Stand up, I say, stand up today;
Stand up and walk for what you believe in.
We'll be surrounded
I can hear them marching
Coming for us for what we believed in,
But stand up, I say, stand up today;
Stand up and walk for what you believe in.
The battle will be repeated, but in the end
We will not be defeated.
Stand up and walk for what you believe in.
They will hang us upside down;
They will fill our bodies with deceive and disease
Stand up, I say, stand up today
Stand up and walk for what you believe in.
The battle will be extreme
But we will succeed,
We will not admit defeat.
Stand up and walk for what you believe in.

(180 words)
RJ Clarken

Four External Powers

?Weight, force and casual impulse, together with resistance, are the four external powers in which all the visible actions of mortals have their being and their end.? ~Leonardo da Vinci

the weight of the world
when resting on one?s shoulders
is relative to

force of perception?
optimists and pessimists
alike see life as

casual impulse:
in reality

resistance combines
with the other three to make
one complete human



(74 words)

So true!

(2 words)

Love this. Leonardo would have approved.

(6 words)
James Von Hendy


(1 words)

In the Now
I have swallowed bitter pills
disappointment and let downs.
Washed down with the caustic
bile of failure.
I raised my face to the empty sky,
raged at my own creation,
wept in exhausted surrender,
no choice but to accept.
Though I may feel alone,
I am not isolated.
If only in my despair,
I am connected with others,
like it or not.
I feel you, where you used to be,
a memory obscured by time,
Anchored in tomorrow,
resisting the insistence of today.
Tomorrow never arrives ?
When I wake - when I awaken,
I find only now, only today,
like it or not
we are here

M. Zane McClellan (Michael)

(118 words)
Pepe Batbon

existential angst, much thanks

(4 words)
Melissa Hager

"Like A Child"

"Come to me as a child."
Grandparents were busted down,
had to be fed, bathed, diapered.
Great-grandfather strong
almost to the end, until revived
at age 94 after a heart attack.
Suffered years 95 and 96, walked
naked in nursing home hallway,
drooled, cried at the drop of a hat.
Could have gone quickly, peacefully,
but instead was relegated to a mind
not so quick. Could it be his proud
self had to suffer to be saved?
"Come to me as a child."
Want to go play in a sandbox?

(93 words)

This strikes home in so many ways. It calls to mind great old ships, which should be sunk whole, not taken to the breakers.

(24 words)
Nancy Posey

Mel, this reminds me of a story I need to tell you sometime!

(13 words)

Oh, Melissa. This brings to mind several people I've lost in the last few years. Whatever happened to dignity? Bravo.

(20 words)
James Von Hendy


(1 words)


(1 words)
Melissa Hager

Thank you for your comments, folks. Nancy, you will have to tell me your story at Poetry Hickory or Women of Spirit!

(22 words)

Planned Resistance

He was a sword naked, unsheathed,
swaggered and begging
for a battle to conquer.
This tavern was his scabbard walk,
and he knew that woman

respectfully sat by the corner
would show due restraint.
She was his to be bed-rid;
they played this same game
every 3rd Friday of the month.

(c) Misky Braendeholm

(56 words)
Pepe Batbon

I want to hear more of their game

(8 words)

He wanted to love me.

he wanted to love me
like a babe and his blanket or a soft stuffed puppy dog
so loved by our child
He wanted to care
but couldn't remember my name
and I wanted to hold him
but I wanted the rain
we resist the pull and the chains
that connect and
sever the thread cut by the fates.

(64 words)


To wit:
a heart lit light
bids the lips bend in smiles,
but countenance and gravity

William Preston

(20 words)

Nicely done, William.

(3 words)

Gorgeous as always, William. So glad to see you participating again.

(11 words)

Love it!

(2 words)

Outstanding as always!

(3 words)
James Von Hendy

Lovely William, thanks for this.

(5 words)

I like the feeling of "a heart lit light." My smile resisted gravity.

(13 words)

The Speed Force

Running faster than the speed of light,
Yet something isn?t right.
It?s holding me back,
From pushing me further,
Than I?ve ever gone before.

Too long I?ve been afraid of?
Something restricting me,
From within.
This indescribable feeling,
Friction caused by two opposing forces.
Now I know this kind of thinking,
Causes me anxiety,
But my priority is to run.

Run faster than the speed of light.
Yet something,
Someone is chasing me into the night.
This is not ?fright night? now.
I?m caught in the lime light now.
People peering into my private life now.
Praise is their pre-dispositional reaction as I flash by.

Try as I might,
The speed force drags me back,
I fall flat on my face.
But I don?t want to disgrace this place,
For this city is my home that I roam around in,
These empty street corners.
This is my victory day.
So I get back on track,
With swift kinetic feet,
With a brand new beat,
Start sprinting to the finish line.

I?m on a roll now,
All the way to the top,
Travelling velocity unknown,
Something?s gonna pop.

Finally, I can breathe.
I?m done. I won.
So to those who would just leave,
Abandon all hope of believing in the impossible.
Just try to keep up.
Seeing is believing,
And I?ll be back in a flash.

(230 words)


The moon's pull
drags the sand
from underfoot

the magnet twists
in your hand
to align itself

she also feels the pull,
the drag, the need
to twist and turn

not to resist
but in compliance
with the law.

Alison Williams

(42 words)

I love this. The short lines call to mind a force field.

(12 words)

Love this!
~ Michael

(4 words)
Pepe Batbon

brilliant, succinct and brilliant

(4 words)

by A.R. Amore

All I asked was if there was another way.
A way to salvage without further loss.
?Maybe," I interrupted, ?if we redistribute??
Actually the word never came out.
?What are we?, asked the CFO, ?Socialists??
?No,? I replied.
He nodded, waving, amputating my thought
with his laser pointer
?Good then; we are agreed.?
PowerPoint carts, tables and graphs
slid by seeming to depict a sinking vessel
or the broken back of a suspension bridge

Around the conference table everyone
wore one of two faces
you remember
from gym class
when the last
boy (or girl) stood
unpicked for
dodgeball, basket ball, badminton
One the smug smirk reaffirming the social order;
the other soft and compassionate
silently condemning the
injustice within the selection process of inclusion.
I sat, daydreaming pretending
reminding myself that I was no longer
standing on the blacktop
in 5th grade staring
at the white rubber toes
of my Chuck Taylor?s
resisting the urge to cry.

(162 words)
AC Leming

Huh, don't miss corporate life at all! Brought me right back

(11 words)
James Von Hendy

Yep, some things don't change in the boardroom, do they? Well told.

(12 words)

Resisting mother(hood)

How hard to bear!
This cacophony
Inside your mind.

The whir and the clank
Of the pendulum.

The papery whisper
Of my shrivelling ovaries.

How much harder,
To live your life
To stave off another's regret.

(38 words)

strong images

(2 words)
James Von Hendy

Packs a punch, this does.

(5 words)

Resistance to helping others
What If

I saw you struggle today
Coffee and bag, trying to open the door
I slowed my pace
Not wanting to communicate
Choosing not to help
What if I had
Would you have made it to your interview
Without a coffee stain on your shirt

I heard your frustration today
In the store, with your crying child
I looked the other way, pretended not to see
When you dropped your bag
Choosing not to help
What if I had
Would it have helped you see
You weren?t alone

I saw you standing alone at the party
Not knowing anyone, feeling awkward
I did not approach you
Say hello, and start a conversation
Choosing not to help
Ease your discomfort
What if I had
Would I have discovered a new friendship
One that lasts a lifetime

Today I sat alone and cried
Just needing someone to reach out
But they all passed me by
Choosing not to help
What if they had
Would it have given me hope
Eased my pain
Helped me see I wasn?t alone
What if

(183 words)

Wow. This one hits home, hard.

(6 words)

Lovely Vingnettes. Something very relatable. Thank you.
~ Michael

(9 words)

Thought provoking. Don't we all have those moments, when we wonder if we should have done something - or more? Good job.

(22 words)
James Von Hendy


(1 words)

the sun would not get
up today staying tucked up
Beneath gray blankets

(13 words)


(1 words)

Cookie Lies

It lies in wait
Yes "lies" tis true
That cookie high above
Calling to you
"Come!" it whispers
"Come" it does shout
They'll never know
They're not about
And you waver standing there
Hand upon the runged back chair
Sun just rising - true mother might never learn
She sleeps with a soft smile as you teeter-turn
Father on his back arm about her flung in slumber tight
They sleep gentle trusting you, their son,to do what's right

(80 words)

You're rolling!

(2 words)

Just great. I felt guilty reading this. As if it were my hand in that jar. Great poem.
~ Michael

(20 words)
James Von Hendy

Wonderful, Pearl!

(2 words)
Linda Voit

Nice! Cookies, especially Girl Scout thin mints still call me!

(10 words)

Staying Away

When I catch sight of you
I dare not let the breath
trapped in my throat
lest my longing fill
your senses

I dare not let my hands
reach out to touch you
lest my heat scorch
your skin

I dare not let my gaze
linger on your face
lest my hunger devour you

I stay a safe distance away
from you
to keep you safe
from me

Uma Venkatraman

(73 words)

Resistance is futile

In the reunion photo
I see everything everyone
I struggled to flee in my youth

my aunt, the only one left
of the Thomas brood,
holding a child, I don't know whose,

my brother I rarely see
since Mama died,
cousins I sat on the front steps

of Granny's house with
now big breasted widows with
great grandsons.

What was it I feared I would
become if I didn't leave didn't resist
what is in my blood in my bones?

In the reunion photo I see
myself, smiling just like everyone else.
Family is a powerful force.

(100 words)

Wow, this poem not only shows, it moves.

(8 words)

The Good Girl

it percolates -small
discrete bubbles
bouncing from toes
to eyes locked on
lips closing in -
it percolates - tickling
tantalization straining
with each fizzing corpuscled
yes to form tongue, toothed
voice into a rounded - "No."


Hi to all ... lovely to see you - Happy Poeming <3

(52 words)

Aah! I really enjoyed reading this aloud. The alliteration and rhyming scheme just falls meticulously off of the tongue. Brilliant job, PKP! Best of luck to you for tomorrow's prompt!

(30 words)


(1 words)
James Von Hendy

Another lovely one, Pearl! Loved the way this "formed"!

(9 words)
Pepe Batbon

strange brew/ in small sips sounds good/ on the lips

(10 words)
Pepe Batbon


Ohm?s Law is losing power nationwide
D.C. seems doomed and determined
to resist Ohm?s Law and much more
rejecting potential differences with false pride
and resistance of those on its email lists
in each of its respective state?s homes
judicial circuits and elective districts
nationwide power outages loom
short circuits, brown outs a daily event
caused by D.C.?s resistant body politic
continue daily to the detriment
of our collective Body Electric
Oh give me an Ohm to roam on the range
with a D.C. divided in cyber space strange

Pepe Batbon, 04/01/2015 8:46 PM

(97 words)


Seems like such a long time
since she stopped drinking wine.
It was hard, she admits,
and she could not resist
just one "medicinal"
but unforgivable
bottle when she felt low.
But it's not long to go
when she can drink again.
Amen to that. Amen!

(47 words)
Pepe Batbon

hope she gets a long term loan lent afterward

(9 words)


When you are angry,
your voice is a volley of stones
rattling against my resistance
which rebounds from your wall of will
denying my existence.

But when you are loving
your voice is like honey,
music to my need,
resonating the conscience money
of your attention.

Viv Blake

(49 words)


(1 words)
James Von Hendy

Love the contrast!

(3 words)


Fending off my love
for poeming in April

(10 words)


(1 words)


These unremarkable days and nights
metamorphose the awareness I inhabit,
in spite of my unchanging ways.
One day ends unlike any other, though routine
rules this day, like the last, and those before.
Like the monarch, waking, eating, moving about,
one place of repose is not far from my last.
Yet, I advance, as if a breeze at my back
is a gentle hand urging me onward.
I learn. I grow. I am new each day,
in spite of staying the same path.

by Cynthia Page

(88 words)

Very nice poem, Cynthia.

(4 words)

The Agreement
by Don I.

The father's fangs were out.
Poison dripped off them,
ready to bite into a son or wife.
He was ready to indict their lives,
to ask, ?Why didn't you do this??
to say, ?Answer me, answer me now!?
But the oldest son, shaking, said, ?No.?
And his brother said, standing weakly, ?No.?
And his other brother, ?No,? too.
They all looked at their mother,
who was crying, tears drawing down
her cheeks, shivering in the warmth.
?No,? she said.
Now all they had to do was watch him
turn back into a man.

(98 words)

Quite visceral for me. Definitely a fine poem.
~ Michael

(10 words)

"These Many Windows"

My failure to close
these many windows

On the wide, wide world
Leaves my mind a-twirl.

What fears do I face?
What dreams do I chase?

Nice Canadians
My circadian

Amazon, of course
Our rates of divorce

Elspeth McLean?s art
My calorie chart

Book of Ephesians
Also Galatians

Online Sketchbook Skool
Time in Istanbul?

Baby crib bedding
The flu is spreading

Where are my taxes?
Wanes versus waxes?

Madonna?s close call
Adobe install.

So many places to go,
So much knowing to know!

How could I possibly close
These many windows?

(94 words)

I love this, especially the Perelman-like "Wanes versus waxes."

(9 words)

Resisting words

The people tell me what to do
About the work of motherhood
They think is what I want to do
But I do not, life is my own hood
I wear it proud, with no regret
It?s filled with lessons, much to get

Resisting all the words is my create
The days I wish to live as long as had
Even if it?s a rebel to all I could have
Ideas, works, experience the pain
Of lost in love, but precious remains
Hardships made their travel along the way

Resisting everything is for my pray
The treasure of my child?s smile is great pay
For my own success in person?s field
And saving my individual face
Despite the storms of daily flags
I am a loving mother with no lacks

(132 words)
Alfred Booth

As always, my titles are at the end.

I fall into step
singing silently
Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy
Bette Midler version
I'm insolent whispering
her words under my breath
like in lunch line
at military high school
when they screamed silence
yeah they know me
and didn't change my love
I won't be goin' into no
Indiana restaurant
I never did lisp
and my six-foot plus-sized frame
makes anybody think twice
bunch of God fearing Hoosiers
anyway, what're they gonna do
with me, some other gym jocks
and a few picket signs
those people are the eye sore
my Jesus loves me just fine
I pray to him every night
good Mexican boys
so damned hard to find

didn't do no good

(123 words)

Wow. This has an authentic sound, to my ear.

(9 words)

Love it!

(2 words)
James Von Hendy

Yeah, grrrr!

(2 words)

I Want to Play

Sitting still
I stare into space
So much to do
For me and you

Not today
I want to say
Leave me alone
So I can play

Play what I no longer know
What to do or where to go
Escapes my thoughts
All I know is I have had enough

Tired weary
Almost teary
Not another day of this
Looking for the hidden bliss

Not today
I want to say
Leave me alone
I want to play

(83 words)

Resistance is Fruitless

by Arash E.

Pregnant apricots hang low,
golden drops of heavenly sweet.
Careful! Some have fallen
flat against the concrete,
flowered around the pit,
slippery mines under feet,
too late you're part of it:
resistance is fruitless.

(40 words)

Love the images.

(3 words)

The opening words and end line are gorgeous bookends. Made me smile, it did.

(14 words)

The opening line sets the stage for this poem wonderfully.

(10 words)

ReathaThomasOakley, PressOn, and DanielR, thank you very much. :)

(8 words)

Resisting Change

There is a tension
Going ?home? to a home forgotten
Returning back ?home?
To an adopted land

Things are the same
And different
And the same again
Layers of years

Tree rings of streets
Addresses and buildings
Newness and preserved

Resistance to
What is changed
And to what

(52 words)

Brilliant! I just loved the imagery that you evoked. Especially the last few lines, "Resistance to what is changed and to what remains." Gorgeous! It seems like you're an experienced writer, how long have you poemed for? Good luck with tomorrow's prompt!

(42 words)

Really enjoyed the alternating dynamic of this poem.

(8 words)
Jenifer Tull-Gauger

by Jenifer Tull-Gauger

?To grandma?s we will go. Let?s get you dressed, my sweet.?
The toddler holds on tight, ?These plaid pants it will be.?

?Those pants don?t match your shirt; we?ll find a better pair.?
He holds the waistband still, his face red as his hair.

?No way, these pants are mine!? The toddler won?t let go.
His mommy pulls the legs. They put on quite a show.

Mom, with a fashion sense, wants his grandma impressed.
Son, with independence, just likes the way he?s dressed.

The tug-of-war goes on, until the mom gives in.
When grandma sees his clothes, she, smiling, praises him.

(106 words)

Oooh I almost missed the beauty of this simple poem! So very nice !

(14 words)

Awesome poem !

(3 words)

Resisting the urge
won't work.
No day can be blank.

Challenge has been made
new poems
each day must be shared.

But I missed Day One
I'll slip
one in for the day.

Hoping you will
see that
I resisted not.

(41 words)

A Twitter Erasure

Ferguson unarmed
Shot him 10 times
Canfield Green
Now that they?ve voted
Mob reaction
Outrage on social media.

You could also use the word community.
100 police cars
Basically martial law.
MURDERED, by the police
I have no words.

Black. Lives. Matter.
We have to keep reminding mofos.
The power of social media
Hands Up
But the law is never at fault.
They used soap to clean blood from the street.
Rose pedals in the spot
Rest in Peace.

Someone please remind me what year it is again?
Police dogs snarl at a crowd of mourners
Another vigil tonight
QuickTrip?now burning
DOJ to conduct an independent investigation
Where IS Jay Nixon?

Nov. 24, 2014
Getting the masks ready?
The Grand Jury decision
The National Guard
Police in riot gear
Shots fired.
Crowd runs.
Rocks being hurled

Tear gas over Ferguson
Eyes burning
Freedom and the first amendment
This is America.
Seasons Greetings!

Police car on fire
I don?t have words.
Our city is burning.
This is what they wanted?
Walgreens on fire
Beauty Town on fire.
Little Caesars? in flames.
Sounds of glass breaking.

It?s bad.
This is crazy?
The police have brought in dogs
Gas station on fire
I didn?t see any National Guardsmen
No firefighters in sight
This is not ok.

If you can?t say Amen, say ouch.
White protards
# Race together!
A rallying cry.
Here?s to less ignorance tomorrow.
I Heart Ferguson.

(255 words)

Lean into Resistance

Resistance to stigma
Resistance to the seemingly impossible
Resistance to lowered expectations
Resistance to stereotypes

I resist you
You resist me
This struggle has only taught me how to lean into resistance

Resistance makes me stronger
Resistance opens doors

Resistance gives me an enduring pride
To try harder
Just to prove you wrong

I have learned to follow that resistance
In order to be strong
To be the one people lean on
The one to guide
The one to teach
The one who can reach the unreachable

Resistance to stigma
Resistance to the seemingly impossible
Resistance to lowered expectations
Resistance to stereotypes

My resistance taught me much
It taught me how to fight
Your resistance taught me to push harder
Leaning into resistance led to openings
Led to goals
Led to greater success than anyone imagined

Leaning into resistance is crucial
Leaning into resistance is powerful
Leaning into resistance leads to strength and openness
Never forget to lean into resistance

-Deborah B. G. Kelly

(167 words)

Arctic cold resists warmth
April first, snow, no!
Anyone ready for summer
Awesome green in my yard and garden
Another sign
Anyone else doing no snow dances?
Awesome beauty in nature.

(32 words)

Oh, yes, you've captured that instigator's mood nicely! I especially like: "I?ll spin my words from straw
straight off a broken camel?s back."

(23 words)
Austin Hill

Day 1 prompt: Resistance poem

Like a mirror,
on the still water lies absolute perfection,
reflected splendor,
a picture of all I see on the other side.

dramatically disconcerting...calmly confusing
detailed doppelgangers of flora, fauna, fowl, brick and mortar
Which one is real?

Bread crumbs in hand, I resist the toss
that would that would disturb this tranquil moment.

April 20 2015 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

(65 words)



(28 words)
Catherine Conley

Age Resistance

We live in a world of youth
All wanting to be older,
And the elders
All wanting to be younger.
Little girls correct their moms,
?I?m ten and a half.?
Beauty creams cry,
?Age defying.?
Society has become resistant
To age-any age:
Young or old,
We wish to be other
Than what we are.
Like caterpillars looking at the sky
And butterflies pecking at the ground,
We resist the reality of what
We are now.


(78 words)
Sarah Metzler

Do Not Dog Your Dog

The day you finally
Sit down to write

Is the day
You will stop

Wondering why your dog
Will not stop


Before she finds a place
Good enough

Just lay down!

_Sarah Metzler

(40 words)
Sarah Metzler

Dogs walk on a leash
Do not try this with your cat
It will be a drag

_Sarah Metzler

(19 words)

The Ferryman

I stare into the great and dark abyss
and think about the world I might just miss
big bang, one God or hell, or just clich
fight for the last breath stay strong and I?ll play

contemptible as I am i?ll Kick and scream
the mind is solid this could be a Dream
the light or darkness whichever arrive
I will not go to it the strong survive

I shall not command this heart to stop
Imploring you do not wait till I drop
hey you, Shock the rhythm back to my heart,
grab that thing, you call a crash cart

breathe, I order my lungs, I?m not done,
just wanted, to have fun,
fight for the last breath, stay strong, and I?ll pay
keep Charon?s obol,

(134 words)

Resistance Is Futile

Force opposing force.
Conflict between body and mind.
Heart breaking and aching
For the damage dementia
brings into our lives.

Shared memories are gone.
A daily struggle to remember times past.
Even those from yesterday.
Opposing memories sparking
Disagreement and hurt feelings.

We refuse to give in to this disease
But I know it will only keep getting worse.
When will he no longer know who I am?
When will he no longer withstand the
Daily damage to his brain?

He doesn?t knowingly repress thoughts
Or memories or even words.
I yearn for the times we said,
?Do you remember when ??
And he would answer, ?yes.?

Now he battles to express himself
As words elude his utterance.
He speaks less and less
To avoid the embarrassment
Of not being able to find words for his thoughts.

I see his thoughts jumble and tumble
Refusing to crash the barrier
Created by this vile disease.
A disease without cure or slowing
Agents to allow us more time.

I now fully understand ?resistance is futile.?

(176 words)
De Jackson

This is just beautiful, Aleathia.

(5 words)
De Jackson

A procrastination sonnet? Ohhhh. Yes, please. I am a Pro Crastinator, myself. :)

(12 words)
De Jackson

Powerful, Daniel. So well done.

(5 words)

To Believe

What is isn?t,
What isn?t is,
How do you know?
The truth?

What stays goes?
What goes stays?
I cannot discern
What I should believe.

I want this,
I don?t want that,
How do I feel?
I don?t really care to say.

Believe you, me,
When I figure it out,
You will be the second
To know.

By Trish Jackson

(62 words)

A cat is not a dog.
It does not sit
except when it wants
and where.
No fetch unless
it spies a mouse,
an offering unasked
in your lap.
Not on your life
unless to
stick its leg
up in the air
just when you snap
the camera lens.
But then again
no walking
in the snow and rain.
A cat just goes
but only if the box is clean.
A cat is a self-cleaning machine.
No, a dog is definitely not a cat.
Some say thank goodness for that.
Agree or not.
Either way
what you do
it?s up to you.

Carolyn Donnell

(105 words)


Flesh of pig
bone-marrow of bird
but not fiery goat-peppered
fried grunt fish on Good Friday

Until Easter Sunday
when honeyed-ham
and turkey thigh
temper the burning hunger

Resist stories of betrayal
of baseless blackened names
but not ones of goddesses
on holy Good Friday

Until Easter Monday
when the waters of spring
in the sea and the air
suffuse us with knowing
the dark crucible of rebirth

- Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming

(72 words)
Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)

Robert Lee Brewer


if i say no
i mean yes

if i pull away
it's so i'll snap right back

i can resist
but i can't

on a city street
in a memory

i'm not in love
but how can i trust

if i say no
i mean yes

i turned my head away
but i never left


(58 words)


Chemistry of Fear
By Brittany M.

Fear is the strongest whip,
It keeps down the weak and brave,
It bends the mind into half itself,
It attacks the sane and insane.

The chemistry of fear
Brings forth stress filled prisons,
Chains made from neurotransmitters,
Dopamine and norepinephrine.

I know these pathways electric,
I know them well and intimate,
How they transform into paralysis
And morph into impossible labyrinths.

It defines our barriers and boundaries,
Makes us feel safe, but with wanting.
And our dreams our only timid resistance
Against our unfulfilled desires and longings.

Our dreams become motions cerebral
A shadow resistance of fear;
Become what you ever wanted, but
Nothing real changes year after year.

Only in action with real blood and bone
Can we truly conquer the mountains
Of fear; break those hidden chemical bonds.

And in our victory, we will send out
Our molecules, those trembling atoms,
And with them embrace the vibration
Of the great terrible unknown;
This is the only true resistance.

(167 words)

The game
By Amber D. Meyer

I offered opposition to the king
He replied with a kind attack

I threw my ace into the ring
The king rolled down like Jack

I thought the game was won
I rose victorious to sing

But then my card was trumped
And the house started to lean

The queen of hearts went thump
Her unforeseen loss now seen

The king walked away as trumpets played
And with him, he took everything

Sent from my iPhone

(82 words)
Robert Lee Brewer

"your secret"

speak in code
tell me stay
tell me go
& away
i will throw

the darkness
to the night
for that dress
fit just right
i confess

your secret
is not safe
if you set
me to stay
i will get


(45 words)


In the Morning Still Dark

some inner essence pushes me
from sleep, and dreams of living
in a different time, a recent
past unfinished-Monday
perhaps-when a task was interrupted,
and now this dream of clutter rolls
unsympathetic in my brain.
Articles from yesterday accumulate:
laundry, handbags, tooth paste,
shirts and pants, vague bundles
that increase and overflow,
a diabolical Goodwill bin. Further
into the dream the stacks tumble
from my arms while all the people
surrounding me appear
to manage their parcels, locate
their transportation and move along.
I beg the few faces I recognize
to carry part of my confusion, but
their dream visages move away
and in the street I stand burdened.
The horror forces me to the conscious
world. I awake remembering as if
I am still there.

(131 words)

Secret Indulgences

I?ll drown myself in melted chocolate;
dark rivulets of bitter-sweet, my love,
as soothing to my soul as Holy Writ
yet, decadent as sinful thoughts thereof.

Ignite my thighs and hips with sweet desire
of promises to come; a luscious kiss,
the nectar of cacao, fuels my fire
and turns my passions into evening?s bliss.

But, wake me not from this enchanted sleep,
disturbing cherub?s songs and sweetest dreams!
In safety, my confectionary keep
where chocolate syrup flows in gentle streams.

For joys that thrill and satisfy at night
will often dissipate come morning?s light.

(97 words)

?Phlox and the Butterfly?

she? stands posed and poised
someplace along a stretch of lonely terrain
that amusing arch in her spine in bloom
sheltered in oblique sunlit rays
draws him in presto and gaily

he? flutters and flatters
fantastically in his fine-spun wind spins
resplendent in his gestures
and sips the regions of
her alluring nectar

they... appraise their good thing
and praise their predestination
a stout amaranthine devotion
only revealed when
their time was favored

(77 words)

It?s a secret.

Don?t you dare
tell. Oh no, we can?t
punish the one
who hurt us.
The neighbors might know
and then gloat while keeping
their secrets
to themselves.

(31 words)

They're coming for me, you know ...

Burly men in dark trenchcoats
Tall men in business suits
women begging me for a child
others saying they have mine

Black, blond, ruby hair
brown, steel, jaded eyes
long arms for reaching
short legs for sprinting
mouths with rows of needle-pointed teeth
reaching and grasping for me
fighting tooth and nail, fang and claw
everyone wants a piece of me
for their wallet, for a jar
mounted on the wall over the mantle
tied to the bedroom headboard
chained in a dungeon deep underground
wanted alive, but already dead

(They?re hiding in the trees)
(in my backyard, in town)
(in the shadows of night)
(in closets and behind doors)
(they can see and hear everything)
(with a transmitter in my teeth fillings)
(and a wireless camera in my wife?s womb)

Now they found a new attack:
my three-year-old asked for my tax forms
to peruse and verify my income, no doubt
the six-year-old is watching me too closely, too
they probe me with an endless barrage of inquiries

(Strategy is my only defense)
(hiding documents is no good)
(I even shred my birthday cards)
(Christmas presents, still wrapped, decorate my closet)
(Sorry, Mr. Government Man,)
(the dog ate my briefcase)
(and the car ate my filing cabinet.)

** The basement floor is full of boxes *
** all covering mouldy mounds of earth *
** worms eating my loose ends *
* I doubt they will be missed. **

Phillips, my computer, tells me to beware
he sees them on the Internet
their prying eyes, and lightning fingers
searching for an angle on me
a weakness to develop and exploit

they want to steal my food and give to the rich
to burn my home, then piss on the cinders
teaching my kids to spy and cheat
sterilizing my progeny at their discretion


they think they?re driving me crazy
they don?t know it yet, but it won?t work
I?m only getting smarter and saner
as each day they try again, and again, and again.

(345 words)
Elizabeth V

Leaves Secrets

barely audible
nod their heads in assent
inventing a shape

dusty brass ones
scraping the asphalt

whispering, whispering
something twisted
something amiss
or not
or not

rolling the seeds of envy
under its tongue
the wind

begins its handiwork
I no longer understand
the movement of the air
which strikes me full in the face
cuts off the breath

no longer mine
I am a new species
face and heart

carved from marble
learning the art of detachment
no longer vulnerable
to their stiletto-edged glares
eyeing my neck

Or not
Or not

(103 words)

An Argument with Alzheimer-Kat walsh
Where are we going
Will I never tell
Ts it green and lush
or a slow burning hell

Will I know the place we go
Or have I never been
Can you tell me now
If not now then when

Why do you keep such secret?
It seem to me you never tell
We are the same you and I
Seriously i'm talking to myself.

(70 words)
Roxanna Watrous

Secrets are for keeping.
I keep mine in a box
buried deep with skeletons
that politicians tossed.
Beware if you go searching,
you won't like what you may find.
They're hidden for a reason
so leave your hunt behind.

(39 words)

Just found out about this and am playing catch-up


He should never have told me
Not to tell!
The words beat against my lips
Begging to tell another
Begging to breathe a whisper
Begging release
But I was sworn to secrecy!
I cry
Tightening the control of my brain
Over my sinning mouth

No, you didn?t hear that from me
You can?t breathe a word of this to anyone
I threateningly whisper
My brain freed
My burden now passed to another

(83 words)

Every hour with shaky hesitation
I cracked his bedroom door
Waited. Inhalation. Exhalation.
Then quietly retreated, back upstairs.
Dosing off at 4 maybe 5am,
(Note to self: only one Xanex, next time)
Awake at seven, calm
before remembering what sleep suppressed.
Too Paralyzed, to rise
to go downstairs to find..to find what?
Straining to hear through the walls
his signature throat clearing
telling me he was still alive.
Not even the birds or the trash man
offered a clue.
Momentarily, I drifted off
until the glup glup glup
of the Britta announced
we had survived the night.

(100 words)

I'm sorry, I'm still catching up on poems. Hopefully I'll be all caught up soon!

An Extra Sneaky Secret
by Jen Davies

I want to tell you an Itty bitty secret
but I?m not Allowed to tell you out loud.
I Must tell you
As secretly
and Sneakily
as Ellie (my name) possibly can.
Come inside, my mommy and daddy,
they?re good at keeping Real secrets
and me (Ellie)?
i?m even better Than them.
my sister Angie?s first day of school was
Going to be in august,
but she Ended up
Not having it then
because They (my parents) couldn?t decide
which school would be best for
secret sneaky things.
Do you still want to hear
my secret?
Too bad, I just told you.
I hope you were listening,
because I was extra sneaky.

(134 words)
laurie kolp

Passing Notes

I found a Mrs. Bumstead?s candy jar
filled with old notes from junior high
folded down, square to triangle
corners neatly tucked like missiles
my boys flick across the den.
Someone named Shanna said me
& Julie B. were the only ones who
knew she liked someone other than
her boyfriend. I replied at the bottom
with a promise to tell a secret?
something real bad!?
if she?d write down the name of the guy,
which was someone named Alex.
The note ended there.

(86 words)
Sarah Metzler

Little Dumpling

Somewhere in the Mountain Palace
Kitchen pantry box
Are dancing noodles
And dumpling miracles

Somewhere behind the curtain
Nainai?s hands flick shadows
Over a pig and ginger picnic
On a blanket of dough

And just as the pig begins to confess to the ginger
Something it did with the celery and spice
Nainai pulls up the sides and pinches their lips shut
And boils them blanket and all

No pity for a pig with secrets

She serves them to me screaming hot from the plate
I slurp them into my butcher?s pleasure dome
My teeth cut their flesh
As my taste buds blossom and ruffle
In the tempest of their once picnic lunch

When my mouth finds nothing left to savor
It fills itself with words
Celery, pork, shallot, ginger, dough
And?something I could not touch with my tongue

Something like the words the woman spoke
To the yellow canary
To make it sing

Something that churns in my tummy
In the center of my folded body
Tucked in a pocket of bedding
Safe under the glow of the moon

God have pity on little dumplings with secrets

_Sarah Metzler

(192 words)


A way to turn things upside down
Hidden in corners, hidden all around;
One can look you dead in the eye
Barely conceived, that's no lie.

Shoulder to shoulder, hold out your hand
Listen to the beat of he master plan;
The eyes will talk, the eyes will tell
Silently, stealthily, but never fail.

Taken to the grave, a story untold
Waiting for evidence to unfold;
To a great secret is the key
Nobody tells you, nobody tells me.


(82 words)

Morose Code

Brooding gloom.
A finger tapping pensively.
Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap.
Voiceless meaning brewing.
Her tone: on and off.
Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap.
Her sullen mood a call for help.

(41 words)

"Forbidden City"

I smoked inside your walls.
I was a dragon's breath//
then I left?
while you decayed,
as you strayed
from what made this
something worth fortifying.
A secret worth keeping.

- Gregory William Goodrich

(36 words)


This is just to say...
well, actually, this isn?t to say.
Because I can?t say.
It?s a secret.
But I would tell you if I could.
Because it?s ever such a good story
and you?re my friend.


(39 words)

I?m going to give all my
secrets away

I will cry to
the moon in the middle
of June, like the wolf cries
alone, crouched on the
bank, waiting for

Why do today
what I can put off til tomorrow?
Dirty dishes, piled up in heaps
of trash, filled with bones,
and sweat and blood.

What I meant to say,
I cannot say,
until I say

(70 words)

Members of the Wedding at the Main Street Bakery
by Cathy Dee

At the bakery
they asked to see
samples of
white cupcakes

After due deliberation
and some small
a favorite emerged

he wrote their order
ten dozen
of an elegant design
including sparkles

and interlocking
with filling,
delivery in June

as they left
she took her hand
squeezed it
and smiled

behind the glass door
he watched
fingers on keyboard:

or cancel

(76 words)

white lies

?will you marry me??

it was only white lies at the beginning -
about the questionable beauty of
a newborn, or the awesomeness
of your strawberry shortcake.

about liking Pink Floyd and
the sound of rain on a tin roof, or
if I ever slept with a girl.

the truth is I don?t even like cake,
rain irritates me, and I
should have never left Amy.

?yes, baby, I will?

-Sophie Chouinard, April 2015
NaPoWriMo - Theme : secret

(81 words)
Susan Budig


The voices began to come at night,
but I was sleeping and couldn?t hear

So then the voices entered my dreams,
but I pretended to be deaf and couldn?t hear

As I read the Chicago Sun over biscuits and chai
the voices pressed themselves up through the newsprint

My steaming cup tipped over
smudging out the words

Today I am talking to my friend who whispers,
her husband found some other lover

She begs, ?I don?t know who she is??
But the voices I hear, spilling from her lips:

You are the other lover,
You?ve been found out
Found out

(101 words)
julie e.


She was singing love songs in her head
when she realized he didn't
dreaming of tender touches
when she realized he won?t
seeing sunset Hawaii
and her toes in warm sand
while he and his shoes stayed inside
and her subconscious secret

(45 words)

" "

The greatest secret I never told is, ? .?

It is harsh, breathy.
It looks like the membranes of my lungs,
the bronchi in my throat.
It sounds like music boxes
posing as surrogates for vocal chords
and feels like heavy-set, rusted wind chimes,
scratching up and down my neck.

It is a stutter, a flutter in my stomach.
It is the acknowledgement that my feet
yellow the grass wherever I step upon it,
no matter how often I water the soil.

My greatest secret is my untrustworthy heart;
incapable of decision making and keeping promises;
ever-wanting, ever-loving what is cancerous to me.

S. G. K I L B R I D E

(115 words)

A Terzanelle Poem

I have this secret to share:
she cannot find her glasses.
I know exactly where

and as time passes
she'll find them again.
She cannot find her glasses

she has a mixed-up brain.
She is so absent-minded.
She'll find them again,

they're actually on her head!
She can keep secrets:
she is so absent-minded,

but she never forgets
where she's hidden her wine.
She can keep secrets

I will not keep mine.
I have this secret to share:
where she's hidden her wine
I know exactly where.

Written as per Robert's Terzanelle poem instructions link above. Thank you, Robert

(103 words)


when I wear it
the lbd - little black dress
with its perfect fit
and hem that stops just there
and a neckline that's so low
but not too low
I am a queen;
sometimes a queen of the night
and other times it's perfect
for the funeral I must attend
if I slide a skinny black patent belt
around my waist to match
black patent pumps
and a black patent clutch

and depending on whether
I don a broad-brimmed hat,
a beret, or sweep my hair
into a chignon, and dangle
jet earrings from my lobes
that dress will take me anywhere
it is like having a secret weapon
in my closet and I know that any
time I pull it out and put it on
I am armed and ready
for any action there is.

(141 words)
Bonniejean Alford

"A Journey Unfinished"
a poem by bonniejean alford

Generations lost in time.
Faces unseen. Stories untold.
Tomorrows and yesterdays collide in the unknown,
with the future very much dependent upon the past.

A family formed in the depths of history
on lands far from the home known today.
A family?s journey most certainly unfinished,
built upon nameless memories lurking in the shadows,
yet ever cherished and ever sought after.

Joy and sadness existing together,
as a foundation for love transcending,
building memories for a tomorrow yet to come,
and names yet to be bestowed.

(94 words)

When I was not yet twelve,
I wandered alone on forest trails,
read Rosemary?s Baby
forbidden by the Church,
Mom, both grandmas.
My back pressed firm
on dirt and scrub weeds
under tree limbs
heavy with hard pears
I savored the forbidden fruit
high on daring,
laced with secrets.

(50 words)

You think you're high and mighty
Though your credence lies in shards
It might help if I remind you
Who now holds all the cards.

You thought, though we were dating
That you could mess around
But guess who soon discovered
You're a ladies man, renowned.

The shock in your eyes
When trapped in your lies
Almost made the pain worthwhile.

Through all the secrets you hid
I discovered what you did
Now I'm the one hiding the smile.


(80 words)
Ellenelizabeth Cernek-Kashk

April 2, 2015

The secret

How many seconds, minutes, hours
Turned into days, weeks, months, years
Holding us together in our secret life.

I have been your best friend
The lover you needed
The mother you wanted
The wife that she was not.

I was hidden away
As I took care of so many things
She could no longer do,
Or wanted to do.

As you complained I listened
To your woos, as only a lover could
To your raves, as only a best friend could
To your heart, as only a mother could

I opened my heart and life
For us to share and live
It was so many years
I was the other, ?the secret?.

When life did give you freedom
And by the Grace of God
He took her home
I was there, your secret to console you

I have only been allotted 7 years
For ?Us? to shine and thrive
In the beautiful Arizona sun
Before God stole my secret.

(164 words)
Siofra Alexa