Poem A Day Challenge For April 8

April 8—For today's prompt, write a ready to celebrate poem. You could chronicle the actual celebration or even write about the anticipation of one.

Are You Ready To Ce-le-brate?
By Bill Kirk

Some might say a cause for celebration
Hardly comes along every day.
Yet maybe that’s cause enough to be ready,
Wouldn’t you say—to giggle, smile, shout, congratulate?
After all, there’s always plenty
To bemoan our pitiful circumstances
And ample reason to groan and complain,
Wondering why this or that hard knock happened.

But then, along comes some happy time
Or its memory or the anniversary of one,
That curls up the mouth corners, even if only slightly.
So, shouldn’t we be ready for those happy-nings,
Whether anticipated or unexpected?
You know, just in case?

Oh, sure. We could also be ready
To sink into the depths of depression.
After all, deference to the sensibilities
Of those who suffer loss is at times
The only right thing to do.

Yet even in the midst of inconsolable sadness,
The spark of joy and gladness awaits its turn
To give another day of life its due,
In anticipation of yet a better one.

“This is the day the Lord has made;
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24)

Poem A Day Challenge For April 7

April 7—For today's prompt, write a "what if" poem. It could be a "what if" from the past, present or future.

What If?
By Bill Kirk

To ask “What if?” implies
A certain choice, does it not?
Do we dwell on past events,
Wondering what might have happened “if”?
Or is time better spent turning our “what ifs”
Toward the future where hope still resides?

For what are the chances
Of predicting a different outcome,
Had we chosen a different path?
What if we had been given different gifts?
Would any one thing done differently,
Have made all the rest the best?
Or would results have been unkinder yet?
How could we possibly know for sure?

And what of decisions made today?
Are our predictive powers any better?
Or might applying lessons learned from past mistakes
Simply make us better guessers?
And what of the cards we’re dealt?
Life context provides a rich field of “what ifs” to harvest—
Divergent pathways in the woods, awaiting our next steps.

For me, color blindness may have been my salvation.
If I were to discern a different color palette,
What are the chances I would be writing this poem—
Or celebrating my wife’s birthday today?
What will you do with your set of unique circumstances?
Will you follow a lemonade dream?
Or do you relish your lemon drizzled over grilled salmon?
Same juice, different use.

What’s in your bracket?
And how will you give voice to your choice?

Poem A Day Challenge For April 6

April 6—For today's prompt, take the phrase "Don't (blank), (blank);" replace the blanks with a word or phrase; use the new phrase as the title of your poem; and then, write your poem. Some possible titles might include: "Don't walk, run," "Don't fight, dance," "Don't turn around, they're right behind you," or whatever else you can think to create.

Don’t Say Won’t. Say Do
By Bill Kirk

Just thinking DON’T is such a drag—
It’s nothing but a frowner.
For DON’Ts won’t end up in a smile
Because a DON’T’s a downer.

It doesn’t matter if a DON’T
Is practiced in the present,
For even if said here or now,
A DON'T is hardly pleasant.

But even DON’Ts from yesterday
Won’t generate much action.
An old DON’T—just a DIDN’T then—
Still gives no satisfaction.

Now, if a DON’T still later on
Is what you are intending,
That future DON’T becomes a WON’T—
A DON’T that’s merely trending.

And if you might not do a thing,
The “might” makes WON’T a “WOULDN’T.”
To be polite about your WON’T,
You must insist, “I COULDN’T!”

Yes, DON’Ts abound in all their forms,
From SHOULDN’T, MUSTN’T, SHAN’T.
And if we listened to them all,
We might just think, “I CAN’T!”

So, when you’re asked to give advice,
Think what you’d like to hear.
If you were in another’s shoes.
What word would you hold dear?

Just one small word will say it all.
Two letters and you’re through!
You WON’T get far with Mister DON’T.
So DON’T say “WON’T.” Say “DO”.

Poem A Day Challenge For April 5

April 5—For today's prompt, do one of the following:

1. Write a goofy poem.
2. Write a serious poem.

(Note: This one could go either way---you choose.)

Lament To My Absent Muse
By Bill Kirk

It’s dark and cold at 4 a.m.
Yet I can hardly sleep.
Instead of writing poetry
I should be counting sheep.

For truth be told, this rhyme’s gone cold—
My poem is a flop.
No matter what I try to write,
My brain keeps yelling “Stop!”

Oh! What the heck. I think I’ll quit,
And leave my letters lost.
This search for words is getting old
It’s time this tome is tossed.

So, wrinkling up this scribbly page,
I’ll turn off every light.
If dribbly doodle’s all I’ve got,
It’s time to say good night.

Poem A Day Challenge For April 4

April 4—pick a type of person and write a poem about him or her. To help set the scene, you may want to title your poem as who the type of person is. For instance, you could write a poem titled "Firefighter," "Cynic," "Optimist," "Teacher," "2-year-old," etc. The list is endless.

The Drummer
By Bill Kirk

The drummer stands alone, waiting.
Poised and ready, his sticks hover above skins
Stretched taught over their frames—
Simple implements await his bidding.
Then, as if some solitary nuclear clock
Finally emits its primordial pulse,
The first strike of stick against skin
Signals life through action.

Tak! Tak! Tak! Tak!
Vibrations scream a one-note staccato—
R-r-r-racketa! T-t-t-tacketa! Pop! Pop! Pop!
Ripples push the sound barrier,
Seemingly broken in an instant
On the surface of the drum’s head—
Its micrometric amplitude
Hardly perceptible to the human eye.

The drummer calls his cadence without speaking
Save for the insistent sound spreading in ripples
From his drum’s core—through the rest of the
Drum corps on the floor around him.
His fellow drummers respond in kind with their first step,
And another and another still—
They answer the incessant urge to move.
Then in quick succession, they pick up the beat—
Accepting it as their own, completely owning the next strike,
And the next,
And the next,
And the next.
Crisp. Clear. United.

The very essence of integrity—One cadence. One team. One line.

The drummer carries the corporal beat—the rhythm of life.
Yet where does it come from and what does it mean?
Certainly the merging of rhythm, sound and intensity
Is more than mere technique.
Might there not be a subtle nuance
That defines the drummer’s very nature?
Could it be the soul’s search for perfect resonance?
And how does one discern such things?
Indeed, might drumming not be considered a metaphor for life?
The call of the distant drummer
Tapping out his cadence
And hoping it will be heard, headed and followed.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Boom. Boom. Boom.

The pulse of life beckons loudly—
Not wanting to end but having to.
In one beat, the performance is over.
Rejoice and be glad in it.