Poem #17, #18, #19, #20, PAD Challenge 2009

I know; I got a bit behind on the PAD Challenge thanks to the fun 24-hour Read-a-Thon and a number of other activities. However, as promised I've caught up with the prompts. Check out these rough drafts.

Poem #17's Prompt is to use this title and fill in the blank: "All I want is (blank)"

All I want is a Championship

I’m not an athlete
I used to get hit in the head
with soccer balls, baseballs, softballs.
You name it, there’s a bump on my head for it.
My coordination has never been great.
But in fantasy, I can pick the best
athletes who dunk,
players with the best jump shot,
offense with the best pick-and-roll.
I can lead the league in games won
Every week in those match ups,
but the championship slips
through my fingers. . . again.

Poem #18 Prompt is about interaction.

Welcome

Please select from the following options:
Press 1 for billing,
Press 2 to set up a new service,
Press 3 if you are having problems with your service,
Press 4 for more options.

I press 4.

Press 1 for billing,
Press 2 to set up a new service,
Press 3 if you are having problems with your service,
Press 4 for more options.

I press 4.

Press 1 for billing,
Press 2 to set up a new service,
Press 3 if you are having problems with your service
Press 4. . .

I slam the receiver down,
Pick it up, dial,
Listen to the automated choices
Hit 0, six times.
That should be sufficient.

“Hello, may I help you?”
“Finally,” I reply.
I stare at the receiver for a moment,
Wondering why I called.

Poem #19 Prompt is to write an angry poem.

Executive-Directed Benefits

More than eight hours in this office
behind fabric walls
with hiked up knees beneath my desk.
My fingers curled,
hammer keys at 60 wpm
prepping news for your executive minds.
Not your minds,
yours are empty.
Blinking eyes decide a benefits swipe.
It’s okay; your kids are grown
and have their own health insurance.
I don’t matter,
My family doesn’t matter.
Will you sit here in this emergency room,
waiting as they pull the knife from my back?

Poem #20 Prompt is to write a poem about rebirth.

Chemo

It courses through my veins
burning, searing me from inside.
I’m not sure this is medicine.
It kills the cancer in my body,
but it destroys my golden locks,
my appetite, and my complexion.

The doctor tells me I’m improving,
But I feel weak.
I slump down in my recliner,
struggle to get up
trudge between rooms.

My husband rubs my shoulders,
prepares my first solid foods.
Kelly green veggies, steamed.
Protestant carrots peppering my plate.
I can taste nothing,
But over the weeks, the fresh
ground emerges from the farmstand veggies.

My muscles charge slowly
like my cell phone in the wall.
Rose returns to my cheeks
And my eyes no longer droop.
The doctor smiles as hair stubs emerge.
I’m ready.

What did you write today?

For more information about the challenge, go here.

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