Writer’s Digest November Poem-a-Day 2017 Challenge #19. Theme: Abundance

The magic of childhood

The Abundance of Life (is Life Itself)

Life is used, life is wasted
Life is consumed, sometimes whole
Life is created, life is destroyed
Life is saved, sometimes sacrificed
Life is spent, invested, & given
Life is quantifiable
Life is measured, life is weighed
Life is nurturing our nature
Life is making the most of the cards Fate has dealt
Life is making love, making babies
Life is perspective, everchanging
Life is learning from the mistakes of others
Life is learning from our own mistakes
Life is learning the hard way
Life is unfiltered—acidic in its rawness
Life is non-renewable
Life is uninsured
Life is in the present
Life is change; it comes in waves
Life is about second chances, & seventy times sevens
Life is a series of deaths & rebirths
Life is built & rebuilt, deconstructed & reconstructed
Life is one mistake from ruin
Life is in the details that make up the big picture
Life is one person from another’s destiny
Life is history & herstory
Life is a fairy tale, a horror story, a mystery, a comedy, a tragedy
Life is an autobiography, a series of memoirs
Life is a memory
Life is remembering
Life is forgetting
Life is laughter & tears, & everything in between
Life is getting excited about the little things
Life is getting excited in preparation for the big things
Life is imagination, reimagined
Life is exploring, discovering, creating, & recreating
Life is more than productivity
Life is a dance
Life is music (but not a musical)
Life is a series of awkward moments
Life is a string of amazing moments
Life is lived through our phones, captured with lenses, recorded, sometimes forgotten
Life is imitated, sometimes fabricated
Life is an open-ended question, a close-minded answer
Life is what happens when we’re not paying attention
Life is judged
Life is a sentence
Life is incarceration before conviction
Life is a reward, a punishment
Life is circuitous; it is meritorious
Life is making things work
Life is work
Life is valuable & invaluable
Life is lost, life is found
Life is fact-&-fiction & matter-of-fact
Life is show-&-tell
Life is hiding
Life is seeking
Life is movement
Life is a journey to a destination, with many stops along the way
Life is passing by, it is passing through
Life is the fork in the road that separates continuously
Life is parting ways
Life is unplanned
Life is making plans
Life is shared with the right people, squandered on the wrong people
Life is forgotten in attics, imprisoned in basements
Life is conceived in sin, born of the water
Life is as spiritual as it is sensual
Life is haphazard
Life is hazardous
Life is climbing on the x-axis & the y-axis
Life is an imaginary number
Life is making things happen & not letting them happen
Life is in the fingerprint, the iris of the eye, the DNA strands
Life is stored in bags of A, AB, B, O
Life is positive & negative
Life is added, then subtracted, & sometimes prevented
Life is pressurized, pasteurized, unable to be contained
Life is learning, teaching, unlearning, & reteaching
Life is fragile
Life is resilient
Life is complicated, complex
Life is the result of a fallen world
Life is the answer to the question
Life is the party
Life is the four loves
Life is a religious experience, a sexual existence
Life is etched in fine lines, filled in with scars
Life is a blurred line
Life is endured with gravity, enjoyed with levity
Life is the glimmer—the shine of the metaphor
Life is in the words we say & don’t say
Life is a series of commas, periods, and semicolons
Life is in the parentheses
Life is birth-life-ministry-death-resurrection-ascension
Life is four weddings & a funeral
Life is lived through our children, relived through our parents
Life is uncharted territory
Life is the beach at all tides
Life is the apple in the pie
Life is a blip in time
Life is an echo, a shadow
Life is living while dying
Life is planted, harvested, premature, & overripe
Life is living past its freshness date
Life is stepping outside ourselves to find ourselves
Life is unable to duplicate
Life is the other senses that add context to what we see & hear
Life is being odd, getting even
Life is breaking barriers, setting boundaries
Life is miscommunication
Life is making sense of nonsense
Life is what others make of it; what we make of what’s left
Life is unfashionable among the existentialists
Life is the selling of oneself, at times, to oneself
Life is seeing things as they are, as we want them
Life is in the Earth
Life is eviction from the womb
Life is sometimes dishonorably discharged
Life is in the bread & the water
Life is a clump of cells, rapidly dividing
Life is a beating heart
Life is a fertilized egg & the last breath of life
Life is timed, it is about time
Life is extremely fast & incredibly slow
Life is fluid, but never frozen
Life is everything, but not all at once
Life is the waxing of the moon, the waning of the sun
Life is the frost melting from the leaves, the dew beading on the rose
Life is in the firmament
Life is love
Life is large
Life is beautiful





Writer’s Digest November Poem-a-Day 2017 Challenge #17. Theme: What I Meant to Say

pay-phone-1489568_960_720 (1).jpg

What I Meant to Say

What I meant to say
when I said I don’t like talking on the telephone
was that I don’t like getting stuck in a conversation
even Houdini couldn’t escape from.

What I meant to say
when I said I liked the color of your dress
is that I hate the rest of it.

What I meant to say
when I read your work and praised your grammar
is that your story sucked.

What I meant to say
when I said I’m allergic to something in your food
is that your cooking makes me sick.

What I meant to say
when I said I have a headache
is that I don’t feel like brushing my teeth right now
(because I might want something sweet later–
something that adds calories,
not burns them.)

This is the art of communications.


Writer’s Digest November Poem-a-Day 2017 Challenge #16. Theme: Poem to the World


Dear World,

I believe you are older than they say you are. You’re looking rough in spots, but aging gracefully in others. I get that people can be real pimples—pimples you try to wash away through floods, exfoliate with earthquakes, or cauterize with wildfires.

Just know that even though you will outlive every last one of us, you are not eternal. You have no soul, for you show, with your volatile temper, your inability to discern the good eggs from the bad.

I tell you this: I worship your Creator, not His creation, meaning you—the earth was made for humans, not the other way around.

However, I realize we’re supposed to take care of our home, yet so many of don’t even take care of ourselves. I’m sorry that some have turned your waters into hormone baths in an attempt to reduce your population. I’m sorry that others rape your body for your organs, but isn’t that called industry? I’m sorry that still more poke at your oily pores until those fossil fuels run into your waters, but those fuels help keep that industry going—at least until we find green solutions.

Mother Earth, I can only help you by not hurting you, but to live the way I want, I must consume concrete things (i.e. resources), so that I can create abstract things (stories and the like).

You are but a glimpse of the world to come—heaven and hell coexisting. You were once so Edenic, but I know you blame us, especially those with the double X chromosomes. I wasn’t there, you know, so don’t get all huffy (or naturally disastrous) with me.

Maybe you should look at a planet like Mars and thank your lucky constellations that you aren’t just a ball of red dust. Believe me when I say that you are so beautifully diverse, so cosmically cosmopolitan, with your mountains and your valleys, your deserts and beaches and rainforests. Be thankful that you weren’t stuck with a name like Uranus, or demoted like Pluto (maybe if Pluto had people on it, it would’ve been better off). It’s your inhabitants that make you special—the fact that you can sustain life, so there! I mean, really, if we didn’t live here, would we care so much about saving you?

Sure, the other planets are left the hell alone (that’s the Libertarian way of life), but they won’t live near the life you will. You probably have all the diamonds our solar system (stars aren’t really diamonds, any more than the moon is made of cheese), which makes you quite a rich lady. And think about it like this: When we die, you keep all the spoils. So many jewelry cases (you say coffins, I say treasure chests) are buried in you. So what if they come with bones? Just think of skeletons as deconstructed jewelry trees.

My advice? Enjoy all this while you last.

Yours truly,
Sarah Richards



Writer’s Digest November Poem-a-Day 2017 Challenge #15. Theme: Stranger (blank)


Stranger World

If we had
but one day
to know a person,
and if everyone was good,
would the world be a better place—
for does not familiarity breed contempt?

If we could give life,
then separate for life,
knowing that life was in different,
but loving hands
for 6569 days,
could we live another day
to make another life?

If there were no husbands or wives—
if there was no sleeping with the same person twice,
would we sleep around less,
or even more?
Could we fall in love for a day,
only to have to go away?

If we never slept in the same house,
but had to go from one town to one city to the next
there wouldn’t be a smell in the world
to bring us back to such a place
that not one could name.

If we could never read the same book
or watch the same movie twice,
would we pay more attention?

For in a world such as this,
there would be neither building
nor rebuilding,
no permanence of person or place,
for everyday would be a new chapter
marked by days—
not of progress,
but of making it to,
and making it through,
the next one.




Writer’s Digest November Poem-a-Day 2017 Challenge #14. Theme: Traditional form poem (limerick)


It Melted

Here lies Gino Spumoni Supreme,
whose wifey thought he’d eaten all the ice cream.
When she peered into the freezer twice,
finding it puddled behind the Italian ice,
she went off the beam with an ice cream scream.


Writer’s Digest November Poem-a-Day 2017 Challenge #13. Theme: City


Conquer by Confusion

Grammarcity Park had two regions—
the rotten North Egg,
and the equally rotten South Egg—
hatched by two gangs known as
“The Pros” and “The Seven Cons”
(the latter also known as “The Fanboys”).

Though such activity was criminal
in this dark city—
overpopulated with commas,
nightly knifings with em dashes,
and unclean colons—
little was done to muck out
this den of corruption.

One night of Celtic Thunder,
the Fanboys decided the only way
to defeat the South Pros
was by appealing to the Chicago-style
and, in the name of equality,
forcing them to become
thus stripping them of their
the core of their identities.

And so, while the Pros were trying
to figure who was who
and what end was up,
“The Fanboys” band played on,
still making connections.