April PAD Challenge: Day 28
Apparently, Day 27’s comments were wiped clean sometime last night. Please re-paste your poem in the comments for Day 27. (Click here to go to Day 27’s prompt.) I apologize…
Apparently, Day 27's comments were wiped clean sometime last night. Please re-paste your poem in the comments for Day 27. (Click here to go to Day 27's prompt.) I apologize for the inconvenience, but luckily, we're only a few days from the finish line.
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After today, we'll have made it 4 weeks into the month. Only 2 days left! Of course, being so close to the end, I have to throw in a special challenge, right?
For today's prompt, I want you to write a sestina. (Click here to find out the rules for sestinas.) So start figuring out your 6 end words and get writing.
But wait! Today is Tuesday, so you have one other option. You can write a poem about the sestina (your love, hate, frustration with, etc.).
Whether you decide to write a sestina or write about sestinas, remember to have fun. We're almost done!
Here's my attempt for the day:
"The green cactus"
This morning, I found a cactus
beneath the desk lamp
on my desk. It's made of plastic,
the cactus. Somehow
these things just happen.
I have my usual suspects,
though I'm not sure they suspect
I know about the cactus,
not yet. My boys were happening
to hang around my lamp
just yesterday. This is how
boys lose toys made of plastic
then expect new ones. Whether by plastic
or cash. I stash the suspect
toy in a file cabinet. How
long will I hide the cactus?
Who knows? The heat of my lamp
could've melted it. I happen
to think that could happen,
though I'm not certain of plastic
and its melting point beneath desk lamps.
Maybe I'm guilty of suspecting
too much. It's only a cactus,
and I'm sure that's exactly how
I was as a boy. That's how
behavior passes, and they happen
to have a forgetful father with a cactus
made of cheap, green plastic.
My mind is as suspect
as anyone's held under a lamp
and analyzed. Read my palm
to suggest the what and how
of dealing with little male suspects
who love me and just happen
to leave their little plastic
toys as offerings. This little cactus,
sweet cactus, re-emerge beneath my lamp
in your skin of plastic. Show how
a father can return a love never suspect.

Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Editor of Writer's Digest, which includes managing the content on WritersDigest.com and programming virtual conferences. He's the author of 40 Plot Twist Prompts for Writers: Writing Ideas for Bending Stories in New Directions, The Complete Guide of Poetic Forms: 100+ Poetic Form Definitions and Examples for Poets, Poem-a-Day: 365 Poetry Writing Prompts for a Year of Poeming, and more. Also, he's the editor of Writer's Market, Poet's Market, and Guide to Literary Agents. Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.