Tomorrow is our last April prompt! Saturday we will breathe, and then Sunday (May 2), we will return to our regular prompts and features here at Poetic BloomingsWarm smiles to you all as we near the final stretch!

Day 29 prompt from Robert Lee Brewer of Poetic AsidesWrite an Evening poem.
2021 April PAD Challenge: Day 29 – Writer’s Digest (writersdigest.com)

Want to use a form, and need help choosing one? Here’s our Bloomin’ list! Inform Poets | POETIC BLOOMINGS (wordpress.com)

This month, we are sharing Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April P.A.D. Challenge daily prompts right here at Poetic Bloomings. As has become our April custom, we will suspend our own prompts in favor of simply poeming alongside the WD Poetic Asides group.

Feel free to share your poems in the comment section below, as always. The idea is not to take away from Robert’s site, but to have a small, safe place where our Bloomers can easily share our poems daily, and interact and encourage one another throughout the month.  No need to wait for moderation or sign up for a third-party platform here at Bloomings.  We are a small and intimate group. We know you!  And we are better for it!

Connect, keep healthy, and poem on!

160 thoughts on “2021 APRIL POEM-A-DAY CHALLENGE, PROMPT #29


    In the evening, when day is through,
    the sun retreats to a place where
    slumber awaits her brilliant hue.
    Night is her time to seek repose.

    And so, in her tired escape,
    in the evening when day is through,
    star-crossed lovers beneath the moon
    hold each other ever so close

    and share their dreams. It always seems
    that it draws out a kiss or two
    in the evening, when day is through.
    Seductive sounds surround them so.

    Yet sounds, like sunsets, seek repose
    as morning approaches once more.
    But to be sure, romance returns
    in the evening, when day is through.


    Hear the crickets chirping across the field,
    harmony to the cicada call. All is still
    in the evening at day end.

    You step out to the porch swing, bringing
    a cup for you and one for me. A cup of tea
    in the evening at day end,

    steeped and steaming, it has me dreaming
    of how mellow love is. It is the soft breath
    in the evening at day end,

    of a summer breeze, there is ease in your motion,
    a notion that soft caresses will soothe each heart
    in the evening at day end,

    as it has from the start. Listening to night fall
    not making a sound as it hits the ground,
    in the evening at day end.

    There is just me and you,
    our teas and the summer breeze!
    In the evening at day end.


    Darkness covers all,
    cloaking everything enveloped in her sad embrace.
    Her face is hidden, masked and concealed,
    not to be revealed in the muted moonlight.
    Even stars bright lose their luster, remaining
    only a cluster of distant orbs. Evening absorbs
    and devours, leaving a pall over the crowd.
    Evening is a shroud.

  4. In the evening,
    the stars come out to fill the skies.
    In the evening,
    loving hearts will keep believing;
    mothers singing their lullabies;
    children held close in comfort, sigh
    in the evening.


    as the approach of darkness nears
    I fear the draping shame of nightfall
    when the creeping things waken their eyes
    to seize the vulnerable vessels of prey

    as the earth willingly spins about on its axis
    It’s difficult to ascertain its turning away
    from the greater light-bearer
    and draw nearer to the darker wiles of the night

    perhaps it’s an inexplicable design of sorts
    that we may experience the slow death of day
    that our fellow man may also bask in the light
    that he too would also delight in its ray

    Benjamin Thomas


    ‘Twas a cobalt mist that came to grace the evening skies
    in clear contrast with her cocoa eyes.
    Night fell as she was emerging from her rest,
    the chance to embrace the night and send the day
    into a halted grind. And in the blink of her dark eyes,
    a wink at that, we stood on the brink ready to
    align and vibrate. She had succeeded to hook
    the one of many fish in her sea. It ‘twas me!
    On the page of our universe, we were merely a dot,
    but we looked much bigger in print (if you’d squint!)

  7. Thursday Evening in Spring

    soft light given to shadows
    colored lights dance on a wall
    gentle breezes ease the day
    whispers of joy
    a song to sing at karaoke
    people sing and dance
    old friends meet again
    I stand at the microphone
    become The Beatles
    for a moment
    or Paul McCartney
    others become other stars
    a street light flickers to life
    skies tinted a shade of deep blue
    as cars pass and disappear
    we become our dreams


    When bad luck comes with hue and with shout
    and your fears go careening about,
    it is well to recall
    that today is not all,
    for it soon will be evening out.

  9. Evening came for her at last…

    In evening, her face showed age,
    But did not hide her morning beauty.
    A strength honed by picking cotton,
    And washing clothes in a cast iron pot.
    This woman of courage
    Who married a man,
    Most would not consider.
    She faced them down…
    For she saw in him
    What others didn’t.

    As evening began
    To swathe her,
    It was those afternoon summer days,
    Filled with children,
    And babies rocked in an old black rocker,
    That made a clacky-clack sound,
    That she held close.
    As two of them left her.
    She cried only as a mother can…
    For the loss of her child-
    For those children, like her man,
    Nightfall came early.

    There was courage in her fiber,
    And fight in her bones.
    She stood tall-
    Even when she was shrinking.
    She said often,
    “You just have to keep on going,
    No matter what comes your way.”
    In her evening days she was fierce
    In holding back, the night…
    Until it became too heavy,
    And crushed her as it fell.

    But even as the night
    Fell fast as a stage curtain,
    At the end of her act,
    It left an impression,
    Not to be forgotten
    By those who loved her…
    Knew she lived on in them.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 29, 2021

    In memory of my mother Mary Louise Rainey Todd born 28 Feb 1915 and died on 29 Apr 2008.


    Gentle soft hues,
    After evening news
    When the noise of the day
    Fades away,

    When the great hub bub,
    Washes off in the tub,
    Dishes and laundry done,
    Even the release of eager fun

    Birds fly off to land,
    Because they understand,
    The upcoming nightfall,
    Begins its song, its call.

    Stars begin their twinkle,
    Earth begins to still,
    Motion starts to slow,
    We all begin to let go,

    Peaceful night is coming in,
    We change how we’re driven,
    Slow down our gears,
    Release daily fears,

    Let down our guard,
    Relax in that regard,
    All busyness is put away,
    Made ready for the next day,

    Twilight signals a time to release,
    To create a few moments of peace,
    The day is wrapping up,
    Put some wine in that cup.

    Feeling gratitude for it all,
    Answering the day’s endless call,
    Now we can really put up our feet,
    Knowing the day is complete.

    (c) Janet Rice Carnahan 2021


    Night had fallen,
    and any sullen mood I might have fostered
    had found its rest in the evening sands.
    The warmth of the day lingered
    as wanton fingers traced along the
    titillated flesh of that beautiful and willing
    (although scared and nervous) woman
    who had held my fascination
    and seized my heart. We began that
    tactile meander, both with shaking hands
    as they wandered and we explored one another.
    Tender caresses that unharnessed
    our sleeping libidos. In the heated throes
    of passion, it was an uncharted course.
    Navigating by the stars above,
    love came home ‘neath the shimmer
    of a broad bright moon. It felt so right,
    just like the first time, every night.
    And my hands still quiver from that sight,
    the beginning of passion in the bright moonlight.


    Evening descends like a hushed silence,
    and tranquility is its marker.
    Her song is a lilting lullaby
    in the shadows of the night.
    There’s no threat of violence
    as the midnight sky grows much darker.
    The constellations fill the sky
    contradicting darkness, bringing light.

  13. The Magician Cloak

    When twilight alarms
    Awakens the night,
    The magician who slept
    Through the daylight hours.

    The magician stretches
    Arms out wide to shake off sleep,
    And dresses in velvet plush
    Deep piles of dark space.

    A jigger of smoky whiskey,
    To drink away the day,
    Tosses dark tresses,
    To release the tangles.

    Stepping to the coat rack
    And takes down a dusky cloak,
    Which carries the hidden secrets
    Of the night.

    As the moon and planets of evening
    Have risen over the sphere,
    The cloak is donned
    and waits for the minute…

    Evening becomes night.
    The clock has struck,
    And the magician throws
    Open the cloak to reveal,

    The moon rising higher,
    With the planets in sight,
    While stars dance at the milky way
    Until dawn comes and the secrets hidden again.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 29, 2021


    Approaching the gloaming now,
    the dawn seems eons behind.
    The dark of night waits,
    patiently biding it’s time behind a
    faint early evening star.
    It was noon only a minute ago,
    brightly shining with hope,
    plans made with surety,
    more time than dreams to fill it.
    Now, awaiting an uncertain future,
    the hours already spent
    seem but trumpery
    when placed beside
    the time remaining.
    Too much wastage,
    squandered could haves,
    elusive promises.
    Still, there’s work to do,
    and yes, time to do it.
    What’s left is now, 
    this moment,
    as the sun fully sets, 
    dawn and dark of night 
    the same gift of opportunity, 
    like a poem, 
    somewhere between
    a vision and a dream.

  15. Balance

    Living this moment,
    trusting in a future,
    awaiting the
    vernal equinox,
    mid-day and late evening
    in perfect harmony.

    (A Sestina for evening)

    Very first cues are the lovely soft hues,
    they begin to settle in through twilight,
    like the feeling of a whisper of love,
    teasing lovers with intention and ease,
    a soft hint of upcoming affection,
    day slows, an invitation to let go,

    Nothing tells us clearly when to let go,
    sky’s shift to the softer, gentler hues,
    clues we can turn towards greater affection,
    hidden in sweet arrival of twilight,
    coming in with the calmest of pure ease,
    such a fun tease, much like echoes of love,

    perhaps twilight invite us to feel love,
    by putting away the day, letting go,
    releasing the tension, welcoming ease,
    letting the heart reflect the softer hues,
    the great teaching art touch of sweet twilight,
    the opportunity for affection,

    twilight might be is the sky’s real affection,
    showing us all how to accept the love,
    a short time between day and night, twilight,
    signaling to birds, too, time to let go,
    not too bright or too dark are lovely hues,
    welcoming in for us a great soft ease,

    Our busy minds relax in twilight’s ease,
    Creating openings for affection,
    The obvious clues are found in the hues,
    That’s good news for ongoing, playful love,
    Encouraging people to just let go,
    Such is the great, subtle gift of twilight,

    If you have ignored it, wait for twilight,
    Let it take you into the night with ease,
    Let it show you the art of letting go,
    Trust the warm feel it has towards affection,
    Trust it like you would feel such warm pure love,
    Feel yourself wrapped into its softest hues,

    Found in the subtle pink and peach sweet hues,
    Energy for relaxing into love,
    Pure opening for true heart affection.

    (c) Janet Rice Carnahan 2021

  17. The Remainder

    As dawn paints in soft golden sparkles,
    And rosy fingers as Homer recited…
    Evening must take the remainder,
    With flows with mid hues of violet
    That becomes the dark hues of night.
    It throws deep red wines that fade to twilight,
    And gilt gold that glows and
    Sparks the flames-
    Setting fire to the stars,
    While shadowy greys
    Mark an etching of a face on the moon

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 29, 2021


    Dry, parched earth…
    yearning, thirsting for
    just one sip.
    Evening storms
    skip by. I’m left with mourning,
    my hopes over dew.

  19. Evening’s Dawn

    not quite the stuff of five or six
    their watery light left over
    from sinking sun but this dawning
    of evening, this gap in the void
    just before it all draws down

    an absolute predictable and daily
    pause pregnant with silence so profound
    you can tell time sans watch or phone
    no need to hold your horizontal palm
    in front of dipping sun counting
    hand by hand to trees’ tips
    to know hours until sunset

    here mid-field you listen to absence
    know with surety nestlings nap
    bird minders nodding off
    everyone sated bugs and bees exhausted
    from working morning bee lines
    the continual ferrying of dung
    by the busy beetles and those
    pillbugs rolling, rolling

    in the woods there is a palpable hush
    soft maples yet to turn silver insides out
    late afternoon wind yet to shift
    tonight’s building rain holding off
    bundled in layers of high humidity

    you gaze skyward into filmy white
    clouds drifting across endless blue
    your eyes following jet signatures
    a contrail or two scribed in silence
    and yet you strain for those sounds
    of roaring engines as chalklines fade
    but here is only stillness of this predawn

    before evening falls heavily bringing
    on night with the big cat stretching
    above the creek and deer moving
    onto the fields and possums and coons
    wandering the rows stealthily as
    owls swoop out from the timber

    but everything resting now as if
    marshalling forces and you stand here
    wrapped in all of nothing
    move your toes inside your boots
    just to make something happen.

    (All’s Fair in Love and War)

    Your touch awakens my senses
    while the world slumbers.
    You’ve softened my defenses
    with your touch–it awakens my senses,
    I yearn to mend fences.
    No longer encumbered,
    your touch awakens my senses
    while the world slumbers.


    I want to grab the evening.
    And wrap it into me,

    I want it to sing,
    To the heart of me,

    Take out clouds of doubt,
    Shake them wildly, let them out,

    Wipe away any rain,
    Dread, worry, all the pain,

    Squeeze out all the sunlight,
    Into my smile, make it bright,

    Use all the whispered wind it can find,
    I’ll carry that magic into my mind,

    And all the beauty of stars can glow,
    As I place them around me just so,

    But to my endless surprise,
    What would I do with the sunrise?

    Would I throw back the night?
    Hope it lands happily upright!

    Would I correctly place all the planets?
    Face up after making them Janet’s!

    Would stars continue to shine,
    After I made them just mine?

    I guess I better leave the night,
    Right where it is so it stays alright,

    I know it belongs to us all nightly,
    Same with the sun, when it glows so brightly,

    And so goes the imagination of this poet,
    Thinking she can grab the night, wouldn’t you know it!

    (c) Janet Rice Carnahan 2021

  22. Evening Jazz

    Like cool jazz after dark
    The mocking bird sings
    Out its repertoire of bird
    Calls and I join the other
    Night creatures in a moon dance

    “Well, it’s a marvelous night for a moondance”
    Van Morrison


    Call to me at the ardent crest of eventide
    At the expedient fullness of an eager moon
    At the supreme height of an epic spring tide
    At the apex of nature’s pull on oceans flowing

    Call to me at the setting of departing sun
    At the extravagant descent of the day’s star
    At the yielding of brilliance to the tumbling of darkness
    At the majesty of sunset to the sweet silvering of moonrise

    Benjamin Thomas

  24. Possibilities of Evening

    I love that interim time before
    those violets and roses pull back their doors.
    A thread of color ‘fore brush of black.
    My eyes await the silver splendor

    of stars in shapes that always come back.
    A clearer time is evening. No lack
    of dreams and possibilities
    which, at dawn, may start your brand new track.

  25. Last Evening

    A father showed his young children-
    The beauty of a Luna Moth…
    Clothed in milky white body opening celery green wings.
    This queen of the night moves in grace and attitude
    For no creature of the night
    Is as lovely she.

    At evening tide, the flowers send out
    Perfume heavy and musky
    Calling to the queen of the night
    Come drink my nectar.
    It is sweet and intoxicating,
    As honey that has been changed into wine.

    She floats beneath the stars,
    And carries two moons-
    One for each wing, and
    Wears a feathered headdress,
    Or should we call it a crown?
    She will decide.

    As the father told his children
    That there is beauty everywhere,
    The Luna Moth had more important
    Creatures to impress, and
    Without a noise
    She flitted away.

    Mary Elizabeth Todd
    April 29, 2021

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