More April poems a day

Prompt 3 – For today's prompt, take the phrase "Partly (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make that the title of your poem, and then write the poem. For instance, your poem might be titled "Partly Cloudy," "Partly Crazy," "Partly Out of Touch," or whatever.

Partly Fine
As we walk along the beach
I ask how you are.
You say,
“Fine, I’m doing fine.”
Later on I offer to get the car,
but you refuse.
You want to keep moving on.

Yet when we get home
at the end of our 4-mile trudge
to the beach and back
I ask again.
Your response this time is
“It was too much for me,”
and you go in for a nap.

Prompt 7 – take the phrase "Until (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and write the poem. Possibilities include: "Until we meet again," "Until tomorrow," "Until monkeys fly out my butt," or even "Until blank" (why not?).

Until Your Dad Gets Home
Remember your mom saying
those very same words?
I think all moms do.
It’s their way to get the kids to behave.
But pretty soon they get on to her.
They know that when Dad gets home
he’s much too tired to straighten up
the messes she’s made throughout the day.
He’ll just send those unruly kids
to their rooms to wait
until he’s through reading the paper
for the spanking
that will never come.

Prompt 8 – pick a tool, make that the title of your poem, and write your poem. There are the more obvious tools, of course: hammer, screwdriver, wrench, etc. But there also less obvious tools and/or specialized tools available as well. Before attacking this poem, you may want to just think about the various possibilities first. Or just write.

My Tweezers
I know it’s ghoulish,
but I couldn’t live without
my eyebrow tweezers
and the opportunity to pluck
the stray hairs that grow
willy-nilly above my eyes
and mouth.
My husband calls any kind
of primping plucking.
“Enough plucking,” he says
and then he goes upstairs
and has another sip of wine,
knowing full well that his nagging
has no effect
on my getting ready any faster.
He’s resigned himself
to patiently wait,
Chardonnay in hand
as I pluck away.