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Yippee! In honor of Poetry Month, Easter, and all things rabbity,
my free-verse picture book, To Rabbittown is now only 99 cents
on iTunes, Kindle, Nook--yippee! (Picture me jumping up and
down like an over-caffeinated kangaroo…)
Download the free Kindle for PC  if you don’t have an eReader.

And here are links to Poetry Month
in the Kidlitosphere–thanks, Jama!

Eli found Squirrel at the dog park.
Eli loves Squirrel.
Squirrel no longer squeaks. 
Eli removed Squirrel’s squeaker.
He couldn’t help himself.

Howdy, Campers and welcome to my 2012 Poem-A-Day Challenge!  Wowee–I can’t believe it’s here again!  This means I’ve been writing a poem a day since I took the challenge in April 2010.  Two. Whole. Years.  Over six hundred poems.

Ask any writer and I’ll bet 98% of us wonder if we deep-down really ARE writers.  Writing a poem a day has given me an amazing gift–I no longer doubt that I’m a writer.

This month, all the poems will be DOG POEMS, because the dog park is my new addiction.  So, let’s get on with the dog show–arf, arf!


April 28


by April Halprin Wayland

Freshman Dodger John Ely is pitching his 2nd game ever in the majors
sending those balls skidding past every one of the Brewers,
making them spin like tops,
no one gets on—
what a great dance.

I was at the first game Dodger great Don Sutton
pitched for them, April 14, 1966.
I finger that small slice of history in my pocket
and sometimes bring it out,
turn it over,
smell those Dodger dogs still.

“Call us after 8 pm” they told us, “to see if
this dog has been taken or is still available.”
So in the middle of the game at 8:01, I dial
the Carson Animal Shelter,
Ely pitches another 1-2-3-and-they’re-out inning,
the crowd roars, and I can barely hear

“What? He IS?”

Colors vibrate all around:
the grass field is as green as Oz,
black sky, hot lights, red dirt,
our team’s white uniforms,
fans in Dodger Blue.

We leave before the game ends,
beating the traffic in the glint of night,
stars in the sky, we know we’re winning,
keeping those Brewskis at bay.

9pm, breezing down the 110 freeway,
we listen to the radio as the crowd gives young John Ely
a standing ovation;
then we toss out balls of our own:
or maybe just Dog.

We drive away from this small slice of history
and maybe…
maybe we’ll go to the shelter tomorrow morning at nine a.m. sharp
and maybe we’ll get that lanky, licky, sweet-eyed teen-aged dog
and maybe
just maybe
we’ll name him Ely.

Poetry Prompt: This is our dog’s adoption story.  We changed the spelling of his name, but this is why he’s named Eli.

It’s your turn. Whose birth story do you want to tell in a poem?  Do.

poem © 2012 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved


  1. alene weldon rice says:

    Dolley sent us your site, April, and we’ve been so enjoying your month of dog poems.
    We hate to see it coming to the end.
    Your work really is amazing.
    Thank you. -=Alene and Ed Rice=-

  2. April says:

    What a lovely treat to see you here! Thank you so much, Alene and Ed! Rest assured Dolley will keep sending you the dog poems I send her…at least the better ones!

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