A place to show my work
Fun Fact
To preserve the length of the holiday shopping season, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed legislation in December 1941 that decreed Thanksgiving would always fall on the fourth Thursday of November. Thanksgiving had been celebrated on the last Thursday of November, which in some years was the fifth, since 1863.
I am so hungry
But I do not want to cook
Find me some takeout
Pizza, sushi, or maybe
Some spicy noodles will do
-AAA/MAD
“December: A month of lights, snow, coziness, and feasts; time to make amends and tie up loose ends; finish what you started and make your wishes come true.” —Unknown
Every week, a creative prompt will be offered for you to unleash your imagination and artistic skills.
You can share your response in the form of art or any creative expression that the prompt inspires.
There are no restrictions and no deadlines, so feel free to take your time and enjoy the creative process.
Remember to label your response with #missysmadchallenge.
Your challenge for this week
Bored beyond belief,
No relief in sight.
Need to think of ideas
On things to do.
The road to the unknown brings great rewards.
Adventure lies beyond the shore.
Waiting for you to start.
In the arms of the tree, whispers of the past,
A haven of hope where spirits run free.
Branches stretch out like arms, wide and free,
A tapestry woven where memories last.
Raindrops
By my window
Drip drop is what I hear
What a lovely, beautiful sound.
Calming
“If we take care of the moments, the years will take care of themselves.” —Maria Edgeworth
Silly poems are fun to write,
About things both big and slight.
Handle, stick, and pole so tall,
They stand up straight and never fall.
Grab the handle, hold on tight,
It’ll help you with your might.
The stick is thin, the pole is long,
In this silly poem, they belong.
So next time you see a handle, stick, or pole,
Remember this poem, it’s good for the soul!
City lights flicker in midnight’s hush,
Streetlamps shimmer, neon blush.
Footsteps echo on empty ground—
Silent thoughts the only sound.
In the stillness of the night, memories gently reverberate,
Through the corridors of time, they softly resonate,
Echoes of laughter and tears intertwine,
In the chambers of the heart, they enshrine,
Timeless, bittersweet melody, forever innate.
Amidst the silence, their whispers still resonate.
M.A.D. Works 