Hah! You thought the Fat Kid was going away for the weekend again, didn't you?? SURPRISE!!!! Nope, I'm here, I've just been gathering my thoughts all day. Believe it or not, sometimes, poetry is hard work, and one doesn't know exactly what to write all the time. Sometimes, just letting things stew for a short period help out a lot. So that's what I've been trying to do all day today - just let thoughts stew see what the soup tastes like. Oh, Big Ol' props to my wife for making some excellent potato-leek soup tonight! It was completely awesome in every way - particularly since yesterday's storms left behind some kinda nasty chilly weather. Well, on to some poetry, huh???
Water
You stab at the water, and it flows,
unchecked, unhindered in almost every way,
fluidity its saving grace as onward it goes, ever down.
Constant motion, the stuff of life
and destruction.
Shapeless, formless, senseless, forgetful -
Shaping our lives,
forming our needs
sensing our fear,
forgetting we exist though we can never forget it.
Oh, to be the water, no memory, no future, no desire -
essential and caring not.
But, unable to love,
I am glad that I am not the woundless water.
Thanks for reading.
The Fat Kid
1 comment:
"Death is like a feather, duty like a mountain . . ."
Or something like that. I liked this. It has a calm, reflective air about it, but also some martial elements to it. A nice contrast, mostly under the surface. I also like the dichotomy of the personal and the universal - a nice balance is found here that isn't always present in other poems. A nice rhythm and flow to the words and meter too. This poem doesn't so much call up imagery as it does emotion or memory. Words choice is also a strong here, though some tweaking could help, I'm not sure.
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