Poetry Project, v 2.0, Day 28

Wow, the end of the third week, officially. Just a couple more days left to go, and the month will be over. I guess it's time to start reflecting a little on what this month has meant to me, and how this year's journey has helped me grow. First - this year, the month went by very fast. Last year, it was tough. This year, not so much. I can't be certain why that is, but that's what happened.

A bit about the themes: If you haven't guessed by now, the themed weeks were a little different approach. The Fat Kid has been on a heck of a ride this last year, and the themes were meant to reflect that ride. Week 1: despair. Week 2: acceptance and Week3: moving on and growth. The themese were intended to give a snapshot of the various stages I have been going through this last year. I hopeI succeeded. More reflections to come in the next couple of days, but for now, I think I should just finish up the last day of week three.


The evening ear son, at last.
Eyes, too tired to keep goin,
finger gently rolling to numbess.
All is as it should be,
the course is set, the mission clear.
The new adventure begins.
No more playing shadows,
No hiding away,
no running.

I have made my choice, chosen the ground on which I can stand.
Here, I mill not yield. I live on.

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 27

ACK! Looks like I missed the deadline by a couple minutes. Oh well, I haven;t gone to bed yet, so I'm altering the rules a little to suit my purposes!!!! Some might call it cheating. I call it....wait for it...poetic license!

Shuffle.
2124, set to mph,
right leg goes down,
left clicks into place.
The ride begins.
I am no longer just a man,
slow, incapable,
left behind.
I am something more,
rhythm and cadence,
light on the pedal stroke,
out of the saddle, able to dance,
rocking side to side,
the Mountain - my enemy - conquered.

Because I choose to be.


Thanks for reading.

Tha Fat Kid

Poetry Project v 2.0, Day 26

Can it be? only a few days left of this year's exercise, and i'm still going pretty strong. Not too bad, really. Well, why dawdle - might as well get to writing!

Blank pages stare at me,
waiting for the words to make them dance,
the melody and rhythm waiting for me
waiting on a melody.

Short and sweet, or lengthy and complex,
no one knows,
not even me.
I only know that I must write.
The page has been left blank for me,
and I must be the one to fill it.

It is the song of the writer,
Of fancy and of charm,
fictious wit and melancholy both.
Pain and beauty walking hand in hand.

the song is never complete,
but the writer must keep creating.
So I will.

Poetry Project v 2.0, Days 24&25

Oh well, it finally happened - I missed a day. So, for any playing along at home, that means you get a two-fer today!!!!!

Yesterday -
dark, foreboding,
hopeless, despairing,
never chancing, never daring,
silent.
unfeeling, uncaring.

Today -
bright and shining,
full of options,
I can choose,
dancing, singing,
being.


And for today....

I remember the smell of the forest,
a pine bed long ago,
where a child sat alone
a song ever-writing
new at each moment.

How I long to be that child,
to sing that song,
and rest beneath the trees,
on the bed of fresh pine,
in the safety of that lonely forest.



Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, v 2.0, Day 23

Wow, with ten minutes left, and me just back from Easter Vigil Mass, I think it's about time that I write some poetry! This week has given me many things to think about regarding the theme, and so maybe I can get a few of them out here!

The winter is over,
life abounds in in the verdant spring,
from the new calves in the fields to the goslings -
follow the leader-ing through the ponds.
life is everwhere.
Today the Resurrection,
celebrated by many,
personal to me.

For I, too, am experiencing a re-birth,
knowing a better existence is there for me,
ready to take the journey, I have only to be not afraid.

My fear is at rest.
and I am strong.
I have endured.
Now, it is time to grow.


Happy Easter -
And thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

POetry Project, V 2.0, Day 22

Ahh, the final week of this themed thing, the week I have been looking forward to the most! Why? Well, because it should be pretty clear at this point what the themes have been, and so the natural conclusion is this week's theme. No, I won;t actually say it until I'm at the very end - just to make sure you've been paying attention...


YOU

I was lonely, and hurting,
a wreck inside, unsure, unstable.
Lost, in a way.
And then, you were there.
I didn't see you coming,
I didn't plan on you.
But you were what I needed.
I can never repay you.
And all you did was be yourself.




Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, v 2.0, Day 21

Well, well...the end of week two, and here I am, enjoying a day off and the beautiful weather. Went for a long ride today, on a race course (race is Saturday) that let me know - again - why I ref these things, and do not race in them. Three climbs, and I got shelled on the first one. And I was getting better on climbing, too. Still, it was a gorgeous day, with beautiful scenery abounding - I think I even say a juvenile bald eagle! It was definitely not an adult - I've seen them in the wild, too - but the coloring was right, and it was difinitely a raptor of some sort - I heard the cry it gave off! Oh well, onto the last day of this week's theme. Tomorrow starts the week I've been looking forward to the most.


Tired

The waiting game is played,
the options, played out.
There is only one thing remaining: truth.
It is at the bottom of a well run dry.
No place to turn, nowhere to hide.
It must be faced, accepted, loved, feared,
known, hated, befriended, embraced.
It is simple.
And it is there when you are done fighting against it.
It will always be there.
And each will have to deal with it.

I am tired of fighting.



Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 20

Holy Yikes! I have 8 minutes to get a poem written!!!



I awake with a start,
the Dream still fresh in my mind.
It was meaningful, important, necessary, and perfect -
but I can feel it already beginning to fade,
just a few seconds after the fact.
What was it again?
The details fade and I am left,
helpless as a babe trying to find his words,
failing, and not even knowing how to cry.
Was I dreaming? I don't remember, now.


Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, v 2.0, Day 19

so, another day down, another day to think about poetry and the arts. Yep, just in case you didn;t know, it's also national Jazz Appreciation month, national Library month, and I think there's a national book thing going somewhere, too...it's pretty much National Awesome Month. So let's be awesome, shall we?


Waiting.
In line here, in the office there.
A stamp, an appointment,
something that resembles food.
I wait, wait for it all.
I waited for Love, once.
It came and played with me for a while,
then went about its way.
And still I wait.
Wating for what?
I don't know -

But I know it will be worth the waiting.


Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 18

Doo-bee-doo-bee-doooooooo....kind of in a mellow mood tonight, which is always interesting when it comes to poetry. I never know where my thoughts will go when I'm mellow. I've turned out some good stuff - and I've turned out plenty of bad stuff to. I'm hoping today's installment is good!!!


The water lies still,
tendrils of fog move over it,
alive and searching, grasping blindly,
looking for something to hold.
But there is nothing on the water's surface.

Soft ripples lap at the shore,
their cause unknown,
unseen through the thickening fog.

It moves about me now, obscuring the shoreline,
and I am left in my boat, wandering the still waters,
alone with my thoughts, the silence frightening and wholesome at the same time.
Peaceful and lonely,
silent and still,
waiting for the morning sun to come and take away the fog.


Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project V 20.0, Day 17

Wow - a weekend full of fun - bikes, friends, beer - simply awesome. It makes it a little hard to want to write poetry that continues with the theme of the week, but hey - if it was easy, everyone would do this thing, right? Yeah - that's my story, and I'm sticking to it!!! Besides, I doubt one poem could capture it all effectively, anyway. But how about some poetry? Hopefully, it's what you're all reading for!!


Leaves

They fall all around me,
each one unique, special,
they have all had their moments.
And now, they lie scattered on the ground.
They matter only a little now,
no shelter will they supply,
no beauty to behold.
Only memories.
I would see them still on the tree.
But I can only walk through the field of leaves.


Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 16

Part of the fun thing about April in this part of the world is that you can never tell what the weather will be like. Will it be snowing, raining, sunny, cold, hot, mild?? If you're lucky, you get a day that has all of these. Like today, when I was staning out in it all day. But I digress - let's skip all this silly talk of weather and think about poetry!

After Dark

The night settles about me,
my skin tingles against the oppression
that creeps like the morning fog.

But once it settles, the fear subsides.
There are no monsters under the bed.
The closet is barren.
There, in the black, all the secrets are revealed.

No reason is there to fear,
No cause for alarm,
No gain to be had.

The fear can be faced, now.
After the Dark has exposed its face.


Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project V 2.0, Day 15

Ok, there's a new theme for this week, and personally, I'm kind of happy about it. But there are a few housekeeping things that need to be discussed first:
1) Happy Birthday Mom!!!!! Yep, It's her birthday. She's 29 and fabulous! Unfortunately, being a themed week, it makes it awfully difficult to write something for her birthday.
2) Do you believe it? I haven't missed a day yet! Haven't have to do a two-fer because I was out of town, etc. Nothing like that at all! Not too bad, I think!

OK, so there wasn't as much housekeeping as I thought might need to be done. I can live with that. Let's get on with the poetry!!!!

The Bottom

Always looking up,
moving, fighting, sinking, pulling,
finally touching ground.
Suddenly, a firm base.
Solid. Steadfast.

It hit me, then.
Nowhere left to fall.
No hiding, no running, no games.
No slipping, no grasping, no struggling.
Just being.

There's no more energy to waste,
no more chasing after ghosts that aren't there.
No more crying, no more dying.
Just breathe.

I get to ask the question again,
it haunts me, follows me everywhere,
asking the same thing, demanding an answer -
even though the answer doesn't matter anymore.

As long as I have one.

It screams at me in my sleep:
"Who am I?"

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 14

ok, so here we are, the end of the second week, and I'm having a great time. I hope anyone playing at home is enjoying as well. Anyway - the next week, I have a little something different than what you've been seeing for the last week. See, it's all part of the master plan.

But enough of that stuff - let's get to the meat of the matter!!!!



The moonlight is cold tonight.
Staring down at me, mocking.
Once, the moon was magic,
its lustre the foundation of dreams.

But now, the moonlight's mystery fades,
its gaze holds me not,
its visage blank.
I am not moved inside.

I am dead.
There is nothing left.

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 13

Well, well - here we are on a another great day for poetry. Ok, technically, I suppose every day is a great day for poetry - even for bad poetry - but still, it is nice to celebrate a new day. With that in mind, I've got permission from a contributor to use some of her stuff on here! YAY!!!! Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, my mother:

What a Life!

Lonely, always, yet not alone,
Surrounded by lonely sisters,
All wanting a mother's love.
Comfort in faith --
God gave them families of their own;
Out of five came twenty-six,
God's blessings all.
No longer lonely, just longing.

Thanks, Mom. Some good work here. I like this one a lot.

now that we've gotten some...how about a double-dose???


There is a place I go sometimes,
it's silent there,
and I can be alone.
There, I can be safe.
Safe from the world, the crazy world.

I stay here, behind the door,
I alone hold the key.
No one comes out once they're here,
there's no reason to leave.

Here, in the dark little room,
is the placid nothingness,
is my sanctuary.


Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 12

dang it. I was going to get this done earlier today. Oops. I blame beer. Yes, it's beer's fault. Specifically, a friend of a friend needs to learn about beer. So we just HAD to teach her - it's law. So it means poetry night is a little later tonight, but I'm still going to get this in under the gun. So there!


The sad clown makes his way across the stage,
in the center ring, he stands alone,
painted smile on his face, rubber nose and funny shoes.

No one sees the pain he feels,
No one knows that when the show closes,
it will just be him and his rented trailer,
a bottle of whiskey and a too-tired deck of cards.

He draws from the pile.
King of Hearts.
The show tomorrow will have happy clowns.



A bit morose, as they have all been on the "downer" side lately. As depressing as they might be, not to worry, kids. All is well. Tomorrow, I shall have some other poems to share as well as my own.


Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 11

It's been a good day for the Fat Kid - even on the bike, and so it's kind of hard to work on the theme of this week when I've had a really good day. After all, it's not like the last few days have really been uplifting kinds of verse, yes? Well, in case you haven't guessed it - the theme of this week is pretty bleak. Just so we're all clear on this, it has absolutely nothing to do with the way I'm feeling when I write. OK? We're all good on that opic? Good. Let's hear some more, then!


The rain is falling.
I want to picture it like an old film,
where there, in the rain, two people are madly in love,
and they can't feel the water, nor do they care.
It's only the backdrop, there to force them to stay confined.
It never works.
They get wet, but they don't care.

Life used to be like that.
When no one cared about the rain,
and the water only mattered as a set piece.
Maybe it was how they could get a wet kiss in film.
Or maybe there's something special about the rain.
I don't know anymore.

I just know that it's raining,
And I hate it.
Some might tell you that it's just washing away the bad things.
The truth is that all it does is make you want it to stop,
while it soaks through your shoes.

Poetry Project, v 2.0, Day 10

It's the official 1/3 mark! not too bad. can't wait to see what the rest of the month will bring! Haven't heard too much feedback on it, but fromn what I have heard - thanks to those who have responded....even Jay, who thought that "There once was a man from Nantucket..." should be thoroughly explored. Yeah, I kinda let that one go, too. But more poetry? Why, I thought you'd never ask!


Most people haven't stood on the adge of the Abyss.
They haven't looked into the deep places,
where darkness and emptiness dwell,
where there is nothing,
not even sanity.
They have not shouted into it, "HERE I AM"
and received not even an echo in answer,
never dipped their foot in the clinging black waters that threaten to pull you in,
never looked into the nothing for answers.
Most people haven't done this.
Most people don't have a need for such places.
When you do look into it,
feel the vast emptiness, you begin to realize why you get nothing back.
Nothing already there can escape it.

Poetry Project v 2.0, Day 9

Well, I suppose that 9 PM is better than yesterday's very late update! No ado, nothing special like that...just some poems. So, here we go...


I met a man, his cloak tattered, his boots worn,
his dreams shattered, he was broken.
His back was bowed under his heavy pack,
his legs could no longer straighten,
such was the state of the beggarman.

He told me his tale,
it was full of sadness,
loss and regret were his companions,
pain and suffering were his bags.

He was a wanderer.
No aim, no goal.
No roof, no bed.
Lost.

He used no name.
None was needed.
Names are needed only when people matter.
And he was a wanderer.


THanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 8

Well, here we go...time to start getting serious about this stuff.....


The Darkness can consume you.
Everything was fine, going according to plan and suddenly,
there it was, all around me, stifling.
It's addicting.
Everything makes sense.
It's clear as anything, the solution before you.
Everything looks different,
I know the answer.

Nothing can reach you when you're in that place.
It's alone.
You put yourself there,
and you didn't know you were doing it.
But there you are, alone, knowing everything,
seeing how events must happen.

It's like seeing th end of a game of chess agains a weak opponant -
you look and see how it all plays out,
like a sick film where you're the director, actor, writer, and producer.
You get to decide what the film looks like, in the end.

The last scene is already written, but it doesn't matter.
You won't get to see it.

THanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, V. 20, Day 7

Wow - hard to believe that this is already one week into this little project. Now, for the few who told me they're paying attention, I have to say that I've had more input from my family (and quite the input it has been, by the way) than from my friends. For exaple, this came from my oldest sister:

OK, Here's my poem:
There once was a brother named Bill
Whose poetry needs I could fill
By taking some time
To write a short rhyme
...In hopes it would give him a thrill!

It does, Sis. It does, indeed.

The only reason I bring it up is because my friends were the ones who said they were excited and intrigued by this year's attempt to explore some language. Hmmmm.... So, the first week has been rather random, and pretty haphazard. I kinda wanted to do that just to get me (and hopefully others) in the mood to write, and more importantly, into the rhythm of writing. Now, it's time to get with the rest of the program. Starting tomorrow, with the second week, each week will have a theme. For anyone playing along, please do not feel YOU are required to write on the same theme. You can if you like, but I'm only writing along these themes for my own good. But that starts tomorrow.

Today? Today's my father's birthday - and so today goes out to him. There was an old anti-drug ad where a father finds his son's stash of pot, and confronts the boy, asking, "Who taught you how to do this stuff?" The son responded "From you, alright?! I learned it from watching you!" The tag was, "Parents who do drugs have children who do drugs." NOW, Dad didn't teach me THAT, of course. But he did teach me a lot of other things - Thanks, Dad.


I learned from you.

I watched him,
moving as he did, imitating,
my small frame unable to keep up, not strong enough.
He picked me up and swung me around,
universal delight.

He fixed my fishing pole once.
Taught me to set up a tent in the backyard behind the barn.
He spoke little - I think he didn't know I was listening anyway.
But He knew things, many things,
And I wanted to know them, too.
So I watched.

Years later, I pick up my nephews and swing them around,
I fix their fishing poles, and set up tents,
They wrestle me - two and three at a time,
I do not talk to them in depth, but they hang on my words.
I seem to know so much to them,
and I feel like I'm making it all up as I go.
They're watching me.

So, Dad, what do I do now?


Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project,V 2.0, Day 6

well, it's been an interesting ride thus far. I've received just a couple poems, and I won;t post them since I haven't been given permission to do so, but WOW - you have all surprised me!!

So here I sit, another day gone by, and it's time to write something, and I'm caught thinking that I have nothing to write about, nothing to say, no big ideas or important thoughts rumbling around and needing to be uttered. So what then to write about? Let's find out, I guess!!!


Arguing with Myself

Opponant equals unknown.
Ability unsure.
Better use the old standby.
I hate the old standby.
Still, it's the safer bet.
But it's not fun anymore.
But you dont want to get into a game you're not sure of.
But it's not about winning.
Yes, it is.
No, it's about something more than that.
There is nothing more than that.
What about fun?
It's fun to win.
It's fun to learn.
You were taught to play to the best of your ability.
But when I'm on my best, I'm really good.
It's not a shame - you've worked hard to get there.
But it's not a challenge.
It is for the opponant.
OK, fine, I'll sort-of play it.
Oh, please don't get inventive.
I'll start off normal, but then do something different.
I hope he does something purely expected and "blah."
Oh, shut up.
I will, after you play the old standby.


And I play it anyway.


Thanks for reading.
The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 5

Well, I finally got my act together, and am writing this at a reasonable hour of the day! Sometimes, it takes a while. Anyway, the last few forays into verse have been strictly off-the-cuff, improvisations that may or may not be any good, but there they are. It is about experimentation, after all. This next is a little different.

The Salesman

The man said to come in and sit.
He spoke of freedom and of money.
He told me it was my Right.

Privilige, to him, meant taking my money
to buy my Right.

If it is a Right, then why does it cost so?
Should I not be granted it, as a custom?

He offered me no answer to my query,
but invited me have another cup
of stale coffee served in the back of the room.

He invited another to sit in my place,
and spoke to him of Right and freedom.

My Right. That he sold to another.


Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 4

Hey look - it's working...I'm a little bit earlier, at least. Today was a beautiful day in SW PA - a little of everything weather-wise - a nice spring day. No complaints. How rare is it that you can really have a day with no complaints? I'm lucky. But enough about me, let's get to a little bit of verse. By the way, nobody has sent me anything except my friend Jen, who made up a very nice limerick to share. Thanks Jen!!!! Now, I know some people out there have been thinking about this - you've told me so. So where are those poems, people???? Remember, they're only going to get posted on here if you tell me to, or if you post them publicly.



The cool air of the evening surrounds me,
a breathy chill, moving silently,
clinging low to the earth,
a fog rolling across the ground,
herald of the chill wind.

In its embrace I find my warmth,
the comfort of the scent of spring,
newness and rebirth abounding.

I long to breathe in forever,
this course of freshness,
to revel and bathe in it,
as a man too long on a journey.

I will take it in, let it become me,
I will rise from it anew,
I will be something greater than I was,
Reborn by the cool spring air.

Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 3

OK, I have got to stop this last-minute thing! I mean, poetry is great, but rushing it usually isn't so hot. Still, a wannabe poet has to do what a wannabe poet has to do...time to get to some verse!!!


Heavy skies showed the way before me,
a horizon of light in the darkness,
shadows playing catch with lighting.

Mountains lit like sentries,
standing guard against the storm,
a safe haven for some,
treacherous ground for others.

How many fear to travel the high mountain,
to meet the sky where it reaches down to touch the earth?
Who will dare?
Perhaps one day, I will.
But not today.

Poetry Project, V 2.0, Day 2

Ahhh, the 11th hour! Maybe I'm a little late getting to publish this, but hey, it's been a long day for the Fat Kid, and even I need a break. To paraphrase Neil Gaimon (seriously, look him up, I think you'll like him if you're not familiar already) "The Fat Kid is not your bitch." Basically, even though you may demand updates at a more reasonable hour, tough.

But speaking of updates, the Fat Kid has had a lot going no in his life over the last several months, and there are some people who need to be thanked. This one goes out to two friends, both of whom were really there when I needed them. I don't telleither of you how important you have been in my life. I need to change that, and I shall start right now.

The Friend
Always there, unseen, unknown,
Lingering in the background, too often unacknowledged,
Seeing, knowing, understanding, waiting.
Patience - the virtue practiced.
Kindness - the quality silenty adored.

Until the day you need them.

Strength replaces kindness.
Reason tempers patience.
Advising, hand-holding, talking, caring,
There in the forefront, important,
Known, seen, acknowledged.

Life-saving.

The truest friend. Thank You.



Thanks for reading!
The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, V 2.0, day 1

Well, well...so it's finally here! Yep, National Poetry Month! That means it's time, kids - time to let you inner lyracist out to play, a field of words to pick and arrange upon the page! OK, here's the challenge, for those playing along and taking up the "Poem-a-Day Challenge":
1) original works only, but you can feel free to copy style if that's your thing.
2) please don't tear anyone's poem apart. It's not nice unless they ask you to do it. Yeah - that goes for me, too. Constructive criticism, however, is likely appreciated by most.
3) post a poem (or send me one) as often as you like. Once a week, just once - try it.
4) if you just want to share it privately with me, that's cool. Just let me know.
5) have FUN.

There is bad poetry out there, and many a good poet has written a metric ton of bad stuff. Yours (and mine) may be "bad poetry", but the point is to not care and explore. So please...explore with me. That being said, it's time to wear your beret and turtleneck shirt, light up a cigarette and play some bongos, ya beatnicks! Or we could just get to some poetry....

The Choice
Steel and wood, chisel and mallet -
My left holding the icy cold precision,
The warm soft grain of beech in my right -
a perfect tandem.

One strike to remove the ugliness,
swift and sure, no turning back,
the tool will decide the outcome.
In the hands of the artist, the steel cuts and digs as directed.

But the hands hold back the tools,
the imperfect remains on the piece,
The artist polishes the blemish,
working with nature's imperfection.

Finally, the artist looks at the finished piece,
seeing every choice made along the way.
The blemish is now the point of interest,
The choice was made for this moment -
And only the artist understands why.