I was asked today if I found it a challenge to get back into writing a poem each day. In truth, the answer is not really, because for the last 11 months, I have been thinking from time to time about poetry, and what kinds of poems I would like to write. I don't put fingers to keyboard on these ideas, but every once in a while, I entertain a few topics. When the time comes to jump back into the daily challenge, I've got a few ideas of some of the things I want to write, and now find myself with the excuse to get to write them! It's kinda nice how that works out, isn't it?
Some things, like yesterday's, are things that I see every day, or experience often enough that I can entertain them a lot. The Twi-Lite Motel is actually something I pass on my daily commute, and I often think about what the place might have been like, since the building is gone now. It's things like that, encountered regularly, that might make it into poems. Often, I don't know what the poem will look like, and that is half the fun. But the challenge of staying into the method of poetry writing beyond a week or so...that's when it gets tough. I've been stockpiling ideas for a little while in the beginning.
But that's enough about the origins of some of my ideas. I know you're only reading this so that you can experience more poetry!!! Today's offering is in honor of an old friend who is a little disheartened at the moment. Life has been less than lucky for her of late.
The Unlucky One
On the keychain is a rabbit's foot,
a silver dollar rests under your pillow,
a dreamcatcher over the bed,
thread and feathers and hoop.
Near the door, a horsehoe hangs,
over the peg that holds the lucky hat,
that leather jacket you always wear out nearby,
it goes so well with that red shirt to offset your hair.
Trinkets.
Faith in them misplaced,
trust, a thing of folly.
It is not enough to hear your worth,
it must be known and lived,
amidst the storm of denial, rejection,
that feeling that you are utterly alone.
It is the test for the Unlucky,
and those who never face it have not lived.
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
1 comment:
Ah yes, I recognize this form! The imagery is there, of course, but I'm not really quite sure where you're going with this while reading, at least until I get to the last line or two, where you insert a nicely reflective phrase, an idea, a sentence that casts the final shadow over all the previous lines. It's like climbing a Christmas tree, not sure what all the little baubles are doing amidst the greenery, until you get to the star at the top.
For those playing along at home: don't climb Christmas trees, it's not safe.
Post a Comment