Poetry Challenge, v. 4.0, days 23 and 24

So, I have had a complaint.  Well, more of something that was noticed than a complaint.  It seems that most of my poems are about the same length this year, though I tend to think that my writing is just as long as it needs to be to get my idea across...though I will admit sometimes, it's being stretched.  Well, that's because, with no editing, with no real forethought for most of the poems that get published on here, it's all "ad hoc."  So it seems that I just think in about the same length before I lose the thought every time.  I guess.  I dunno.  BUT, the upshot is that a challenge has been set forth to me to really do something a little more serious, and to try and conform to a little bit of restraint in form and length.  OK, challenge accepted!!!!  The first challenge was to write a poem in six lines, the second challenge, write a couplet. 

It should be known that I absolutely detest couplets, so I may or may not take that challenge.  I dunno, I feel a little less like a poet and more like some white guy trying to rap.  Having made a foray or two into that world when I was young and incredibly stupid, I try and stay out of it, as I am older and only slightly less stupid now.  We'll see on that one.


There is no Beauty

There is no beauty,
                  that hangs upon
                  the sodden earth
                  like the tresses
                  that fall silently
                  to her shoulders.

Ahh, the short six-line poem.  I normally stay away from these types of poetry because, while they are simple and beautiful, in their own right, I get rather bored with them easily.  It doesn't diminish their value, of course, I think I just like to incorporate more things than can fit in six lines.  But hey, it's an experiment, after all, so I might as well experiment away....

She runs against the night

She runs against the night,
from or to
an overbearing lover,
her deepest need a change
from her daily abuses.
Does tomorrow begin anew?

Slightly depressing, perhaps, on the last one, but then, I suppose that if poetry doesn't make you stop and think, wonder, and look at it, then it might not be doing its job. 

Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid