Poetry Challenge v. 5.0, days 20 and 21

Oh wow - another two poems today!  Well, here it goes - and the week of having to write "hopeful" poems is done, at least.  I suppose, if I wanted to keep with the theme, this week's stuff should be more "victory-focused," but I think I'll just sort of see where the wind takes me instead.  A) it's much more fun, as most of the time, I have no idea where a poem is going until I'm halfway through it, and B) you have no idea where I'm going at all, so it's an adventure for both of us!!  YAY, poetry adventures!

Inward

Stop.
Peel back layers,
pulling sheets of self away
looking at the freshly exposed soft underbelly
that no one gets to see except when allowed,
and even then, it is a rarity
that I should allow it,
let you see
me.


On the Porch

Nothing is as nice,
as sitting on the front porch,
lighting a pipe, and talking over the day
with the one you love,
just there to enjoy hearing
about the other's day,
comparing notes and making plans for the future.


Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge v. 5.0, Days 18 and 19

Ummm...SO all that hope and stuff about last week being Easter?  Well, that sorta makes it a little difficult to keep up with poetry contests!  No, seriously, it was a long weekend of prepping to host Easter Dinner, and that made life quite a bit hectic.  So hectic, in fact, that I took three days off writing, and have today to make up, too!!!  That's 4 days of poems, if you're keeping score at home.  I think I'll try and spread it out over two posts today!!  I think I still have a couple hopeful poems left to write.....

The Sailor

I stood along the shores of the sea,
with sadness my companion,
until at last a boat with no owner came ashore,
there was within it one seat only,
no more could go, no less required.
And I held onto my sadness,
we tried to fit, but to no avail,
until at last, we knew it was time to part,
and I sent my sadness sailing off,
towards another shore,
for I no longer need his companionship.


Friday

It often dawns brightly,
warm air on a sunny day,
the temperatures running hot,
until the afternoon.

The clock tones the hour - three rings,
and life becomes still for a moment,
as though the entire world waits with baited breath
just to make certain it will keep spinning while the sun disappears.

Thereafter, the bright sky returns,
and real or imagined,
for me, the world stopped anyway,
and from that stop,
issues forth a renewed faith,
And it is good.

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge, v. 5.0, Days 16 and 17

After tonight's group ride - which ended up with some rather significant climbs, cobblestones, cinder paths, paves paths, playing in traffic, and dropping a couple riders (in short, just about everything you could want) - I turned on the radio as I left to my favorite radio station - the local public radio station that only plays classical music - to hear a tribute to Jewish music, as it's the feast of Passover.  It was really nice to hear something a little different than the normal things one hears.  I found it to be at once sad and hopeful, hence it's mention here.  It also inspired the first poem today.

Solo

A single note, full of want,
waivers simply in the air,
forlorn and haunting as the melody grows,
a song of loss and woe,
remembering loved ones
from long ago,
nameless faces across the generations,
that inspired a people's faith,
broke a king's will,
and breathed freedom.


Climb

The climb looks daunting and deadly,
 the turn in the middle faces the wrong way,
 it will be steeper, but that is the route.
It begins, and the rhythm starts,
turn the crank, drop the gear,
raise the cadence,
drop again,
out of the saddle and back in it.
Accelerate.
Climb.
Breathe.
Screw the turn.  Turn the screw.
Create the rhythm again,
ever climbing up,
not giving in.
Freedom is at the top.
And I will win it.


Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge, V. 5.0, Day 15

It's April 15th, do you know where your tax return is?  Well, I certainly hope you do - because those things tend to be a little important.  And, the promise of returned money usually makes everyone just a little happier - since this week is about hope, what gives folks hope like a tax refund?  I have no idea how I'm going to spend mine yet, but I'm sure that something will demand it!  But hey, let's get on to some verse, shall we?

Escape

Winter's last stand,
  a cold and snowy leftover,
  not yet ready to let go,
  even though I'm ready to leave it far behind.

I'll head to the south,
  the land of the sunshine,
  and sip cool drinks as the surf crashes
  and wipes away the castle of sand.

Away from the wrath of Winter's last gasp,
  embracing the warmth of Apollo's
  chariot as he races across the sky.


Not my best outing, I think, but they can't all be the best ever.

Thanks for Reading,

The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge v. 5.0, days 13 and 14

It's Holy Week - for those of you playing along at home, that means the week before Easter - this year, that means ALL of Christendom.  Sometimes, the Orthodox and Byzantine rites celebrate easter at a slightly different time than Catholic and and other Christian denominations, but this year, everyone who calls themselves Christian is celebrating together.  For those who do not practice this faith, it means that stores will be awesomely empty for you this coming Sunday, while we're all feasting and enjoying family.

Why is this important to the Poetry Challenge??  Well, frankly, if poetry isn't on some level a spiritual experience - whether a secular or "religious" spirit - then it means virtually nothing at all.  Gabriel Faure - French composer - was quoted as saying, "To me, (art, and particularly) music exists to elevate us as far as possible above everyday life."  It makes a lot of sense, to me, to look at poetry in much the same way.  It elevates us from the often more mundane parts of life, and reminds us that in all things, we can find beauty and hope.  We just have to open ourselves to look for it.  That is what Holy Week is for Christians - the promise of hope.  That's why it's important to the Poetry Challenge.  And that's why this week's theme is all about hope.  I...ummm...hope...you enjoy it!!

On another note - the "experts" (whatever that means in terms of poetry) say that you're not supposed to write about topics like this.  Hope, Love, and all other HUGE concepts should never be written about, according to them.  Instead, you should try and show these concepts through smaller things, moments, anecdotes, etc - because they are a) more easily relatable and b) you won't sound like a wool-headed ninny.  They have a point, of course, and it's mainly that they're tired of reading the Romantic Poets and flowery language that's really just a lot of "fluff."  Well, screw them.  If poetry is supposed to bend the rules, then that's what I'm a-gonna do!!

Dream

I dreamed I was small,
  too small to be noticed, I thought,
  as the giants fought around me,
  over me,
  threatening and ominous,
  a fate I could not escape.

The wall stretched into a corridor,
   black walls and floor, oultined in white,
   the door at the end, my only refuge.

I ran, and through the door I went,
  leaving the giants in their epic tussle,
  not knowing the outcome.

I enter a chamber,
  white walls and a blue elevator,
  I push the button - the doors open,

There She is,
  radiant light from around her
  shines upon my face and warms me,
  comforts me and brings me Home,
  Her look of mercy and love remind me
  there are no dark times.



And, because I didn't write a poem for yesterday, here's your two-fer!!! 

72 Degrees

The day begins cold,
the sun barely visible above the grey clouds,
poking through occasionally,
between the bouts of gentle spring rain.

The clouds thin,
pale yellow diffused between the puffs of water,
the pavement begins to dry,
yielding the promise of an evening on the porch,
a cigar and whiskey in hand,
a fine spring day


Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge,v. 5.0, days 11 and 12

Oops - I missed a day yesterday, but on this one, I actually have the excuse of computer issues.  Those appear to be solved now - well, at least for the time being, so it's time we get to some poems, yes?  I thought you might think so!!  I mean, really, what more think could we ask for than to have a couple of fresh poems, right?  Ok, ok, it's not like I'm Walt Whitman or anything, but where else can you go to experience this?  Probably a lot of places, really.  There are a lot of writers and poets out there, struggling artists of their craft - but you KNOW me, and maybe, just maybe, these little musings of mine will be worth something.  A guy can dream!!!


Morning

The cold caress of spring air
  envelopes me,
  holds me fast
  as the fog rolls in
  through the valley of naked trees.

Wandering, lost,
  unable to see the path,
  until the Sun
  reveals the hidden world,
  and the leaves clothe the branches.

I bask in the light,
  the warmth, my baptism,
  a new life awakens in me,
  and I can find the way home.


Morning Sounds

Sweet sounds,
     waking to the sound of birds
     chirping in the pre-dawn hours,
     the drip of the coffee-maker,
     the sound of fresh eggs frying on the stove.
I'm hungry, and it's time to make breakfast.

One serious, one.....definitely not so much!!  Well, we can't be too serious all the time, now, can we??

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Petry Challenge, v. 5.0, Day 10

Hey, cool - it's 1/3 the way through this year's challenge, and we're still going stronger than the average bear!  Now, give me a pic-a-nic basket, Mr. Ranger, Sir, and I'll be on my way!  If you don't get that reference, and you are over the age of 15, you need to go back and spend some time with your Hanna-Barbara animated television.  If you did get the reference, then congratulations, you have been paying attention!  You win the Quewpie doll.  Oh, and you win more poetry!!!  See?  You're a winner!

Salutation

Breathe.
relax the body, breathe deeper.
hands apart, legs out behind,
Breathe.
eyes closed,
arch the back,
Breathe.
recline the head,
let it go,
Breathe.
empty the well inside,
let it drain out through your toes and hands,
Breath in.
Breathe out.
In the emptiness, find your soul.
And say, "hello."


Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge 5.0, Days 8 and 9

Dang...I realized just before bed last night that I'd completely forgotten to write a poem, and, well, I was just too tired to care.  So you're getting another two-fer today!  I know - LUCKY YOU!

I received the best compliment today, from my Fiancee.  For those of you who don't actually know us in real life, we're THAT MUSHY COUPLE.  Yes, we have pet names that are so cute it's sickening, and we use them all the time.  On purpose.  The funny part is that we do this in private as well as in public - it's just who we are, and we like us that way.  BUT, when you receive a compliment that says simply, "you inspire me," it's something pretty special - no matter who it's from.  The fact that it's from the woman who will be wife kind of makes it even more special, because even after all this time, I STILL inspire her.  It makes me feel like a king.  It's good to be the king.  So, thank you, my love!!!!!!!

But, I have to get on some poems, and since that's what you're here for, let's get moving in that direction, shall we???

Hermit

I met an old man,
who from the woods came to town
once a year,
in an old flannel hunting jacket and dirty boots,
driving a 1952 green Chevy pickup.

We were in the coffeeshop,
I didn't know his name,
but he asked a lot of questions
about life, the news, who was the President,
and why did the auto repair shop close?

I knew all the answers save the last -
I didn't even know we had an auto repair shop in town.


OK, that one might make you think a little, and will probably seem a little off-beat to many.  But if my father reads it....or rather, if my mother tells him about it, I think he'll enjoy it.  Especially since I completely forgot to wish him a happy birthday when I talked to him the other day.  Yeah, my bad.

Boldog szülinapot, apu!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pacifico

The tide rises within,
a subtle force moving, stirring,
ever so quietly at first,
gaining speed, momentum,
force, power, energy, mass, weight,
tumbling over itself as the ocean,
the ability to move mountains and crush countries
without a thought to consider the cost -

All harnessed inside,
a quietness, always the calm exterior,
a slow weathering away at the shores,
lapping gently at the sands and rocks,
keeping the true nature in check.

Most cannot see it,
will not see it,
prefer to remain ignorant.

I have built the world,
and I am its destroyer.


Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge 5.0, Day 7

TWO posts in a day, how could you get any luckier???  I know - you can't imagine it either.  I can't tell whether it's that you can't believe I actually kept my word on this, or whether you're that excited about poetry...but, well, I will choose the latter, even if it means that I am purposely living in a blissfully ignorant state.  What? Writers and poets DREAM!!!!!  Duh!

Searching

I close my eyes,
waiting for that moment -
that perfect moment -
when clarity and essence are one,
and pure thought rolls out -
a vermilion carpet for perfection
to strut its little hour.

Only, the moment never comes.
I am left waiting and wanting.

I know it will come again one day,
and I will once again take up its cause,
fulfill the destiny of so many words,
and in that moment, I too, will be perfected
by the strange dance of Inspiration,
Who comes to me when least expected.

I must remain vigilant.


Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge 5.0, Day 5 and 6

Oh wow - a weekend where you're pretty much not online for one reason or another is not very good for daily challenge poetry.  And yet, I do not consider it time ill-spent.  In fact, if it were not for the ability to unplug electronically and plug in to other aspects of my life, I would find life pretty dull.

BUT, here at Fat Kid Central, we made a promise, and that is whenever I take a few days away during a challenge, well, I have to make up for it.  So it's about time I stopped all this blabbering and do that.  There will be two posts today - one for the previous 2 days' worth of poems, and another to get me back on track with today's poem!  I hope you enjoy!

The first poem stems from the fact that I know too many people, myself included, that have had to say goodbye to loved ones recently.

Split

I split words
in to sounds,
take meaning from a pre- or suffix,
and so I can not under stand
how to say "goodbye."
For "bye" - the time off,  the in between moment,
is never "good."
It hurts.
I know it is a wish,
Doomed to fail.


The Man

I used to dream of the Man -
sitting there, just out of my reach,
as though still in the womb
and not fully formed.
I knew who he was, and every step along his path,
the trials that molded his being,
even the secret thoughts in his heart,
and yet, I could not touch him.
I moved with him, and followed him
shadowed him, emulated him,
I did my best,
But I could not be the Man.
Still, I tried.
I changed my face, I changed my ways,
I changed everything about me.
But the Man was always out of my grasp,
just beyond my sight.
And then, once day, I gave up the quest.
"Enough," I said, "I can chase this Man no further."

And then the Man reached out,
took me by the shoulder
embraced me,
welcomed me,
and with a smile,
I understood just how long the Man was chasing me.


Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge v.5.0, days 3 and 4

Hey Kids -

Remember that part where I said that if I missed a day, I had to do two the following day?  Well, this is me making sure you know that I was serious about that.  Yeah...yeah, that's what happened!  Well, it's a fantastic story, and so I'm sticking with it.  If you don't like it....well, too bad.  But enough of this wasting time blathering on and on like idiots, talking about nothing whilst pretending to actually make a point that has something do with you wanting to read onward....dammit.  Here's some poems!


Buckeye Tree

A white coating of snow falls
                                     covering the branches of
                                                                     the buckeye tree
                                                                                          with just a hint of frost, the last vestiges of the fall
                                                                                    hanging
                                                                             nature's
                                                         own decorations
                                                                  ba
                                                                ubles
                                                                  all
coated in snow
       


blowing

in the wind.



Hawthorn Church

I walked through a meadow,
the cold winter sun shining down its
wan light through the trees above me,
filtering through the red-berried
glass of the hawthorns around me, coloring my world.

In this, Nature's parish,
all must come to worship,
and all are colored,
red tinctured, under the gaze of the reddened afternoon sun.

I was there, too, for a time,
and reveled in the Glory
surrounding me,
that in that season of death,
I should see the life and know beyond all things,
that Hope does not fade.


These are two images that I have seen in the not too distant past, and they struck me.  I'm not sure I did justice to them, but then, the point of this journey is that  these poems tend to be rather off-the-cuff, so it's always interesting what might happen.

Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid

Poetry Challenge 5.0, Day 2

Ahhh, so here it is, 10:30 PM, and I have yet to write today's poem.  I suppose I should get started on that, yes??  OK, since you asked so nicely, I will.

There's an old joke:  A man walks into his therapist's office and say, "Doctor, I feel depressed."  The therapist listens to him, and after some serious thinking, he says, "You should go and see the great clown, Pastorini - he's in town this weekend."  The man begins sobbing uncontrollably.  Between his sobs, he says, "Doctor, I AM Pastorini!"

The Sad Clown

Thunderous applause is to me empty,
     vacant, stopped in my ears
     like so much heavy smoke
     that clings to the room of small rooms,
     trapped, never escaping,
     staining all it touches,
     only to be wiped away by the maid.

I take a bow,
     but it is shallow,
     a hollow reminder
     of a performance built entirely on falsehood,
     receiving the false calls of those
     only wanting to escape their lives for a little while.

I exit the stage
     the theatre marquis only tells of the character,
     not the man.
     unknown on the street,
     i am nothing.

I am alone.


Whenever I hear the joke mentioned above, I wonder how the clown would describe himself and his situation.  I wonder if anyone would understand the clown, and how he would feel.  This is one take on the possibilities of it.  I hope you enjoyed!

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Celebrating 5 years of poetry!!!!!

That's right, everybody - this is the 5th Annual Poetry Challenge!!!!!  For those of you who might be new to this, here's how it works:

Each year, for the month of April, I challenge myself to write a new poem.  There are no general rules for the poetry itself - it can be any form - as long as it is published daily...or near daily, at least.  You are welcome to suggest themes, topics, etc, and I may or may not use them.  You are also welcome to play along by writing your own!  I don't ask you to write 30 poems - but even if you wrote one a week or something like that, it could be a lot of fun.  The idea is to flex those creative muscles, have some fun, and explore.  This is a journey, and I invite you to share mine.

So, why April?  It's National Poetry Month, that's why.  Why is that important?  For a lot of reasons, really.  For me, it's important because the art of poetry isn't about a political statement, or even telling a story - it's about connecting each of us, one to the other, through the use of the written word.  It's about sharing experiences, hopes, dreams, sorrows, and tragedies with each other.  After all, we have to share this world with one another, and the next life, too, if you believe in that.  It helps define our experience here on this earth.  And maybe - just maybe - someone will read it, and it may change a life for the better in some way.

This year, the poems are once again going to be all over the place in theme, and possibly style, too.  I have a few ideas, random images that have come to mind throughout the last year that I would like to explore and think about.  I hope you'll join me.  Feedback is encouraged, in all its forms - though I would prefer that if you have strong criticisms for any reason, you at least back them up.  Saying, "I hate this!" but not telling me why doesn't help anyone.  "I hate this, because the topic made me want to vomit," however, is a useful note.

So, with that, let's get on with it, shall we?

Poetry Challenge, v. 5.0, Day 1

The Box

I remember the Idea-
     a simple box, accentuated,
     filled with paper and pen,
     a gift to give away.

I thought of Her-
     and it brought light,
     a touch of pale maple,
     soft flowers in relief.

It was Her-
     hard as iron,
     softened at the edges,
     trees becoming flower petals.

It sat in Honor-
     the deskspace cleared,
     a handmade trophy,
     my accomplishment and hers.

I am humbled by an Idea-
     a simple box, sealed,
     filled with an old woman's last request,
     the gift returned hundred-fold.


In memory of Joan Claire Demer Buckman, 4/30/1920 - 2/26/2014
I love you, Grandma.

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid