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
No comments:
Post a Comment