Poetry Project, Day 12

Whew! just under the gun here at poetry central! it's 11:21 PM as I sit to write today's update. Oh well, better late than never, and still, we're looking at trying to get 2 poems out to today's blog. OK, then, away we go!!

The Lovers

All is still.
Peaceful and quiet, the simple moments
where noe one cares for anything but the safety of a minimal touch.
To know the pulse and temperature of another,
so much nearer than than the other side of the marriage bed.

The love of another, more than a kiss, a touch,
more than than unbridled energy to be spent upon each other,
waiting for the flashing vision in the eye.
More than all this, is simplicity.
Peace, contentedness, grace: Love.


Cogs

A Man-machine,
drifting, drafting, spinning after another,
desperate to keep the wheel, not wanting to give in, trying to hold back one little bit,
Waiting for the man-machine ahead to crack,
Ever present, the drive, the sprint, the points, the presitge,
knowing that tomorrow, you'll wear a target,
a marked man,
legs of iron, and will of stronger stuff,
Faster and faster, the Man becomes the machine -
until there is nothing left
but the search for the next victory.


OK, these may come off a bit odd. Well, it's sort of a stream of consciousness thing I've got got going on right now. Meh. Not the best stuff I've ever put out, but certainly not the worst.

Oddly, I've found a resource that might help me out. A book on worshopping poetry!!! I happened across it as it came back into the library, and so, I just HAD to check it out and see where it leads/if there's anything interesting int it. We shall see, yes?

Hey, thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Day 11 of the Poetry Project

So, ummm...where did days 9 and 10 go? The Fat Kid was out of town again, this time to help some friends get their campground ready to open for the season. And, since these cool friends like to meet other cool people (and I know a LOT of cool people) please feel free to visit their website, and perhaps even the campground. Mention my name, and you'll start off on a good foot with Lindy and Jim, the owners. Visit them at www.campinpa.com!!!!! Yeah - I don't mind shameless plugs.

But you know what a few days away means, right?? It means we have to catch up! So, I have an option...a three-fer today, or a two-fer today and a two-fer tomorrow. I have no idea which I'll go with, but since the weekend was spent in the glory of an absolutely INSANE amount of leaves and other nature-ish things....guess what the theme of today is?

Forest Spring

Days of warmth and sunshine,
nights of snow and ice,
a desert in the midst of a desiduous landscape,
an oasis in reverse,
almost a perversion of the word,
until, as the silken night envelopes the weary,
A rebirth unto the next morning,
ready to face the labors of a new sunrise.



Echo

The forest echoes the morning Song,
piliated, tufted, red-headed - all ringing through the still naked trees.
Almost virginal, and yet, ancient at the same time.
For this - this readying, waiting, wanting, yearning, moment -
has all happened before.
Centuries of a perfection Man cannot repeat,
all continuing because it simply must.
A Song with no beginning, no end,
Alpha and Omega,
Creation.
Omega and Alpha,
A Song with no end, no beginning,
all continuing because it simply must,
centuries of a perfection man cannot repeat.
Has all happened before,
for this - this readying, waiting, wanting, yearning moment.
Almost virginal, and yet, ancient at the same time.
Piliated, tufted, red-headed - all ringing through the still naked trees.
The forest echoes the morning Song.


OK, I'm going to stop at two today, and do two tomorrow. Why? Because these two are spur-of-the-moment writings, and well, after "Echo" - I'm going to let it go for the night. See - the Fat Kid just had a strange moment: after reaching the "creation" line, I looked, and realized that with some minor puntuational changes, it actually worked. There are a scant few poetic works I want to put my name to. Usually, they all have a certain feeling attached to them, like I've reached a new plateau in training or something. I never know when they're coming, I only know after they've happened. I would put my name to "Echo".

Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, Day 8

And here we are again, kids! OK, well, I've not heard much from a lot of people, but I'm plugging on, with the realization that either a) nobody likes poetry, b) nobody cares to create it, and therefore thinks they don't understand it, c) too many lit teachers told you to read everything one line at a time, aloud in class, thereby spoiling what could have been the love of it into unabashed hatred, or d) I really suck at this, and nobody wants to tell me.

I'm praying there is no e) all of the above.

Regardless, I press on!!!!!!!

There's no "_"

Team.
A letter unseen, but oft spoken.
My word.
Thrown about casually, no one understands the grace,
the love, the need, the pressure, the joyful exhuberance.
What do we know about that?
No one has the answer,
and, even though we concentrate most on that unseen alphabet-dweller,
nowhere will he appear.
He has been lost.




OK, enigmatic at best, possibly confusing. Most who bother to read this will probably get it right off the bat, but really, this is just me being VERY silly. I don't claim this is good - in fact, I think it's kind of odd and haphazard, but I hope it leaves everyone with a smile. Just don't think too deeply. It doesn't go deep at all.

Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Experiment day 7!!!

Holy Toledo - it's been a week already! It hardly seems like it. One thing I've noticed thus far: I am THINKING about writing more often. This is important. I cannot stress the importance enough, in fact. Particularly in fiction, I find that most of my writing takes place whan I am nowhere near a keyboard - it's when I'm simply thinking about my story, the various things that need to happen, why they need to happen, and of course, HOW to make them happen.

Poetry - particularly sensory stuff - is a LOT like that, I think. It's not enough to say "the sun is bright." You have to consider what to say, how to say it, WHO says it, and why, otherwise, it's just jibberish. Not that jibberish isn't important, either...in any case, here's today's take from my jumbled-up mind. Hope you enjoy!


Left Feet

A tuneless Song is sung in the waking of the day,
a melody which cannot be heard
to a rhythm that can only be felt
in the deep soul-pockets no one talks about.

The great Dance begins,
first a bow and an empty hand,
ritual movements of invitation and acceptance,
submission to the Composer's vision.

The Promenade first,
then the Song takes hold,
expression, form, each unique to the Company.

Here, one counts to be wary of steps,
another marks the turn,
lead and follow, lead and follow,
so the floor spins on its axis.

Except for the one standing in the corner.



Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poetry Project, Day 6

The Brownlings' Day



The buds of Spring are opening-

unsure and virginal, a vibrant hue.

Plush carpets spread below broad skeletons of trees

as the breeze blows away the chaff of Winter.

Not much remains, now, of the season past,

as life returns to the Verdant Ones.

Theirs is the beauty of the sun -

theirs the briefest hour,

the colors loved by all.

Soon, again, they all become Brownlings,

but today, the Brownlings lay dying.



No preamble today. Many thanks for the comments thus far - almost a week gone in this little project, and thus far, I'm quite satisfied, and have a few ideas of things that I'm going to work on and try to perfect. Some nice workshopping ideas are coming to me.



Looking through much of the past writings, I've noticed that a lot - too many, I think - of my writing centers around "I". Not just the experiential part of the poem, but "I" actually appears in much of my past writing. I've never bothered to really look at most of what I've written.



Today's was written last week, anticipating this month of writing. I hope you all enjoy.



Thanks for reading.



The Fat Kid

Poetry Project: Day 5

Hey, thanks for the comments thus far! Not that I've had many, but the ones I do get are positive, and you have my thanks. You know who you are.

What a fine day in Pittsburgh. 74 with a slight chance of rain for the opening the MLB season here. 1:35 game time. Well, it's bright and sunny, with a nice spring breeze blowing, and I'm hoping for a Pirate win! It's hard to not be a baseball fan on a day like today!! Anyway, on to today's offering!!

I had a suggestion that I should do something with form. Normally, I am not a fan of doing this - as it always seems contrived to me. But, when I read the following words, I thought I could set them down in a decent enough way.

Tatters

Threads beat in the wind
Hanging upon one another
none could stand

Alone.

Each a seperate wire,
a patchwork of simple lines
woven together,
a simple idea their only common dye.

Freedom.

Allegiance to it is not mandatory,
but without it,

The Flag

unravels.




Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid

Poem Project, Days 3 & 4

Everyone makes mistakes, including the Fat Kid. See, I forgot that we were headed out of town for the Easter holiday, and would have no internet access for the weekend. So, today, you get a two-fer!!!! Yep, two poems, one for yesterday, one for today. Happy Easter to one and all. I hope your day was joyous, and you got to spend it doing whatever it is you like to do. Whether Christian, Jew, Agnostic, Kabalist, or even atheist - I hope you spent the day and or weekend becoming closer to whatever moves you.

Morning Prayer

I hear the morning-song of Spring;
The waking of birds to the glow
of a not-yet risen sun.
Cold clouds of life - mist shooting from flaring nostrils

I see the silver-blue sky through the canopy above.
Hues unimaginable in the spectrum we know,
Cloudless, still, and perfect.

And in all, I feel the breath of the Creator;
the breeze through the leaves,
life teeming in wild abundance.

And I am grateful to You, O God,
that I have been here to bear witness
to this, Your Majesty.



Tears

Tears are hot and first,
cooling rapidly on the cheek
as they roll to water the the ground.

How many tears must fall
until the fertile earth springs
forth anew?
until the plants grow again?

When will she no longer need to cry?



Thanks for reading.

The Fat Kid