Slow boring slog
hard work drags
rarely a fevered
exciting rush
Patience always
along the path
slow small steps
on a long journey
Wield words with
care, liberally dish
out silence save
words well prepared
I want to thank you for taking the time to read the above piece. This is a new medium for me, and any commentary you may have, I do appreciate. These are all drafts, if I ever take them further, I would expect edits as a part of the natural process.
Photo by Marius Matuschzik on Unsplash
Guilty meal constructs
Layers of adipose tissue
Built by industrial churn
On faux wood table
Global shipping lanes
Chuff black smoke path
Serve murdered stock
Half lives in dark pens
Grim path to slaughter
Modern dish and dinner
Global system shared
Too big a bite for all
A simple meal shared
Table packed with love
Take a guilty seat
Author’s Note: Poetry can have barbed language, that is intended to elicit a response. Any of my works that comment on ecology and our actions are not intended as personal attacks. It is to acknowledge that we each play a part as consumers, in a system that is older and bigger than each of us. I’m not ignorant of our individual inadequacy to solve these problems. It would take major systemic overhaul to change, but those also start at the individual level. Those changes, start by planting small seeds, which is all any of us can do.
I want to thank you for taking the time to read the above piece. This is a new medium for me, and any commentary you may have, I do appreciate. These are all drafts, if I ever take them further, I would expect edits as a part of the natural process.
Photo by Sushobhan Badhai on Unsplash
A few weeks back I had been toying with diving into poetry. Prose is where I’m comfortable, and have been in for a while. It was originally an intention of improving prose, but what I found as I started to make a daily habit of writing poetry is that the way I think about poetry is drastically different than Prose.
Structure and language are different enough that I generated over 100 poems, between daily writing prompts, short comments on environmentalism and parenting while going about my day and what has the potential to be a full poetry book with a military focus. I’m struggling to get into the prose work that has been collecting dust and just doesn’t feel right.
There is that, there may be the stressors of work, pressing in on my head. I am grateful that I can be a knowledge worker, white collar, whatever the term. Sweat pants and no commute, but there is no charge left in me at the end of the day, I’m intellectually drained.
I also think that the title of poet, which, after 100 poems is probably something I need to come to terms with, is a soft title. Ruined by MFAs, lit majors, and coffee shop gurus with beanies. I went so far as to google why being a poet is so feminine and unsurprisingly I found articles talking about how it is male-dominated. Of course, it is… Maybe I never wanted to be a part of the arts community, a grumbling old man at his desk, or sitting at his easel raging against his paints. Not while there are wars to fight or communities to build. As if accounting is anything more than a parasitic profession either.
What I do like, and I commonly eschew my own perception of a classification for its own ends, accountant and writer are not exactly the most masculine or constructive classes, is its ability to communicate in a bite size serving. Even my Horrors of War series, which is B-Movie horror at best for literary classification, it is meant to reflect meaningful issues that the veteran community faces. To serve as teach and be a point of discussion. While I continue to write within that series, I consider it a mass media point of reference to talk about tougher topics, that honestly only veterans can understand.
Poetry affords me the opportunity to have a snack sized reference to also do that, but without 50,000 or more words. I can drink a cup of coffee, consider a topic, build the scaffolding (I love that word), and then push out a poem that I’m not unproud of. It can be hyper focused, and obvious in its intention while enjoying a bit of word play that isn’t an option in the prose format.
With that said, work is pressing on me and limiting my ability to produce. Poetry has opened my options for writing and publishing, but it is a new distracting toy for me to learn. I still would rather be working outside building something, but I keep choosing not to.
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A dusty treadmill
It is haunting
A long paved road
Barking dogs
A pair of shoes
Holes in the sole
A perfect morning
Maybe some coffee
A cool afternoon
But always work
A lot of excuses
I’m getting soft
I want to thank you for taking the time to read the above piece. This is a new medium for me, and any commentary you may have, I do appreciate. These are all drafts, if I ever take them further, I would expect edits as a part of the natural process.
Photo by Jordan McQueen on Unsplash
Small hands, grasp and fumble over miniature replicas
Trucks and vans guided over the ruddy ground
Small hands, push and pull, huff and puff, strain and stumble
A tiny voice mumbles monosyllabic utterances in repetition
Small hands explore courageously to exhaustion
I want to thank you for taking the time to read the above piece. This is a new medium for me, and any commentary you may have, I do appreciate. These are all drafts, if I ever take them further, I would expect edits as a part of the natural process.
Photo by micheile henderson on Unsplash
Lead me
Lead who
Lead us
Leader
Lead her?
In the home
In our church
In our community
In our business
In our field
Overwhelming
Responsibility
Someone else
No one else
Who Else
Not the one
Someone
No one
Everyone
Be the one
I want to thank you for taking the time to read the above piece. This is a new medium for me, and any commentary you may have, I do appreciate. These are all drafts, if I ever take them further, I would expect edits as a part of the natural process.
Photo by Austin Neill on Unsplash
Words so small
fickle creatures
little mirrors
Reflect you
maybe me
perhaps us
Gusts of air
we create
draw upon
History’s well
drink deep
communal
Also, I don’t have a favorite word.
I want to thank you for taking the time to read the above piece. This is a new medium for me, and any commentary you may have, I do appreciate. These are all drafts, if I ever take them further, I would expect edits as a part of the natural process.
Photo by Vitor Paladini on Unsplash
A ritual scream rouses me before the sun
The glowing monitor and a small standing creature, with bright eyes reflect the infrared light
A ritual of diapers and bottles and hugs and babbles
Big sister wakes up. She mumbles groggy questions
A ritual of plush monsters and combat beneath blankets
Laughter and tickles rise with the sun. Big Brother soon rises too
A ritual to fade as years pass
I want to thank you for taking the time to read the above piece. This is a new medium for me, and any commentary you may have, I do appreciate. These are all drafts, if I ever take them further, I would expect edits as a part of the natural process.
Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash
Let me…
Let me work a normal shift
with normal expectations
Perhaps, normal hours
without guilt for being tired
Let me eat a normal meal
without children’s cries
teenagers battle senseless
I’ll just do the dishes quietly
Let me go to bed, a normal
time, without the honey-do
list of added tasks, and my
detailed faults, minor notes
Let me remember, that time
will wash the unpleasantness
away, to fondly remember
these as better days past
Let my week pass with
gratitude for challenges
and tender moments of
daily imperfections
I want to thank you for taking the time to read the above piece. This is a new medium for me, and any commentary you may have, I do appreciate. These are all drafts, if I ever take them further, I would expect edits as a part of the natural process.
Photo by Stefan Vladimirov on Unsplash
Gray skies
a quiet canvas
waits for golden
morning light
Dark brewed
coffee, a nutty
wisp of bitter
sipped steam
Groggy birds
chirp cracked
voice morning
chattering chorus
Busy mind a
storm of thoughts
slowly the quiet
catalogues
Before the day
wakes a brief
moment to
prepare for…
I want to thank you for taking the time to read the above piece. This is a new medium for me, and any commentary you may have, I do appreciate. These are all drafts, if I ever take them further, I would expect edits as a part of the natural process.
Photo by Artem Sapegin on Unsplash
Adam Fenner 