The Poetry Marathon

I don’t think the sun has ever looked so lovely as it does this morning.

It’s been a long run, but like every story, all good things must end.

So too does this marathon, the ultimate test of our skills and strengths.

Poetry has always been my weakness,

I entered this marathon to make it a strength.

Whether I succeeded or not, I realize doesn’t matter.

What’s important is that passion for the craft exceeds all.

You were my first love, did you know that?

I’m sure you did. You were always pretty clever,

even if I didn’t always act like it.

When you said yes, I was so grateful.

Then you said no, and it was like part of me died.

It’s no excuse, but if I’d know then what I know now,

Maybe you and I could still have been close.

When I lost you, I didn’t just lose my highschool sweetheart,

I lost my best friend.

Everyone told me I wasn’t good enough for you.

In a way, I agreed. To me, you were an angel, incapable of wrong.

Things are different now though, Marisa. I’ve moved on. I’ve grown up.

There’s no right or wrong way to apologize for how I acted after we parted,

If I were you, I probably wouldn’t want to speak to me either.

Either way, you’ve changed me, and if I could go back and time and change things,

I think maybe I could have helped to change you for the better, too.

They say it’s the broken path that leads to paradise.

If that is the case, I guess I’ll just have to continue being grateful to you for breaking my heart.

She stands gracefully, with skin ashy white and a dress of darkest black. The stark contrast means little, compared to her sorrowful expression. What is it that has caused her so much pain? Perhaps the black dress is one of mourning. A loved one lost, never to be retrieved again? No, perhaps not. Woven in her hair is the gold of royalty. Perhaps it is her duties and her unwillingness to fulfill them that is at fault. It is hard to imagine something so beautiful feeling so broken, and yet there it is resting plainly on her face. Do not let go, dearest woman in black. The sun will rise again, to illuminate another day for you yet.

Terror reigns in my mind.

Fear grips my heart.

There’s an enemy in every shadow.

Yet I’m all alone here in the dark.

I try to run as fast I can,

Footsteps are pounding in my ears.

I trip and fall and bang my knee,

And fight back all my tears.

I crawl my way to safety, unable to stay upright.

When at last I reach that glorious switch,

and turn on my house’s lights.

.When a journey begins, all it takes is a single step.

.     Just one. A blind leap of faith if you will. Close your eyes.

.          Don’t hesitate, because hesitation is the enemy. You’ll be fine.

.               Shut your eyes tightly and welcome your destiny with open arms.

.                    Or stay home, hide under your sheets. Either way you’re seen a fool.

This one is for those adventurers that no one sees or notices,

To the support cast,

who above all else work not for their benefit, but that of others.

We may not get the credit,

we may not get the recognition,

but at the end of the day, every Frodo needs his Samwise.

Every hero needs a hero of their own.

Tick tock,

sounds the clock, hoping for the best.

Ding dong,

rings the gong. The day is almost through.

An icy cold plunge

Beautiful reefs all around.

The current frees me.

The roll of the dice,

the flick of a card,

the beat of a heart.

Everyone knows, the house always wins.

Build your home the way you must.

Care not what others think,

because when it comes to games of love and chance,

luck always favors the bold.

• Rise up lovers. Take not one another’s hands but your love’s.
• Only then will you find the happiness you seek in your hearts.
•  A man must know the passion of being a spouse, a parent, and a lover on equal terms that their lovers are.
• After all, was that not the argument of Adam and Lilith? Was it not decided then that both must be faithful?
• No, friends. Apparently, it has not. Men have a reputation of insensitivity and a lack of passion. But,
• Come the dawn, the romantics will rise like a great wave and prove this to be false. Terrible beasts we are not.
• Everyone has someone they are meant to be with. Show the world of what sort of love we are fond.

A tribute to Ralph Waldo Emerson,

One of the truest romantics and academics in literature.

“Love’s hearts are faithful, but not fond…” – Celestial Love