The Poetry Marathon

My Zombie Friend

Step 1

My name is Emily Marie Lynn McGoo
I’ll tell you a story, I promise it’s true.
I used to get teased at my school each day,
Before my new friend chased the bullies away.
He’s never too busy to play hide and seek,
Or to help me go fishing in Hannigan’s Creek.
I’m afraid that my Mother will send him away,
Can he sleep at your house? Well, what do you say?
He won’t be much trouble, I’ll keep him in line,
If you keep your dog hidden, it will all be just fine.

Step 2

My name is Emily Marie Lynn McGoo
I’ll tell you a story, I promise it’s true.
I used to get teased at my school each day,
Before my new friend chased the bullies away.
He’s never too busy to play hide and seek,
Or to help me go fishing in Hannigan’s Creek.
We might go to the park, or spin in the sun,
Or I braid his armpits, now THAT is some fun!
The only thing is, when it’s time for a treat,
He always wants terribly gross things to eat.
At first it was mud pies and boogers and stuff.
Then he ate some worms, but that wasn’t enough.
He ate my friend’s dog, and a whole flock of geese,
And my big sister Sarah (he said she was a feast!)
I’m afraid that my Mother will send him away,
Can he sleep at your house? Well, what do you say?
He won’t be much trouble, I’ll keep him in line,
If you keep your dog hidden, it will all be just fine.
Oh wait! Never mind, Mom’s no longer a care,
I’m sure it’s okay – all that’s left is her hair!

Step 3

My name is Emily Marie Lynn McGoo
I’ll tell you a story, I promise it’s true.
I used to get teased at my school each day,
Before my new friend chased the bullies away.
The only thing is, when it’s time for a treat,
He always wants terribly gross things to eat.
He ate my friend’s dog, and a whole flock of geese,
And my big sister Sarah (he said she was a feast!)
I’m afraid that my Mother will send him away,
Can he sleep at your house? Well, what do you say?
Oh wait! Never mind, Mom’s no longer a care,
I’m sure it’s okay – all that’s left is her hair!

Before Darkness

Before darkness can bring about the night
And steal the world’s colors from your sight,
Paint all your memories in vivid hues
To play and then rewind, if you should choose
And in your dreams, keep all the colors bright.

You cannot halt the fading of the light,
Or still your heart when shadows give a fright.
You must decide what defense you will use,
Before darkness.

Your darkened fear will offer no respite
And simple courage will have taken flight.
The strongest men, their battles sometimes lose,
But when you want to hide, you must refuse
And hold close in your heart, the days delight
Before darkness.

I Watch Her Grow – Part 1

My child, it seems your journey’s now begun;
I pray your choices are better than mine.
You’re not alone, I’ll help you walk that line,
For in my dreary world you are the sun.

Sometimes in life you’ll need to walk, not run.
Slow down and look ahead to read the signs,
But never stop, keep moving all the time –
And never hesitate to have some fun.

I’ve tried, as you have grown, to teach you things
And always be a member of your team;
Believe in flight, then boldly spread your wings.

Your childhood’s gone by faster than it seems,
And though they’re cut, I’ll always keep the strings.
With faith, sweet child, go after all your dreams.

A Shrouded Path

In solitude, I roamed a shrouded path
as misty fog devoured every sound,
a victim of my fears and heaven’s wrath.

Deep in my heart dwelt pain, carefully bound,
which drove my feet further into the gray
as if enlightenment could there be found.

I neared a spectral tree and stopped to pray;
for answer there came naught but silent gloom.
In anger, I had cast my faith away.

To lose them both before new life could bloom
Did flood my soul with grief’s poisonous bath.
The silent fog had verified my doom.

Avoiding all the pain my heart now hath,
In solitude, I roamed a shrouded path.

Greeting fellow word-wranglers. Allow me to introduce myself. I am a novelist by trade, a full-time father and grandfather, and a poet at heart. I am an award-winning contributing member of the Society of Classical Poets, and love reading poetry as well as writing it.

As a poet, I am very much old-school. I don’t do much free-verse, preferring the discipline and lyrical quality of structured, metered forms. My heroes are Frost, Thomas, Poe and Whitman – although my style is closer to Poe’s than anyone else’s.

As a metered verse poet, I love to explore the classical forms. From villanelles to rondeau redoubles, from coronas and crowns of sonnets to sestinas, from terza rimas to pantoums, I love writing and stretching the limits of metered rhyme.

I tend to write a lot of iambic poetry, and like the Bard, I usually end up in pentameter (the length and pattern appeals to my inner minstrel) — but trochaic or even anapestic feet can also be a lot of fun.

I enjoy writing across all genres, and often challenge myself to do poetry in different ways. One of my favorite genre-poems tells a western Gunslinger’s story in a thirty-nine line sestina – and I love to write Gothic horror.

Since the day I read E.A.P.’s The Raven as a child, the narrative tale in metered form has been my greatest thrill. My first ever published poem was done as a tribute to this epic story, and was written in catalectic trochaic octameter, using the Raven’s back-beat cadence as it’s driving heartbeat.

I hope to get to meet some of you who enjoy classic poetry as much as I do, and am looking forward to the marathon.