The Poetry Marathon

I’ve always wanted to be someone people can look up to

But when trouble rears its ugly head, I can’t do anything but watch

Even still I involve myself in others’ problems, both hers and his

Hoping to be the light that guides the lost out of the woods.

Though I’ll gladly help until I’ve had my fill,

and things seem to be looking up,

I could offer my hand, but others refuse to come with,

leaving me cold and alone, inside the icy snow.

Golden Shovel inspired by Robert Frost’s Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

There are two souls that reside in my heart.

One is the good, the man with a love for everyone.

It’s the hero, the one who believes that good triumphs.

The one who’d go to the ends of the earth for a happy ending.

The side of me that almost everyone can see.

Then there is another. He is just as much me as the first,

But still he stays hidden for fear of what may come out.

When I sleep, he moves my tongue in strange words and phrases.

He lays in my mind, tempting me to stray from safety.

It would all be so easy. Just one step and you’ll be happier.

This is the fox. He is cunning and manipulative.

Seeking sensuality in every form, so that he can indulge

In the physicality of nature. He is not evil, no.

Never does he wish harm on anyone.

But no one believes that.

And why should they?

I’ve lost him.

Today, I danced for him,

But there was another present.

His lips brushed hers,

Her hands touched him.

I’ve never seen him so happy.

They were together in ways I could never dream.

Their eyes sang beautiful songs together.

No matter the music though, I didn’t feel much like dancing.

Darkness came to my world, and like that I froze in place.

If he ever returns for me, I will be so very happy.

I will be waiting for him with bright eyes and a cheerful smile.

My heart runs for him and for him alone, and not even this stranger

Could ever, ever take that away from me. I would journey the earth for him.

But until he decides to wind me up again, my world will return to the cold darkness.

Such is the fate of a tiny dancer.

Light fills my world when he nears.

The moment our eyes meet, our song begins to play.

I dance for him with all of my heart and soul.

Though my legs scream and my lungs burn,

The fire that fills me is one of joy, not pain.

My dress twirls and twirls in time with the song,

Beneath me, the world spins as I do.

Never tired, never ending.

Then, it’s done.

Silence and darkness fall.

The music stops.

I fall still and wait once more.

Our song will play again,

And for him I will dance.

Now, and forever.

Any martial artist

Knows a fight is like a dance

Two dancers, one victor

I can stare down the most ferocious of beasts.

Ripping splinters from my hand is as painful as swatting away a fly.

Why is it then that when a woman glances in my direction,

My knees become so weak?

Is it out of love?

A natural desire for that which I cannot have?

Or perhaps, it is the emotion that all men hide.

Fear.

Fear of rejection.

Fear of heartache.

Fear of how quickly her laugh can turn from blissful to sadistic.

Such is the bane of man, such is the suffering of the soul.

Curse this confliction! The old adage is true.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”

They say history is written by the winner, but that’s not true.

History is written by the writer.

In times passed, skalds carried the songs and stories of ancestors.

In doing so they held the past.

“Never anger a bard”, says the wise man to the king.

“For every story needs a villain.

And every villain is a fool.”

Though the dragons may be gone

The princesses all rescued

And once shining armor becomes dulled and corroded

Still, heroes live on.

The live of a hero is one of passion and courage.

My soul sings for romance,

My heart beats for passion.

Chivalry may die,

But so long as I still stand,

Heroes will live on.

Hello friends.

Long time author, short time poet. As someone who strives for excellence in all things writing, this will be my first poetry marathon.

Normally, I write novels, particularly fantasy with a twist of romance. I’ve also written quite a bit of fanfiction, one of which rose to be in the top ten of its category out of over 5,000 submissions. I have a deep fondness for foxes, as the traits I hold highest are cunning, wisdom, and sensuality.

I also run a side blog where I present creative writing lessons and critiques aptly named Kiba Elunal’s Writing Lessons and Critiques. There you can find my Foxy Critique series where I analyze and breakdown novels submitted to me by fellow writers.

I’m eager to get started, and I wish you all the best of luck in life and literature.

Kiba