24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
My discovery of words and their many properties of power and portent have been the driving force behind my search for my literary voice. Since opening the dog eared copy of "Seasons in The Sun" in 1992, and discovering the spirit of the human condition within, I've pursued my own voice; looking for it in the words of other poets and writers. It is a journey that has been both eye-opening, and humbling. Throughout my 27 year sojourn of self-discovery and realization, it's been a happy experience. I appreciate the work the Jans' have done to create, run, and promote the Poetry Marathon. It's been a great experience, and I look forward to testing my mettle in further marathons. -Martin Rodriguez Torrez; Some Poets contributor; McTowers MishMosh Media.
He fell from grace through treachery
Legendary scion of heroism
His existence made low
Fain was he
Then upon chance he met redemption
Blue eyed with hair the color of her spirit
Aflame with grit, bravery, and determination
She brings him back from the void
To face the verdant villain
The architect to his state
Though laid low in the final battle
His spirit lived on
In legendary fame
Flinn the Great
Normal can kill
Normal can maim
Normal can eviscerate the very soul
I have often heard the question
“Why can’t you be normal?”
Normal
Normale
The usual
Not outside the agreed upon parameters of what is
Acceptable
When did those two perception become
Synonymous, I wonder
I have seen death within the eyes
Of those who were told no
Because they weren’t normal
Now we are in the midst of a new normal
One that is erasing the very meaning of the word
and replacing it
With what
I wonder
Heavy are the crowns of kings
Whose mettle sings of steal
Their hearts ablaze with righteous fury
Infected by hate and fear
The conquerors soon to be conquered
Of their own design
There is no evil in the world
Beyond that within man
The spirit creation and destruction
Often named to give form to the formless
To protect the fragile ego, perhaps?
I have always believed that the nature of man
Violent
Beautiful
Incomplete
We are a lost and lonely species
Always searching, but never really knowing for what
Perhaps this means every discovery
Has been nothing more than a footnote
Of a journey
Of which there is no end
“So fortunate as to find themselves,
Even if only temporarily”
Man will wander seemingly aimless
Drunk on ambition for anything grand
Delusions of meaning
Perhaps that final solution
To the first question
Why?
A walk along the path
Searching for the perfect shot
Perfection
Midnight cups
Around the clock
Talking about
How it was
How it is
How it’ll all be behind us
One day
Between sips
Of night
And French Vanilla cream
Here’s to getting that last bit
About how we were the better men
Losing not to the dark swell
Of hate and fear
But to the shining goal of being right
Even if we were wrong all along
We were right in our persistent notion
Self-righteous in the face of self-sacrifice
We were better men because we faced fear
Without pause and without care
Without care
We faced death and coughed
Hello. I’m Martin. I’ve been writing poetry, among other things, since I was 12. I see this marathon not just as a test, but chance to connect and grow. Let us grow together my fellow poets.
Of all the things
That I could ask
A gift from you
My sweet lass
Your heart
A kiss
Eternal bliss
You at my side
My wife
My life
I owe to thee
Happiness undying
My Joanie Lee