Life is like running a marathon. We have to pace ourselves for the running of it. |
To live and run and work and love through moving, daily days. To finish for the prize Above is how His Name we praise. For nine long months a life of ease in Utero's swimming pool created hope myself would please, and others, my own tool. But with one smack the doctor broke idyllic fantasy to make me just another bloke, who runs this race for free. To eat and lie in smelliness, to live a life of sleep, exploring wonder, heart to bless, and learning e'er more deep. To walk upon these wobbly legs, to fall and bounce on bum, experience of scrambled eggs, and milk upon me some. To ride around with Mom and Dad in something really big became a joy so often glad, I fain would dance a jig. But one day when a-riding, we did stop and all got out to leave me in a strange house, See? My dance became a pout. "A nursery school for playing, Son. Goodbye. We'll see you soon." "But I don't know them. Not a one. I have not one balloon." "Just trust us. It will all be fine. Great fun throughout your day." "The spinach was not very kind, and Teacher caused dismay." In first-grade I saw fuzzy blobs upon the big blackboard, which learning they would daily rob to be most untoward. But Teacher figured out my case, "Some glasses he must have." Then, to the doctor at some place, we tested in his lab. "He's near of sight. He needs some specs, and life will better be." He gave me glasses with respect, but the glasses were not free. Twelve years of school, primarily. My courses were superb, but high school girlfriends weren't for me as often was observed. I finished school at the top of my class, yet leadership was small, but Captain of my band to pass impressive in that hall. The college years were really great in them I met my wife. Two years, almost, we spent in dates, then married we for life. The working years are varied still. A teacher, I, and salesman, too, announcing radio to fill my joy remembered, that I do. For many years no child had we, but then one day she came, for now, that anniversary, and years of her the same. A dancer, and a singing star, an actor on the stage of these gifts we see she'll go far to turn adult's new page. The days beyond her home wrought years will visit all too soon. "God, grant us strength to roll our fears upon Thy shoulders strewn. "And turn our fears to confidence in all You will create. Remold our hearts in spices minced for Everlasting's Date." In twenty years or thirty, (more?) we'll land on Heaven's hill, expansive Grace to e'er explore, and better live His will. These days of Earth are just a taste of that, which e'er will be. Salvation's Hope by heart embraced to make that Day so FREE. "Please, grant me, Lord, to see the faces of my earthly loves, surrounding You in lasting graces in Your Home Above." Open Prompt: Write a poem over 30 lines, Structured or Free Verse, on the topic of your choosing. Written for "The Whatever Contest." "The Whatever Contest -- Closed for Now" Word Count: 523 Line Count: 92 Verses Count: 23 quatrains Style: Iambic Quatrains with the occasional anapestic foot or two by Jay O’Toole on April 21st, 2021 |