kestrel

kestrel, walking
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2019-05-16 22:17:59 (UTC)

Poem: Pretense of Living

This is a "pantoum" form poem I wrote at this evening's writing group.
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-PRETENSE OF LIVING-

It's all about putting one foot in front of the other.
Hunched over the handlebars of that dusty, steel steed,
Crisscrossing the paved and dirt tracks over our mother
When your own blood, sweat, and tears is all you need.

Hunched over the handlebars of that dusty, steel steed,
The destination is sometimes the furthest thing from your mind.
When your own blood, sweat, and tears is all that you need,
Anxieties and worries melt away, conflict and doubt left behind.

The destination is sometimes the furthest thing from your mind
When all that consumes you is how to make it up that next hill.
Anxieties and worries melt away, conflict and doubt left behind.
Fifty miles to go, knees screaming, and your canteen needs a refill.

When all that consumes you is how to make it up that next hill,
It is very easy to forget that death hangs heavy on your shoulder.
Fifty miles to go, knees screaming, and your canteen needs a refill:
The hot, dry breaths of cars, inches away, only make you bolder.

It is very easy to forget that death hangs heavy on your shoulder.
Maybe you'll make it, maybe you won't, but you won't live forever.
The hot dry breaths of cars, inches away, only make you bolder.
She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me always, she loves me never.

Maybe you'll make it, maybe you won't, but you won't live forever.
It's all about putting one foot in front of the other.
She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me always, she loves me never:
Crisscrossing the paved and dirt tracks over our mother.


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