April 23, 2014

  • I do not wish to contend

    Let's pretend for one moment that this is a contest
    each suitor vying for your undivided affection
    rendering themselves as contenders for the purse
    bending meter, rhythm and rhyme in eloquent verse

    Let's say for sake of argument that this is a prize fight
    each author battling with their wits in contention
    pretending as though they carry an incurable curse
    of deeply hurting emotions in need for you to nurse

    Would you fall for the ploy, the guise, the foible front?
    Would you swoon, put your heart in suspension
    or buckle to your knees at the lowly blows so terse?
    I would rather not be carried away in that hearse

    No. I do not wish to contend, to offend or pretend
    My heart will not send, nor vend nor even lend
    one false hope to my head, that I might fend off
    these gentle meddlers and their pennedicuffs

    I shall quietly sit outside the ring of folly and foils
    and just let my poems stir within the restless tension
    of the crowd around this arena. I will submerse
    in the jeering and cheering and nothing worse.

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