LPiA-25 Nov. 30

[Tiger the Lion]

Let's Pretend it's April - Nov. 30
Rules: Write a poem for LPiA on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a New Reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month, have written 30 poems for the month of November. (or one, or six, or fifteen) Prompts may be revisited at any time. All members are welcome.

Topic : Write a poem inspired by Crossing the Finish Line. 
Form : Any
Line requirements: 8 or more

Feel free to reply with comments or kudos as you wish. 

Questions?

[Mostly Holy]

"It's Not the Taking Part"

With final surge I cross that fabled mark,
the limit set for the race's finishing line.
All twenty six miles, across field and park,
that runs up to a line stretched ribbon-thin.

I pose for a perfect selfie, my winner's cup,
and beam proudly at my day of fun.
I check my boots for any sign of mud,
though not a single tiresome mile had I run.

Those miles of tireless effort left me leery,
so I took my car and went right on ahead.
I sit and wait for them to come, so weary,
and check my phone for weather updates instead.

While running hard is really quite impressive,
the sweat and filth has always seemed excessive.

[Todd]

Both Sides of the Line

When I was between stepfathers,
I ate on a wobbling tray
to the vacuum tube glow
of the television.

After she remarried,
we stared at our food,
forks lifted so mouths
were full when a question came.
Dinner was eyes down,
passing salt, and a plate shattered
against a wall.

My mother has been dead
for ten years.
Soon we will be the same age,
and while I remember the call
the words in fragments
I couldn’t assemble,
sound stripped of meaning
like a bleached photograph
image blurred
into someone who only looks familiar,
a voice already fading,
the way mine will fade
for my children

who sit at my table
staring at their food.

[dukealien]

Ended


Looking back from past his finish line,
he recalls his former faces, ladies
personifying Liberty, tiaras, stars
and Indians with feathered headdresses.
For two brief years he flew, an eagle–
before there came war-bonnet and his War.
Copper, zinc, steel in that second war...
and now he’s done, his race is run.
Shining penny, worth the cent it said,
expires with Lincoln:  his precision and
integrity are just too much for us.

Afterword

Now I’m not saying we should use for change–
but one-cent postage stamps exist, you know.

[jeffalot]

We all must run but none can see the end,
And time again we all will hit a wall.
The race alone must be our only friend,
We find our feet can last the longer haul.

Our pace becomes a hurdle all its own,
To dash—or trot along or stride so wide.
At times the race is run all sides alone,
And footprints in the mud our only guide.

Take or lose the lead? That is no question!
The better is to mark the miles we've grown.
Look! Our crowd—now see their warm expression,
And feel the love we always should have known.

The race goes on as time grows never tired,
So run your race and by it be inspired.

[Mark A Becker]

Where the Heart Is

The world isn't really much
bigger than this map, he said.
It is precisely hand drawn
on yellowing paper; inscribed
with detailed descriptions.
He points to places he's been;
all of them within walking distance
of the only home he's known.

His entire life, intentionally
laid out; some places highlighted,
others struck through.
As you walk beside him
on the trail by the creek
he stops, at a large old oak-
initials fading, yet clear.
He says, I always knew that girl
and I would be married.

Further up, you cross on flat stones
where the creek is shallow, winding
with the path through silver sycamores
you come to a small white church
marked with a large red heart. Behind it
a headstone circled in black. He carefully
folds the map; hands it to me, gently.
It's yours now, son-
you'll know where to find me.

[dukealien]

All excellent on this crossing-the-line day (I except myself, of course).  I particularly admire @Todd and @jeffalot here.

And to @Tiger - a grand time was had by all, but made by some.  Many thanks for officiating!