Marathon-edit 2 (tectak, ellijam, Bena, billy)

[tectak]

nMarathon-edit 1 (ellijam, Bena, billy, tectak)

Incline the race to love and gratefulness, Why this obtuse use of "incline"? Why not use a clearly intended word. Do you mean a hill, an intention, an instruction? Surely, as an instruction, you are saying " steer the race to..." ; if a hill "Race up the hill to love and happiness..."; if an intention " Inclined to race to love and gratefulness...". Whatever...it is convoluted english and I am still unsure what you are trying to say. If you can explain...then I will say to you, "Then put it in the poem"
that rugged roads not end in emptiness. Pedantically, plural roads end not in emptiness. Still clunky

Some run the race with body, heart and soul, repeat of race.
where spirit and mere chance define the goal. You make the metaphor paramount...but for how long?

While tasting fruits we harvest what we need, Is this from another poem? What is it doing in your metaphor. It is a glottal stop disconnect....and statementally is bald. I think...yes, so what?
though truth lay somewhere along the path we'll bleed. What has this line got to do with the line above apart from the fascile rhyme of need and bleed. Why would you, we or the path bleed? It is also wrongly emphasised and half a foot to long.You could get back in to your own metaphor something like this:
"We stop to taste the fruit, eat what we need,
forgetting in our haste to plant new seed"

In paper pants we waddle, then we dance,
then speed to our next date seeking romance. YES! Clarity! Oh Joy!

We climb tall mountains striving for the stars
and stroll seductive gardens hiding scars. Do "we (xx xx xx xxx, xx xx) hide scars" or is the garden scarred?

Behold the ripened grapes upon the vine, Still hate the pretentiously arcane use of Behold! when astounded to find grapes on a vine. Wow.
that to our lips tastes sweet like virgin wine. Still have no idea what virgin wine is. Undrunk? Once drunk, virgins do tend to scarcity.

The sunlight bright upon a face of grace,
which Eros songs of love lure to embrace. Oh  come on Loretta. Quite apart fom the jumping around of metaphorical musings (what happened to the race?)  do you mean Eros' songs? or " a song of Eros, lures a  love embrace"

Keeping pace, eternal time unfolding Horrible hackneyed cliche
our days of life are racing to eroding. Horrible synax ending up in Gerund Cul de Sac to create an easy ing- ing rhyme. Have you any idea how many words end in ing..and you chose eroding?? even "...racing BUT eroding" would be better but just as
purposeless. You are in danger of itty-bitty thinking.
Someone is chasing you, you look around;
you Are that shadow, longing to be found. What means this? How the hell did we get here?Why is are capitalised? Do you want to italicise it for emphasis? Then just type sq. brackets i sq.brackets followed by [/i]. I have to type it out otherwise it will italicise!

Escape from self, the thought, how can I hide,
when mental stress persists; my body fried. AAaarRRGGGH! FRIED? FRIED? Semicolons, tense shifts, meaningless. Drop this stanza and tell me the poem would suffer.

Cold rain beats down a long and deep dark path, 5
a bolt of lightening strikes with satan's wrath.5
But God may come to shatter that season,5 but emphases compromised
by grace, our love and gratefulness a reason.5 1/2 ...but that, and this closing stanza, is another story

hi Loretta
I would not spend any time on critting this if it were not  for your  willingness to listen and my arrogance in assuming you would listen to me
It wanders  about. It is not a marathon...it is orienteering. Your thoughts are burgeoning. Keep on route, keep on message.
Best,
tectak

Marathon
Incline they race to love and gratefulness
that rugged roads lean not to emptiness.
Though fervent flesh facilitates our need,
truth lay somewhere on the road we'll bleed.
Some run the race in flesh with heart ad soul,
where spirit and mere chance define the goal.
In paper pants we waddle, then we dance,
then speed to our next date in velvet pants.
We climb tall mountains shooting for the stars
and stroll seductive gardens full of scars.
Behold the ripened grapes upon the vine
that to our lips sweet tastes the virgin wine.
The morning sun shines on a face of grace
while Eros sings his songs to plead his place.
Keeping pace, eternal time unfolding,
our days of flesh are racing to eroding.
Someone is chasing you, you look around,
it's your shadow's desperation to be found.
Escape from self, the thought, where can I hide;
my flesh of stress resists, my mind declined.
Cold rain beats down a long and deep dark path,
a bolt of lightning strikes with satan's wrath.
But God may come, to dispossess that season,
by grace, our love and gratefulness a reason.
g.e.Kaye 3/18/15

[/b][/b]

What was that you said?