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January Prompt- Run

Run, run, run and run,
On feet made of dust-
You can feel your legs failing you.
You’re sinking beneath the waves,
The sky full of stars- the beasts full of envy,
You are full of everything.
You’re running through the roses,
The white, the pure. The red, the sinful.
The blue, the mournful. The yellow, the joyful.
I was alone in the winter- I will be in the summer.
I get on my knee’s to pray-
But I’m running and running and running.
Nothing is slowing my feet, my descent.
I can’t escape the grief of loss.
I go up into the clouds- to the canyons,
The brush and the love- they’re tumbling away.
I go to the forests of birch and oak,
Of weeping willows and sycamores.
My feet are on fire- my ends singed.
Hold on, hold on, hold on.
I’m at my last stand on my last leg.
A hand reaches out, but I’m running.
So I leap over the moon,
I wade through the jungles, the rivers.
I even pass an idea of death on my way,
But I continue on- I can’t stop.
I must run, run, run out of this haze,
I stop looking up and down,
To the smallest of twigs and branches and stones.
Then I trip.
And I tumble.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

No matter how fast we run we will never catch up with those on the other side until we get there too. One idea for your poem. Omit last line

No matter how fast we run we will never catch up with those on the other side until we get there too. One idea for your poem. Omit last line

no where
but in circles

nothing beyond beyond
best is u know it but won't accept it

you leave your heart and eyes
all to fire or dust consigned
where
behind
for earths consumption
and newer evolution
continuation can't you undertstand
if not hold my hand

that the others have misread your intent here. I see this as a poem about lost love. [The hand reaching out could be someone that is interested in a relationship, but you are too involved in the grief of losing the last one.] I see this as a step toward realizing that you are not as lost as you think. ~ Geezer.
.

It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

that the others have misread your intent here. I see this as a poem about lost love. [The hand reaching out could be someone that is interested in a relationship, but you are too involved in the grief of losing the last one.] I see this as a step toward realizing that you are not as lost as you think. ~ Geezer.
.

It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

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