Twenty Four Kays. A poem.

Twenty four kilometres I walked on a whim
“I can do this, no worries,” what was I thinking?
Five hours, two blisters and a sore ankle later
And I’m wondering if I should feel any way better
Was it just for my ego, or just to feel good
Or was it just for the pain, as I know that it should
And in the end, I can’t deny that which is true
Walking’s a poor substitute for being with you

.

For the full story about my little walking episode, click here.

Steve 🙂

Marathon Walk!

Today I walked 24 kilometres. Why?

I dropped off my father’s car at a smash repair place, and rather than catch a combination of trains and buses home, I decided I’d walk. Five hours and just under 24 kms later, blisters and sore legs, but not too worse for wear otherwise. Hungry, though!

Had to tell someone, as I’m a wee bit proud of the achievement. Yeah, it was dumb, but I’m not renowned for my smart decision making.

Happy walking!

Steve 🙂

Pedestrian. A poem.

I’m a pedestrian
Story of my life
Knocked down
By rushing cars
At the crossing
And crossroads

Standing, watching
Waiting for impact
Knowing how much
It will hurt
But not moving
Out of the way
I am a deer
Staring down
Interminable
Inevitability

I fall down
Blood on pavement
Get up, rise again
Slowly to my feet
Dust myself off
Wait for the next one

I’m afraid
To cross this road
I always stop
In the middle
The chicken
Who never gets
To the other side
Forgets why
He wanted to cross
In the first place

Time to trust
Faith, hope, love
To hold my hand
Like the baby
That I am
Develop some
Real road sense
And better metaphors

Good luck with that

 

Some of us run wildly through life, without care or concern for the consequences. Some of us tread cautiously, looking both ways, weighing the odds.

Some of us let our fears overcome us, and before we know it, we’re approaching middle age and still don’t know how to avoid life’s oncoming cars.

Walk. A poem.

I walk for me
I walk the lonely way
Up and down, crisply dried and crunchy
Around I go, wearing tracks in the carpet
Circuits in the yard are circuits in my mind
Endless surges of high definition creativity
Fingers make words in motion on my cell
My babies gestated, now given birth
Sweat mixing with pollen and grass seed
Each victory lap whips me lean
Until I’m spent, punished, exhausted
No need for a safe word
Feels good

 

I didn’t walk after my workout today. But I thought I’d write a poem about it, anyway.

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