FOULplay

FOULplay                         The fight of life is funny.                         With one hand secured                         behind my back,                         I rise to meet challenge.                         DING! DING! DING!                         The day has begun.                         SHMACK!                         My other hand hits me                         square in my thoughts,                         doubt overtakes my faith                         sucker punching my optimism.                         Am I out for the count?                         Bring! Bring! Brrring!                         My cell phone rings.                         I answer the call.                         It's my conscience.                         What are you going to do?                                Doom is no match for you!                         I'm headed for my corner.                         Heartbeats become less and less                         like drumbeats and more and more                         like tickbeats from a tidal clock.                         TEN! Darn it! I don't always win.                         Get up! The day is almost over.                         Round one is history.                         I roll to my side of the bed.                         Clung to the ropes of despair,                          I stare at the center ring.                         Blubb, blubb, blubb...                         I ask my pulpitating brain.                         Answers dribble down over my ears.                         A pinlight pricks my memory,                         inoculation is good for the eyes.                         A heating lamp of lazerous light                         warms caked on wounds.                          DING! DING! DING!                         I'm up again, fighting to be me.                         May the best woman win!                         Time knocks me to my knees.                         One punch at a time,                         one round at a time,                         I am transformed.                         I wrestle hoplessness,                         pin fear to my mattress.                         A shadowy hand goes limp                         from exhaustion, my heart rushes                         under the covers.                         YAWN! Yawn.                         In between time and eternity,                         I am my shadow and she is me.                         Remnant emotions of hardship,                         happiness, anger, depression                         allow me to experience foulplay.                         Struggling to rise to circumstance,                         I take the title.                         With one momentus blow,                         I raise myself to victory.I write a wide variety of subject matter and styles and this poem is only one of them. As of late, I have been trying to break free of stanzas and rhyme, my natural habitat, and am exploring the world of free-verse. Please feel free to give me your honest opinion about my poem and help in your own unique way. I keep track of those who respond to my poems so I can offer my opinions in return. :) Written March 17th, 2002 © on Mar 17 2002 08:42 AM PST   0 • 12