I don’t do poetry, have been afraid and intimidated by it actually. I figured though that in order to improve my writing of shories, I should attack poetry, which is hard for me because I just can’t get it all to work. Anywho, this is my first ever attempt at poetry. Just curious how people who read poetry see it. Thanks :emoticon:
The sun begins to climb the horizon
serving as the back drop to the duel
between Musashi and I.
We raise our swords and ready our stances,
mirroring one another;
Sensei and student, face to face,
in a field of swaying daisies.
Our kimonos whip into the wind
and the clouds’ shadows creep across our feet
The earth is silent.
For me, I spar for my manhood.
I spar to be respected as a warrior.
For Musashi, he spars against it.
The silence is deafening
aside from the breeze that tickles my eardrum.
My eyes never waver.
My body’s a rock, frozen like a statue.
I need to focus.
I must keep my composure.
I must not -.
He lunges forward.
I drop down, sitting on my heels.
I raise my bokken to block.
Our wooden swords collide;
a shock wave flows through my arms.
I roll to the side and jump to my feet.
Musashi is already coming again.
I side step and block his second blow.
His foot spears my gut,
forcing me to the ground.
His sword dives toward my head.
I roll away and swing at his feet.
My sword slices the daisies beneath him.
I climb to my feet as he lands to the ground.
We are face to face once more.
I leap towards him, swinging.
He blocks and counters.
I’m just fast enough to divert his sword,
just missing my side.
He lunges again.
My sword catches his in mid air.
I pull away and swing again.
We take turns, repeating it:
Swing, block, counter;
Block, counter, pull back.
Our wooden katanas dance in the air,
waltzing against the gusts of wind.
Musashi pulls back and swings.
Before I can block, he shifts his arm.
His sword pierces my ribs.
A crack explodes within my chest.
I cry out.
My manhood and respect,
everything I’ve worked for,
everything I’ve trained for,
everything I’ve devoted myself to,
was now lost.
It was lost to the man they call a legend.
It was lost to the man I fear and love.
It was lost to my sensei.