In the game,
it is all about applying your knowledge
on par with in math or history class,
except this time
on a court, a field, a track.
It’s about the focus, the concentration,
your determination to reach into and remain
in the zone.
It’s about enduring the never-ending pain,
squeezing out every ounce of energy that you possess,
pushing yourself to the absolute limit.
It’s about the struggle that you face,
point by point, game by game, round by round.
Your positive attitude (or lack of it)
determines every passing second.
The main ambition is to come out triumphant.
But at the end of the day
it’s not the outcome that matters.
You may have lost,
you may have won,
but putting all of that aside,
you’ve gained something more valuable:
you’ve learned.
You accept the result,
knowing that you’ve done your utmost.
And you pat yourself on the back
because you never play
at the expense of others.
Even though perhaps your opponent has.
Nevertheless, the fact still stands that
to play with sportsmanship
and lose
gives you more medals, trophies, and awards
than to play without sportsmanship
and win.
Only a true athlete may understand.
The fog surges,
the sunrise awaits.
Complete serenity,
Rain, clarity
Yearning a shift.
The vapor cascades down,
Warmth, lucidity
a place
home to a dove.
Enchanting,
Captivating
Enduring the luminosity,
letting yourself immerse,
through the fog
the rain
The city of eternal spring.
Till nightfall,
and sunset
when the city becomes viable.
Light surges from the mountains,
overlooking the beacon
Sending the reek of death beyond
the enchantment
at the cusp of your fingers
Medellin
A shocking paradise
Where dark meets outstanding light.
Acquires a feeling of intimacy
Everyone ecstatic,
Joyful
content
Lights glowing
Water glistening
enchantment
Colombia.
Pitter patter,
Pitter patter:
The soft tap of rain down the car windows
Accompanies this sticky summer Saturday of June.
Soon Mom turns left off of Cedar Street and
Pulls into a clearing enveloped by pine trees,
Five, ten miles from the nearest supermarket.
A site so secluded even the GPS
Can’t seem to find it;
A place almost abandoned with
Soiled showers and murmuring mosquitoes;
A sector hidden from plain sight
Silent because we are the only ones there.
But our annual trip still
Sparks joy in my mind,
A thrill of adventure down my spine.
As night creeps into the open ceiling and
Paints the sky a deep sapphire blue,
Stars twinkle like tiny diamonds;
Telling stories in the blank canvas of the dark
As we tell stories of our own around a crackling fire.
Knowing the trip will be over too soon, too early
We gently toast marshmallows until just barely charred,
Savoring the sweet essence of simply being.
A strip of powdery sediment on the Northern side,
Where the bay’s gentle waves are embraced;
A barricade of rocks along the Southern,
The relentless Atlantic, pounding, pounding.
Children skipping, buckets clanking,
Rushing to the sandy shore.
Colorful crystals clinking in the pockets of collectors,
Their edges softened by the swirling sea and sand;
Younger children clustering around collapsing sand palaces,
Others out splashing in the shimmering waters.
Parents packing, children slumping,
Trekking back to the comforting cottage.
The shore quiets,
Lapping waves fill the silence;
The day’s final light casts its glow,
Painting the sky a warm peachy pink.
An oasis in a vast expanse of blue.
The wind whispers on the leaves turned brown,
It’s in these woods that time slows down.
The satisfying snap of twigs underfoot,
Getting tired, the hikers decide to stay put.
As the sun sets and the temperature drops,
The conversation between the squirrels stops.
Meals are pulled out of bags and water begins to boil,
The boys sit down on logs, rocks, and soil.
Elsewhere in the world, the night has just begun,
But here the hikers get ready for bed, thinking of tomorrow’s fun.
Clothes are changed, teeth are brushed, and tents zipped up,
In the morning, we’ll eat oatmeal out of the packet, no cup!
All of a sudden, the world outside the tent is light,
The boys rub their eyes as the birds resume their fight.
In a matter of minutes, bags become fully packed,
Today will be the best day yet, that is a sure fact!
“Listen to nature,” and the boys halt their talk,
They set forth on their journey, and begin to walk.
The swoosh glistens under the sun, The shoe tongue sticks out proudly. The outsole pushes against the rubber,
As the boy soars sky high.
Yet before he knows it, Debris creep into crevices and meshes As they traverse the parquet and concrete.
They now rest in a dusty corner, Uncertain of their fate,
Feeling lost and forgotten.
Occasionally they glance over, to the new pair that occupies their old spot
On what is now A spot-less shelf
So the boy wets a soft bristles, Gently brushing away the dirt and smudges,
Restoring the shine he once saw When he first laid eyes on the shelf.
Perhaps they’ll end up in a landfill. Their meshes and fabrics Torn apart, burned,
Buried and finally neglected.
Yet as he matures and grows, The sneakers begin to age, The cherished pair becomes outdated and unfit.
But that’s okay, They have served their purpose. Memories of the summers they spent
together, Forever lives on in the boy’s mind.