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poetry

the madness…

Hilary Swank: Million Dollar Baby

…of chasing your dreams
is the impossible knows
what can and can’t,
how long you’ve got before
the slipping tide, twists
what could have been to an ‘if’?
maybe, what would have made more sense
to settle back, relax,
see out your days watching movies, where,
from zero to hero, in five to ten, no more

Long enough to take your time,
exhale the smoke, slow, in artful curls
the bottle held, a pause, then drained away
new spirits found, dust off the old
run off the years, dawn to dusk
metered by minute by second, no sign,
of burning, cramping, splitting shins

Just bearable, a grimace, then body ripped,
shiny, oiled as new, ready to press
against the girl, still moist, the same
that walked away disgusted
been abused, they weren’t too graphic
finds in her heart the will to forgive,
hard to believe?

And, just at the end, as final ribbon tied
perfect lives, love’s turned around, like magic,
fate, serendipity, call it as you will,
but nothing like this, more measured
slow descent, the madness of normal,
ordinary, run of the mill…

Down the winding road, determined
to see it through, uphill, harder graft
the going shifts, as always
and giving up, like a wish, easy said,
easy slide, the abyss, as one false start
breathes another, yet…

, the unwashed child, malnourished
fades, its spirit leached; body to soil
and too, the uncertain gift deserves more
than just this meagre chance,
as make its case for life, yet none
the Lebanon’s orphaned stray
cards truly stacked against
you’re from the west, with all the decks
if she can make it, so can you, choose,
find your pair, you’ve no excuse.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

By cyncoed

Old & Welsh

One reply on “the madness…”

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