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Author Name: PremiumTristan 21 Comments
Date Added: June 08, 2010 15:06:19 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Type: Rhyming
Category: Philosophy Add To Favorites | Text Only
 
The Race
 
 
 
 
 
The Race
 
~A Crown of Sonnets
 
I
 
He gazes at the mirror’s time-worn face
reflecting on the pain and silent tears
all cried in corner’s dark and lonely place,
then soaked into his dreams down through the years.
Yet life was bled long after sweat was gone
by pushing through the scars just as before
and, racing time, he plodded ever on
in search of passion’s touch and hidden door.
Within the thoughts of love and Muse’s dreams
that served to fuel his heart from day to day,
he acted well while hiding muffled screams
with painful hours now safely stowed away.
So how much faster, longer can he run?
... and does he know the race cannot be won?
 
 
II
 
O does he know the race cannot be won?
and there, on every course, a final bend –
the uphill fight will finally be done;
the world will know the race is at its end.
As he reflects on passages through time,
in mountains, valleys and the desert hours,
regrets are minimized through thoughts sublime
but love is nourishment that fate devours.
So how has he kept faith to win the race?
Contentment with his plight both day and night
through loneliness and fear he’s kept his pace,
all keys to balance life toward the right.
To not succumb to chaos in his life --
this quest would stabilize his constant strife.
 
 
III
 
This quest would stabilize his constant strife
and challenge him to tease reality,
with risks the same as toying with a knife,
he also learned to court uncertainty.
So strong but not invincible his stride,
into the arms of love he tripped and fell
and there he found the Muse his past denied,
yet in the race he ran were none to tell.
In hearing words from her, his heart would soar –
so soft her touch and thoughts... how could it be?
He never felt he had the wings before
which now could carry dreams across the sea.
His emptiness was filled, he must endure,
in order that he earn a heart so pure.
 
 
IV
 
In order that he earn a heart so pure,
his power over demons he’d display,
to show the frightened world when he was sure
that every dragon’s offspring he could slay.
In dreams he walked on her Pacific shore,
with thoughts that would this race of life defy,
but of himself to give there was no more,
and hope to she who waits is no reply.
Unheeded went the warnings to withdraw
from enemies he challenged in the race,
the dangers that his watchful Muse foresaw
enabled broken strides to keep the pace.
In storms will passion help the winds abate
while images of love win over fate?
 
 
V
 
While images of love win over fate
as life's torment seems to continue on,
then even rainbow’s bridges must await
the beauty of an everlasting dawn.
So how can reason trump a magic dream
and can reality a myth destroy?
If so, in Evil’s eye would be a gleam –
destruction of the dream – a devil’s ploy.
Does that mean certain death for fantasy
and death of wishes on a falling star?
Are we to think no more that there can be
a harmony between things as they are?
He runs the race of life for truth herewith,
to show the world reality of myth.
 
 
VI
 
To show the world reality of myth,
he must expose the truth within the lie –
that intellect alone has means therewith
to steal his heart to win, or cease to try.
From hence we sense the strength of time and love
combined with hope and dreamworld’s fantasies,
and aided by his Muse’s gentle shove
the runner speeds responding to her pleas.
Aesthetics are what drives the poet’s pen;
the Muse asserts herself to lead his heart,
while tussling with truth time and again,
his hope shines light on shadows from the start.
The rhythms of his life will ebb and flow
but if he wins the race no one will know.
 
 
VII
 
But if he wins the race no one will know
for winning life is not something to do,
and not intent on basking in the glow,
the race inside himself he’ll show to you.
The path that we see run is a prelude,
and truthful life, complete, he must convey;
the journey -- not the finish -- we conclude:
its how the race was run that’s on display.
So was he ever true to Muse’s call,
and did the scars of life explain his pain?
Were dreams and fantasy honored at all
where myths of love and life were found again?
He ponders over years lost to the race
...and gazes at the mirror’s time-worn face.
 
 
 
 
 
Author's Notes:
A crown of sonnets or sonnet corona is a sequence of sonnets, usually addressed to some one person and concerned with a single theme.  Each of the sonnets explores one aspect of the theme, and is linked to the preceding and succeeding sonnets by repeating the final line of the preceding sonnet as its first line, and by having its final line be the first line of the succeeding sonnet. With seven sonnets, the first line of the first sonnet is repeated as the final line of the final sonnet, thereby bringing the sequence to a close, and completing the "crown".
 
In this case, the sonnets are written in Shakespearean (English) sonnet form and are written almost exclusively in iambic pentameter.  The Sonnet Corona 'The Race" is written for my Muse and is about the journey of Life.  It includes topics such as: pain, faith, love, danger, hope, dreams and, in the end, the myth of reality in the journey of Life.  It is written in the third person singular (he) about the poet, referring frequently to his Muse (she/her) and refers to the second person singular (you) on occasion to address his Muse (as reader) or usually, the reader herself/himself.
 
With further questions, please message me.  Thank you for reading.  Tristan
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Comments:
Comment By: PremiumDan J. Mazurek on July 31, 2013 02:54:27 PM Report


Can I
have a signed copy for my wall?


Amazing I
believe if we could resurrect the poets of the past.


They
would say here is a poem that with time will forever last.


Comment By: PremiumHOPE on July 25, 2010 02:11:41 PM Report
Tristan

Well I might be easily impressed but I couldn't say that about all these well deserved comments and this award.  You show great mastery in writing sonnets.  This poem itself is a beautiful piece of work.  It truly stand above all.  It is surely earned  it's "crown"  Its seems to flow flawlessly, from your thoughts to pen to paper.

Tina

Comment By: FreeAdri on June 20, 2010 02:09:12 PM Report
This was a given winner from the start. Love the poem!  Congratulations Tristan!
Adri x

Comment By: FreeJennifer on June 19, 2010 11:31:58 AM Report
CONGRATS! I knew this was a winner! Well deserved ! You get 2 thumbs up from me!
*smiles*

Jen <--- LOVES THIS POEM!

Comment By: FreeThe Mystic Poet on June 18, 2010 03:21:54 AM Report
Congrats on winning the award! Well written and better said than I.

 

So was he ever true to Muse’s call

and did the scars of life explain his pain?

Were dreams and fantasy honored at all

where myths of love and life were found again?

 

I loved this !

Comment By: FreeCindy Bendel on June 16, 2010 12:45:22 AM Report
I hardly have the words to express what a skilled poet you are Tristan. 
Excellent in every way, more than worthy of any award.
~C.

Comment By: FreeMelody on June 15, 2010 07:32:07 PM Report
I didn't get to read this before,, time so limited but reading it now I can see why it's a winner congrats and well deserved :]
Comment By: Freecolin skilton on June 15, 2010 04:55:13 PM Report
Tristan what a piece of worka  man is whoops ! l think the bard would be suitably impressed by this excellent piece of work and you can be justifiably proud of the plaudits you have been given here because your work desrves them all. congratulations on being a very worthy winner.

Colin

Comment By: FreeMark Spencer on June 15, 2010 05:38:27 AM Report
Since truth is of little interest to the majority of those confronted by it (and she is my muse), I can completely understand the conflict within. I have stood upon this precipice, gazing at the world, and wondering why I care. It would be so easy to throw my arms in the air and walk away. Just let them do what they do, and if they burn...they burn. When my muse shows me the truth, I know only a handful will listen, and sometimes not even that. And yet, I keep running this futile race. But to me, truth is all there is; I love it with all my heart, and all my soul. Truth is what makes things so -- everything else is just an illusion, and that's what people embrace. They write about flowers; beauty that is here today, and gone tomorrow. TRUE beauty is forever...just like truth. And still I run...at my muse's command, ever longing for the finish line, and an end to this race.
Comment By: PremiumLinda Jo on June 14, 2010 09:27:56 PM Report
Tristan, Congratulations on the featured award!  You have placed life's journey up on the big screen with this compelling piece.  My two favorite lines..."Love is nourishment that fate devours." and "So how can reason trump a magic dream?"  I could get lost in those two thoughts alone...
Comment By: FreeBarbara Demasson on June 14, 2010 09:19:50 PM Report
"that intellect alone has means therewith

to steal his heart to win, or cease to try."...you do the Bard proud. This was a joy to read aloud, each sonnet flowed with ease--the consonance was divine. A most deserving win...a brilliant piece of work that I will definitely save in my favorites file. Ahh...at last and at last it is NOT the destination but the journey. You say it so eloquently. BRAVO!

~Barbara~

Comment By: FreeAlison Storm Wolf on June 14, 2010 04:50:40 PM Report
well done Tristan Your work is indeed praiseworthy
Alison x
Comment By: FreeSteve on June 14, 2010 01:48:58 PM Report
Very well written and certainly deserving of an award.  
Comment By: PremiumGlata on June 14, 2010 10:21:40 AM Report
What an amazing tale told in these lines! Congrats, Tristan, on an award MOST worthy!

Outstanding job...outstanding story...and I'm awed here!

Hugs...Glata

Comment By: FreesHeRi on June 14, 2010 09:55:47 AM Report
Congrats Tristian-

 

You deserve it!

Comment By: FreeLady Dragonwyck on June 14, 2010 07:23:12 AM Report
Tristan:  congratulations on the Feature Poem Award for this write.  Your usual awesome writing, sir.

 

Lady D

Comment By: FreeMoonStar on June 14, 2010 03:59:28 AM Report
OMG this is brilliant!!! Just saw it and I am sitting here with my mouth open in shock, awe and amazement.. You brought forth a piece that progressed so perfectly that I had to re-read this over and over again.. Oh to my favs is right...

 

This was so deserving an award. Congratulations dude! This was one heck of a write!

 

 

Moonie xx

Comment By: FreeJennifer on June 13, 2010 10:07:16 AM Report
YOU ARE GOOD!  NOPE GREAT!  I love how the last line in each sonnet is the first line in the next. I love the meaning of the poem. It has brought to life for me what I MUST do as a wife... to become a better wife.... Well I love this. To my favorites!
Jen

Comment By: FreeAndrew on June 11, 2010 08:42:41 AM Report
wow - this is fantastic - not only do you stick with the rules of the sonnet, but you carry it across a rich, well-developed story that not only teaches, but forces us to ask questions of ourselves (not the least of which being - "what is our race?").  I hope you plan to submit this for a featured award - for my money, it's a lock
Comment By: FreeThe Bag Lady on June 8, 2010 10:08:11 PM Report
Tristan.....The discipline that it takes for such a tapestry is vigorous, I would imagine...I love the pattern of the work, the message inside of the life as it progresses, and the structure of the changes in noun/pronoun.....Great work...

Margaret....the Baglady

Comment By: FreeAdri on June 8, 2010 04:03:01 PM Report
Outstating, absolutely amazing Tristan. I LOVE the intensity. I am in awe. The journey and the progression is so light on the page, you dare not look away. It is a feverish read because you can not stop! Your muse must be so honoured to get something so amazingly perfect from you. I am envious! :o)
Just outstandingly brilliant! A standing ovation
Adri x





 


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