Blur

Here is another poem I wrote, something a bit more serious. This was also for my stand-up poetry class, and the assignment was to write a poem that dealt with a touchy subject without talking about that subject directly. This is actually a poem that proved to be a bit difficult to figure out completely, as it was hard to pick which details I should or should not include, especially since any details I did put in needed to also pertain to my touchy subject, race. It also involved a decent amount of research on the Tour de France, and I still think this piece is a work in process. But here it is, titled Blur.

You ask what race I am and I look you

directly in the eye and say

the Tour de France

because I like bicycling.

And Lance Armstrong, but that’s beside the point.

This race involves people

from different countries, a route that

silently crosses borders. Colored jerseys

are worn to embody distinctions but as each

person moves forward, the shades all blur;

the white, the red, the black, the yellow

all blend together until it’s impossible

to tell the difference, to separate any one

color,

 but we get so caught up

in trying to figure it out that we don’t even notice who

is passing us by.

This route covers long distances, goes over mountains

and plains, through towns and woods. The riders experience difficulties,

tension, stress, and crashes, deal with pain and discomfort and

yet

they keep going. With large hearts and a steel

will, they race, each foot pedaling forward, their wheels

circling in unison until they reach their destination of the Arc de Triomphe.

Does that answer your question?