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No Fear

All the good sports          go out for a run                        into the ice storm. They grimace and squint            in the headlights of cars                        on Riverside Drive. And they run as if for their lives             in this freezing rain                         that sheathes and has broken the leafless branches             along snow-plowed bike paths;                           ice-pellets ping off          their pricy goggles, their fluorescent shells,               as they struggle north                            to the pole where they always turn back               for the Christmas lights strung                        over the porches                welcoming home                those who might have been                         men.
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Written by
mac-thom
Canada
Published
Jul 1, 2025
Lines·Words
27·86
Notes

The more I read this, the less I like it. Simply put, it's boring. I guess there's some utterly unpersuasive argument for the alignment of form and content (play-acting serious endeavours, whether polar exploration or poetry) - but it's not working for me. Close to erasing it, but hanging in there for the sake of continuity.

Tags
#shitty#poems
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