The Ecphorizer
| A Marathon |
| Paul Moore |
Issue #64 (March 1987)
I plod along
as best I can.
Thinking miles ahead.
Oh, I'll be happy
when I'm done.
If I don't before drop dead.
I've run ten miles.
I'm bushed and beat.
My legs are getting sore.
It's tough to think
I must go on
for only sixteen more.
I'm halfway home
and then five miles.
Only eight to go.
I really wonder
what I'm doing
and I just don't know.
The finish line.
I now know why
I go out to compete.
It's so tomorrow
I can brag
about my aching feet.
as best I can.
Thinking miles ahead.
Oh, I'll be happy
when I'm done.
If I don't before drop dead.
I've run ten miles.
I'm bushed and beat.
My legs are getting sore.
It's tough to think
I must go on
for only sixteen more.
I'm halfway home
and then five miles.
Only eight to go.
I really wonder
what I'm doing
and I just don't know.
The finish line.
I now know why
I go out to compete.
It's so tomorrow
I can brag
about my aching feet.
Pavement-pounding poet PAUL MOORE composed "A Marathon" while running. "Which either lends a certain authenticity or an excellent excuse," he writes. Run some more by us, Paul.
Contributor Profile
Paul Moore
Pavement-pounding poet PAUL MOORE composed "A Marathon" while running. "Which either lends a certain authenticity or an excellent excuse," he writes. Run some more by us, Paul.