Wednesday, June 6, 2018

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Running

Image result for global running day 2018

“Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up, it knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve. It doesn't matter whether you're the lion or a gazelle-when the sun comes up, you'd better be running.” 

“Running! If there's any activity happier, more exhilarating, more nourishing to the imagination, I can't think of what it might be. In running the mind flees with the body, the mysterious efflorescence of language seems to pulse in the brain, in rhythm with our feet and the swinging of our arms.” 
― Joyce Carol Oates

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Midweek Motif ~ Running

I am not a runner and I don't envy runners, but I certainly admire them and watch races when I can.  I imagine what it must feel like to run without my feet touching the ground, flying, faster and faster, wild and free.  

Our Challenge: To write a new poem in the voice of a runner or an observer of runner(s).


by Charles Hamilton Sorley 
We swing ungirded hips
And lighten’d are our eyes,
The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
We know not whom we trust
Nor whitherward we fare,
But we run because we must
     Through the great wide air.
The waters of the seas
Are troubled as by storm.
The tempest strips the trees
And does not leave them warm.
Does the tearing tempest pause?
Do the tree-tops ask it why?
So we run without a cause
     ’Neath the big bare sky.
The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
But the storm the water whips
And the wave howls to the skies.
The winds arise and strike it
And scatter it like sand,
And we run because we like it
    Through the broad bright land.

by John Masefield

I saw the racer coming to the jump,
Staring with fiery eyeballs as he rusht,
I heard the blood within his body thump,
I saw him launch, I heard the toppings crusht.
And as he landed I beheld his soul
Kindle, because, in front, he saw the Straight
With all its thousands roaring at the goal,
He laughed, he took the moment for his mate.
Would that the passionate moods on which we ride
Might kindle thus to oneness with the will;
Would we might see the end to which we stride,
And feel, not strain, in struggle, only thrill.
And laugh like him and know in all our nerves
Beauty, the spirit, scattering dust and turves.

a woman unlike myself is running
down the long hall of a lifeless house
with too many windows which open on
a world she has no language for,
running and running until she reaches
at last the one and only door
which she pulls open to find each wall
is faced with clocks and as she watches
all of the clocks strike


 Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community.  

(Next week Sumana’s Midweek Motif will be ~  Lust.) 


  1. Good morning, poets! So far, I think none of us are marathon runners, but what a metaphor we find in running! Good reading. Thank you all for being here. Enjoy the day.

  2. Hi ho, thank you for the prompt. My ankles hurt just thinking about running. Smiles.

  3. Thank you, thank you so much Susan.

    1. You are welcome! Good to see you, Sumana.

  4. Many thanks, Susan! I had not written a poem since the end of April, but this prompt finally inspired me.

    1. (Actually it was 'The Song of the Ungirt Runners' that did it. I have a bit of history with that! It's the unnamed poem I refer to in mine.

    2. Yes, I adore that poem! GOOD to see you, Rosemary.

  5. I enjoyed this prompt.
    Thank you so much for your ideas.

    1. You are welcome! With so much going on I wasn't sure this would fly, but here we are flying.

  6. Thank for a spirited promt today Susan


    1. You are welcome, Gillena. Have a fine week.

  7. I don't run, but I can walk. Love the prompt. I wrote my version of running.

  8. Thank you for the prompt - I decided to give it a run :)


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