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The Poets Duel


I consider myself the poet
Of historic love affairs
Not the Romeo and Juliette’s we all know
The ones mirrored in lesser history of lore
Like Heloise and Abelard
I was the king of this poetic style

Then came along the competition
He thought somehow he could outdo me
With his poems of love and historic might
Ibn Zaydun and his magical princess
This poet writing of a great poets love

I could not accept this territorial infringement
Darren, I thus challenge you to a duel
Only one of us shall be allowed to live and write
Then with a thought I had but a fright
He plays video games and might be a good shot

Hell I better come up with a better plot
I triathlon I declare, with a smirky smile
I was shocked when he said why sir, I accept with quile
I was so sure of myself, for here I would win
Till he said he picks the three events with a devilish grin

What could I say my honor was at stake
I said any events you pick are ok with me mate
And so he mapped out this contest of poetic sport
With precision and planning I was out of my sort

He said the first race will be swimming in the sea
I laughed he’s in a wheel chair this will be as easy as can be
He said our legs will be tied and weight down with a rock
Oh boy I was starting to be in shock
As I saw his arms triple my size
I was thinking he got me on this, oh what a surprise

He said the second race will be on wheels!
I bike all day so this seemed a good deal
Till he told me in wheel chairs, and through city streets
With opiates injected to make the race feel more reel!
I was starting to see a pattern emerge
Where my challenger had out maneuvered me, in every deal!

Now I demanded please the third event can I choose?
He was polite and said wasn’t the agreement
Yet he bowed and said I will honor your last request
That didn’t sound so great, for my future at best
I said ok mountain climbing will be the last of our tests

He replied yes, and asked if the mountain he could select
He even said if I refuse he'd find another for the test
Again I had to be as graceful as was he
Said sure that’s fine, what mountain will it be?

He named a mountain that I new to be very high
He said Who ever gets the top first by his own means is the winner
I said you have a deal you thief of my poetic dinners
And off we went to the mountain of poetic proportions
He said good luck and see you at the top!

Now I laughed as I got all my climbing gear in place
His wheel chair has snow tires and a few cables to thin for that rock face
Off to the top I began to climb
When I reached the summit, I was stunned not by sunshine
There he was not a bit out of breath
In his wheelchair laughing, said “guess I won this last sporty mess!”

How did you do it? How indeed?
He said well didn’t you see over there in the weeds?
Where, and what are you talking about?
He replied the tourist elevator; it goes straight to the top
But with the snow I need snow tires to maneuver up here
Now I believe I won all of your challenges
He smiled as I wallowed in my own miserly defeat

I accepted the loss and realized I was dead
I told him be fast, with that gun at my head
He laughed and he laughed and laughed some more
Put down that silly gun you have no idea what’s in store

Nervously I hesitated what has he in mind
Between his laughs, he said Abu, let’s share some wine
We both live, and breathe, with pain in our hearts
You and I shall be writing poetry forever doing our part
Our friendship you see, this is just the start
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