The Poets Duel

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