I saw her in the marathon
She was limber and lithe and slim
Between mallards like a swan
I had the urge to show off, to win
She glided over the London route
Like water flowing around a stone
Like an ethereal tune from a flute
I passed her, and I ran alone.
I got to the ending tape
There was a man waiting with a kid
He hugged her out of shape
Because of the time she did
Then I realized I'd run the best
Even if I felt like a dupe
Chasing that wisp, I'd beaten the rest
Of the motley crew in my age group.
Around my neck, a medal for the course
The cameras clicked, people cheered
Newspapers said I was a dark horse
Out of nowhere, I had appeared.
I saw her walking toward the park
Her husband carrying her gear
She didn't know she’d been my spark
And suddenly my head was clear.
Oh, I saw her in the marathon
A silver stream for the duration
And now that breathless day is gone
I'll take the motivation.
She was a phantom in the crowd
A beautiful, fleeting sign
She made me run till I was proud
Until I crossed that finish line.
There once was a creature from space
Who entered a marathon race.
With six feet a side,
And shoes tightly tied,
The two-leggers couldn't keep pace.
Gold Medal Marathoner, Susan Ashley
Never can be accused of acting rashly
Carefully crafts each word, line, and stanza
Wowing us with her prolific poetry bonanza!
Silver Medal Marathoner, Craig Cornish
We applaud your brilliant marathon flourish
Bespoke wit and singular vision ascend
Your distinct voice ran strong to the end
Bronze Medal Marathoner, Michael Coy
Whose wit and humor we all enjoy
A Spaniard, perhaps—yet a Welsh-British New Yorker?
Whose layered literary allusions prove he's a real corker
O Sponsor! My Sponsor! Our marathon’s undiminished
The number 1 rule is satisfied, for all of us have finished!
The rankings are clear, the comments sincere—a poets’ celebration,
While eyes peruse the final list, the roster of champions!
But O fatigue! fatigue! fatigue!
27 contests have taken their toll
In welcome repose our Sponsor chose
Three years' rest ere the next marathon roll
Just a few more minutes
Drumroll leading up to a euphoric crescendo
April marathon about to start
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
If you can muster up your heart and soul and energy
To stay with you long after they’d normally be gone
And so keep writing when it seems there’s nothing in you
Except sheer willpower that keeps you hanging on;
If you can interact with your fellow poets and keep your virtue,
Or experience setbacks and not lose your humanity;
If you seldom if ever place in the top ten
Yet continue running shunning pride and vanity;
If you can finish each unforgiving marathon mile
With determination to keep running till the end—
Yours will be the glorious satisfaction of having finished
And—what’s more—you’ll be a poet marathoner, my friend!
Half the course, half the course,
Half the course finished
Each one all in, to the end
Run the relentless
Forward the runners bold!
Charge the vic’try arch—their goal
Each one all in, to the end
Run the relentless
Challenges to the right of them,
Challenges to the left of them,
Challenges in front of them
Still they are fearless
No need to ask them why
They’ll give you no reply
Spirit you can’t deny
Each one all in, to the end
Run the relentless
I am Marathon man
Marathon man I am
Do you like
Dirt roads of sand?
I do not like them,
Marathon man
I do not like dirt roads of sand
Would you prefer them
At the start or end?
I would not like them
At the start or end
I would not like them
Anywhere, my friend
I do not like
Dirt roads of sand
I do not like them,
Marathon man
Mixed-surface races
Save your feet
Much better than
The hard, paved street
I recommend
Dirt roads of sand
Try them! Try them!
I am Marathon man
Marathon man, If you let me be
I will try them, yessiree!
(… and he tries them …)
Say! Dirt roads of sand
Do help my feet
Much better than
The hard, paved street
I do so like dirt roads of sand!
Thank you! Thank you! Marathon man
Beyond this race of aches and pain
Looms large the struggle to make the grade,
And yet the mental and physical strain
Finds me now and forever unafraid
It matters not the starting gate,
The grueling race will take its toll,
But I’m a marathoner great
I’ll master all to reach my goal
I post poems in the race
and it doesn't seem to matter
none of mine have placed
feeling bad and getting sadder
but I will keep on running
my resolve will not diminish
I'm a poet marathoner
whose number one rule is to FINISH!
Booyah!
do not go gentle into that good race
Tired muscles should burn and ache by race’s end
Run, run against the slowing of your pace
Number one if I can—maybe last—we shall see;
Either way, at the finish line I shall be.
Ready to run and spread Marathon charm
In every mile’s contest do more good than harm
Doing nothing unfair to raise any alarm
Very brutal by nature my mind can confirm,
Poetry marathoners need a cap laced with wisdom,
To grace the desired seats of battlescarred warriors,
The skillet must still burn hotter than Hades.
Surely Marathons are run with endurance and persistence,
So is this one, for my goals are lofty.
Though I lack great speed, power, and technique,
My oak must stand deep-rooted through the storms.
My drafts litter bins as torn scraps of junk,
Haters blot the ink of my masterpiece.
Negativity weighs on my frail shoulder,
Yet my resolve stands steadfast on aching feet.
But no one can deny good poems their glory.
Like smoke they escape all traps and dissipate,
Clutching throats to make their presence felt.
All I need do is write—and hope.
The songs that masterpieces sing
Are heard by the deaf and sung by the dumb.
Their rhythm washes away the dust of imperfection;
They heal the soul and soothe the mind of sorrow.
So, my pen, fill yourself with ink of perfection.
Write on this paper I lay before you—
Another poem no sponsor can deny the top prize.
Write before the last drop runs dry.
The course is lovely, hills are steep
But I need a steady pace to keep
And miles to go–I must dig deep
And miles to go–I must dig deep
Quiet as a mousie studying the route
Praying proper prep is not in vain
The best laid plans of marathoners
Might lead to disarray
Race day ending in grief and pain
At the expense of joy!
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.