Swirling, pulsing, and throbbing through air
came a cloud, not quite black, above my bed,
not closing my eyes and watching in fear,
Death would be easy but the cloud was my dread.
Looking closer, I viewed a darkening black spot
two thirds of the way down the visage's form.
It grew, spun, shrunk as though it were hot.
My head seemed electric as though in a storm.
I jumped from the bed wanting a fight.
The cloud backed away, I thought setting me free.
I grabbed at its shoulders holding on tight,
Saying Death take no one, but take only me.
I kicked the spot with best martial art,
thus causing the form to fold with a cry.
We tumbled to hell, there never to part.
I sacrificed life, and in hell I would die.
High atop our chimney breast,
Lives Steve Seagull upon his nest.
He’s a highly trained, bombing master,
Atop my rooftop, his name spells disaster.
If you’re like me, and live down by the sea,
You’d better hide quick, and find the nearest tree.
He thinks the seaside sky’s his domain,
And his mission is to cause both misery and pain.
Steve seagull, he dominates his space,
As you take leave of your house, of your place.
He swoops down low, he targets your head,
And ‘bombs away’ he just misses you instead.
That was his warning shot, next time you won’t be so lucky,
Next time will hit you, and you’ll be feeling all mucky.
You’ll have to return home, and you’ll then need a shower,
And Steve Seagull triumphantly returns atop of his tower.
"Ki-Ahp!" I draw back my arm like a sword,
stepping back to challenge, before bracing forward.
Like weapons meeting, grunting lips clink,
each movement controlled, bodies never link.
Roundhouse kicks swing, kumgang punches pop.
Whirlwinds can be felt with each rapid chop.
Maneuvers are blocked with reflexes swift.
From side to side, back and forth we shift.
Rhythmically flowing like a rehearsed dance,
we give-and-take with each emboldened glance.
A stern whistle blows; we wipe our moist brows,
then respectfully shake hands, after our bows.
1-16-2023
martial artist
bows to his master
attacks
My goldfish Finster Darcy
Speaks English but not Farsi
He has an education
And moral reputation
He does kung-fu better than you
He's such an inspiration.
He stands in diametrical opposition,
taking in the measures of his opposite self,
taking on the warriors stance,
that leads into the martial dance.
His pace is measured,
every breath taken at deliberate pace,
as he puts on a mask of passivity,
that is now his warriors face.
The dance begins,
the energy pools at hands and feet,
as he waits coiled for the opportunity to strike,
his steps are refined to the point of infinite calculation,
so that no two steps remain the same,
to be analyzed in the warriors game.
The coiled spring strikes out,
past the mounted and now shattered defence ,
the defender has changed his vibratory nature,
as the defender becomes the one who is on the offence.
The game continues,
as liquid flows are merging,
and the offender becomes the defender,
as the defender becomes the offender,
and the skilled might and the roll of the dice,
become the judge of the victorious contender.
master the sense of balance
spin and rotate
master weightlessness
on the head of a pin
stan sand
Karate is not only about winning, but also mastering your mind.
Date: 09/12/2015
Martial arts come in many forms
They’d studied the animals until dawn
With style and grace they master their art
From dusk till dawn they train from the heart
Fluid and free they move like water
Practicing moves that could slaughter
A highly skilled philosophy
Moving with elegance, such as tai chi
The wind you don’t see, it’s just the effect
Using their chi, with the greatest respect
Ready for action at lightning speeds
They deliver a blow with complete accuracy
Their knowledge of every meridian point
They flexibly, challenge every joint
Toning their body’s to live their dream
Kung Fu masters these ones supreme
With speed and timing precise as can be
Their talents are raw, quick and deadly
Balanced, controlled and complete in mind
These the grand masters of ancient time
One full of wisdom, courage and hope
The fist of the dragon, one might boast
As these martial arts make one to reform
It’s an art in its self, a philosophy born
© Copyright 24 January 2014
K.C. Leake
All Rights Reserved