The Last 100 Meters (Sonnet)
By: Nicolas Abusada
A monsoon she was, the swiftest runner.
Ahead of the rest, none could ever pass
For this could be it, the loud crowd wondered,
Her final steps flowing across the grass.
But avast then came a challenger there,
Garbed in blue with her eyes as cold as ice,
Approaching, approaching, flowing through air.
Triumph within the range of grains of rice.
One realizes that life goes by so fast,
With events and parties we must attend.
Snap back to reality, forget the past,
She knows that this race must come to an end.
The last one hundred meters are now done,
Her friends receive her in the morning Sun.
Ahead of the rest, none could ever pass
For this could be it, the loud crowd wondered,
Her final steps flowing across the grass.
But avast then came a challenger there,
Garbed in blue with her eyes as cold as ice,
Approaching, approaching, flowing through air.
Triumph within the range of grains of rice.
One realizes that life goes by so fast,
With events and parties we must attend.
Snap back to reality, forget the past,
She knows that this race must come to an end.
The last one hundred meters are now done,
Her friends receive her in the morning Sun.
Writer's Statement: My inspiration for these poems are the ideas of both creative and emotional thought as well as the abstract and seemingly random that can be interpreted in several different ways. I enjoy writing about intriguing subjects in general as I believe they inspire interesting discussions about a variety of topics.