Battle Or Ground Poem by Andrea Myinga

A standing of a battle on a ground,
To a maximum of a battleground,
Delude itself to a minimum of death

Earth stands far from illusive face,
Running out of breath, with truth
Fitting into feet of elusiveness,

Positioned on its marks and set,
To sprint along a tracked lane,
Winning against wind and time

Back in time, now called ancient,
All races caught greyish hair,
Vain is a trophy before a tap line,

In awe are faces fore wrinkled,
Over a champion named overall,
Once as an irony, the moniker used

Traces have won legs so young,
Curious to reach heights of proof,
Ascending mountains and valleys

Lined frontliners are sources,
Showing strength of the day,
The day conquered tomorrow

Its myth is over and over,
On a sun-up each day is today.