personal narrative

Settled differences

No more than an extension of my hand, as it arcs through the air a blur of shining steel fluttering around my torso; generating momentum for the strike at my opponent. Five years I have practiced, waited, meditated, so I could be ready to face this man, so I could beat him, and earn my purple bet. I am a swords man, and this was my first duel, a right of passage in my discipline.

It starts respectfully, fellow students sitting on their knees in strait rows, on the other side master Lowell and the two highest-ranking black belts at his side. It is decided by the two seconds when each has a student who is ready to demonstrate forms, the it is up to the sensei to determine if either of them is ready t face a student of equal belt to a duel in order to earn the next color and the status along with it, if a student of equal belt is not ready then it is the option for the student to challenge the most recent student of the next highest belt or wait until a proper opponent is ready.

I had demonstrated my forms to the sensei and he deemed me ready as well as my equal, Steven, and so we began. We wore thick cotton robes to protect us from blunt force we chose our weapons they were examined by the seconds for quality then given back to us, for duels (or agnei kai’s), even though we use real steel swords they are without an edge to bring the chance of injury down, though something always ends up getting broken or bruised.
We are asked if ready by the sensei, we say yes, we bow to him, then to eachouther, take our stance, then it is a matter of who will strike first, Steven did, with a vertical strike I used a lower block nearly hilt to hilt we pushed back. I came with a lower strike, yet another block, this time from Steven, I stepped to the right and hit him in the left shoulder, which set him off balance but didn’t shake his concentration, he countered with a strike to the left leg. I moved back, it missed, he fell over. I moved in quickly to bring the end of my katana to his shoulder, but he anticipated my intent and spun a powerful kick to my right leg, bringing me down. Now on my back defending myself from his blade the screeching of steel on steel because of his acward angle with Steven on his knees. After some struggle I quickly pushed up and rolled out of his way. He then launched himself at me striking off with one leg, blade parallel with the floor. A foolish move by him, since I had the advantage of the angle. So instead of him landing on his feet I swung my right leg around as forcefully as I could and landed a hit to his left knee forcing it to buckle, so he fell, I then quickly rolled and sprung to my feet as he was landing on the ground and placed my katana at his neck, ending the duel.

I removed my blade offered him a hand to pull him up, we stood and bowed which meant I had officially won. A ceremony came after (more a formality than anything else) for me to receive my next belt. That was my only duel soon after my family had to move so I still remain at my earned status, but since then I have been fond of the color purple.

poetry poker poem

the sea will quiver before life will be delivered from the cemetary,
sharp moonlight conspires with the soul for denial,
romance is a dangerous, chaotic, stony, narrow path,
the mountain of heaven eclipses the content of honor,
stony chaos leaping through the air will conspire.

poetry poker poem

the bold woman took the air around the narrow mountain,
a wild feast of dreams over vast cliffs,
heaven morns the devoted denial of rainbows,
mystical warnings lead to immersive darkness of the grave ,
a leaping roar will feast apon the mask of honor.

poetry poker poem

the cruel glory of the storm brings chaos to the tree,
quietly the velvet fruit flips and frolics,
declare intense glory with the velvet disaster,
the storm will birth a beast that swells and frolics,
beautiful devotion will ring a chaos of delirious mourning.

poetry poker poem

the bold denial of romanticism will only deliver chaos,
the sea conspires to curse the desire of children,
in the stony cemetery the mountain cast sour darkness,
a woman will fling lyrics apon the sea and will be delivered,
and morn the feast of the rainbow and desire the cliffs embrace.

ship from the mist

We stopped in the middle of the walk. I looked out into the bay, seeing the dim lights of the apartments and the bridge through the light haze of the fog coming up from the water. I shifted my weight and abruptly heard a stressed groan; the sound of wood constantly warped by moist air, then dried by sunlight.

Captain Tory stood by my side, firmly grasping my arm and holding a lantern toward the bay. The air felt cold and moist on my cheek in the late evening, as the last light of the sun faded away through the overcast sky. There was a twinkle on the water that shifted and waved in the disturbance made when the scooner appeared in the water.

Captain Tory, with the lantern in his hand, rose his arm and held it out straight so the light was visible over the cast iron rail, illuminating the boards of the walk around us and the stones, wet from the sea. The ship ascended from the mist, pulling into the dock.

We walked over as the ropes were being thrown from the ship. As we approached, a man came down a ramp and walked toward us. When we met on the dock, he looked toward me, put his hand on my shoulder and asked in a deep, authorative voice “Would you like to know the truth?”

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