Losing Face, Neither An Option Nor My Portion Poem by John Sensele

I don't cry when my well runs dry
No matter how much challenges try
To land on me attitudes that wonder why

Despite tribulation and frustration I smile
As I saunter the extra mile
To make life worthwhile all the while

When I face each problem
As a solemn claim
I dare to tame and maim

Bearding the gauntlet
In each challenge goblet
I process into a morsel of omelette

My teeth masticate
Whether fate twists and turns fabricate
Pulp in bulk I confiscate

As I soar higher
To obliterate a liar
Whose smoke in a briar

I extinguish
Mediocrity from excellence I distinguish
To put to rest any traces of anguish

Daring to face the wrath
I derive from poems I inherit from Sylvia Plath
As clarity, celerity and celebrity in my path

Address the threat
I lowly rate
In a debilitating crate

I crush and trash
Without any hint of rush
To paint my future black with an ambiguous brush

Slates of fate and hate throw at me
Pleading for me to be
The naïve hermit challengers dream they could see
On bended knees, falling from grace
In life's rat race
Where I vow never to lose face.