 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 14:10:17 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 104381
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Get The Patient Home
[time] => 2005-08-25 17:19:53
[hometext] => Recalling the the time I ran the London Marathon years ago.I still look back and think I must have been crazy.I tried to bring about the more humorous elements of running the event in this.
[bodytext] => Morning had broken, but what about my will White sky greeted me like the sport socks in my open bag Pasta, said to be my saviour,eaten dutifully the night before Tormented my body, sat like a bowling ball heavy and immovable The fuel they recommended sealed in a lead lined frame 26 miles, who had tuned my mind to this frequency of madness ? Euphoric rush soon crumbled into realism of cold April morning Streets pounded,hours tallied, now focused on a single day Penned in like cattle nervously waiting for the start Standing by the man in the chicken suit trying to tie his shoes Proud to line up against the great, the professionals there to win Who the cameras would track so carefully, every single step We might appear on the TV screen, optimistically we waved Those who knew the drill like demented monkeys cheered Shuffling past the film crew, signs saying "Hello Mum" Another marker reached and passed as the minutes stacked against us Crowds swelled the streets, the blisters swelled our aching feet And our reward for this vicious toil not gold or precious gems One inscripted metal disk, tied to a ribbon worn about our neck Reminder of an agony,ironically still an ecstacy Carnival bands played stirring beat to the carnage in the ranks Gazelles turned into elephants, lumbering almost to a stand Thinking these are not my legs, how did they turn to wood ? Unforgiving road finally relented as we crossed the finish line In my foil protective blanket like a turkey ready cooked A rumbling train was the journey home, rattling carriages for aching bones Send for the crash team, I think I'll try to stand ! On the platform she was waiting as I held my medal high Gleaming smiles from both of us, her crippled hero hobbled on Lead me to the car I said, please get the patient home [comments] => 4 [counter] => 159 [topic] => 7 [informant] => puppy_dog_eyes [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => HumorPoetry )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com