wimbledon 2008
enduring in dull, fading light as the sun finally sinks away…
pain flickers…
surfacing momentarily in shimmering eyes,
in a steely-set jaw
trying to smile,
regret trumps satisfaction after an epic struggle;
victory was close enough that
he feels its phantom embrace
and longs to draw it inside
where it belongs…
the distant dance mocks his sorrow
as he follows the familiar rhythm of triumph
so long his leading lady…now in the arms of another;
the vision haunts…as sorrow rips a corner
of his soul and the shudder of loss is almost overwhelming…
in the fading glow, he bows to his opponent
praising his ability and his will,
stepping aside, bending his light, as the roar of the crowd
honors the winner…
millions watch his nobility with wretched understanding….
familiar with devastation and defeat,
sensing the invisible scars and the silent tears
of the inestimable champion…
as we weep for him, we cry for ourselves;
for all of us who suffer defeat
daily in lethal doses,
we, who will never soar nor embrace perfection…
for he has carried us all in his graceful dance along baselines;
where we dig, dip, chip and slice,
creating implausible angles and breathtaking shots
with agility, dignity and spell-binding ability…
we who lead paltry lives devoid of fame and glory
cling to this champion,
shamelessly sharing his glory and fortifying our self-worth
as he lifts each trophy and gently kisses it…
if the noble spaniard who
bludgeoned his way onto center court
purloined the trophy, he will never capture our hearts
for he does not elevate or skirt the surface of lawns…
he grinds and pounds and bullies until there is nothing left
but red dust and the death of an artist….
ja allen
enduring in dull, fading light as the sun finally sinks away…
pain flickers…
surfacing momentarily in shimmering eyes,
in a steely-set jaw
trying to smile,
regret trumps satisfaction after an epic struggle;
victory was close enough that
he feels its phantom embrace
and longs to draw it inside
where it belongs…
the distant dance mocks his sorrow
as he follows the familiar rhythm of triumph
so long his leading lady…now in the arms of another;
the vision haunts…as sorrow rips a corner
of his soul and the shudder of loss is almost overwhelming…
in the fading glow, he bows to his opponent
praising his ability and his will,
stepping aside, bending his light, as the roar of the crowd
honors the winner…
millions watch his nobility with wretched understanding….
familiar with devastation and defeat,
sensing the invisible scars and the silent tears
of the inestimable champion…
as we weep for him, we cry for ourselves;
for all of us who suffer defeat
daily in lethal doses,
we, who will never soar nor embrace perfection…
for he has carried us all in his graceful dance along baselines;
where we dig, dip, chip and slice,
creating implausible angles and breathtaking shots
with agility, dignity and spell-binding ability…
we who lead paltry lives devoid of fame and glory
cling to this champion,
shamelessly sharing his glory and fortifying our self-worth
as he lifts each trophy and gently kisses it…
if the noble spaniard who
bludgeoned his way onto center court
purloined the trophy, he will never capture our hearts
for he does not elevate or skirt the surface of lawns…
he grinds and pounds and bullies until there is nothing left
but red dust and the death of an artist….
ja allen
4 comments:
oh..jaa...you are awesome... the wimbledon poem just bought back memories.....i loved it.......just loved it.....
Thanks, so glad you enjoyed it...it was a heart breaker to write. jaa
Congratulations it's a great poem :)
I felt so bad when Roger lost that final :( and then the number 1 :( but he is the best and I hope get can get both things back in 2009 :)
May I just say, thank you for writing this wonderful poem. I've only recently discovered your writing on BR and I find it utterly enjoyable. There is a place for your poems, and please do keep writing them. I love your style of writing and the fact that you write poems too :D
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