Chasing Down Poems Like An Olympic Sprinter Poem by Terence George Craddock

when I was in my twenties
I used to chase down poems
like an Olympic sprinter

Usain Bolt had not been born yet
I was still the fastest kid on the block
smoking hot in truth passing Forest

Gump in shadow like he was almost
standing still in the slow slow lane
my eldest daughter Kayla does not

believe me a one hundred yards
dash in lightening under 10 seconds
check muscle tone form in sprint

hurdles long jump high jump
I am in event throwing javelin now
even in the pool I made a splash

high dive into deep end
those were the great
glory youth days when

I climbed mountains so high
all I needed was a ladder
to reach the moon and it was

so cold as soon as I spoke
breath turned into an icicle
so I had to build a fire

snap off the icicle and melt
it in a fire just to hear what
I had said yes friend this is

all hype hyperbole

now I am old not so fast
I chase down poems at moderate
speed a brisk walking pace

perhaps watching TV in the shower
mainly in a chair relaxed at my repose
even lying down at sleep time rest

a poem might try to pillow talk
me into writing but I slumber resist
there are a few wake up poems

brushing teeth poems
on the toilet poems
catching a few lines

yes I do write
anywhere anywhere
poems poems

no nothing drab shitty
sharp crisp or mist lines
intellectual or pretty