Winner’s Blues (An Olympics-themed poem)

Following my post surrounding a certain Olympics-themed poetry competition I created the poem you see before you. I think it exudes a certain, trademark melancholy stamp  of mine (Or not at all?) hence the unlikely uses of “lament” and “chantry” as well as the title itself etc. Enough rambling, please enjoy…

Additionally, the legacy of 1948 refers to London’s hosting of the Olympics (for those who didn’t know, I didn’t) which arrives full circle again next year.

Finally, it should be noted that I’ve already submitted this poem. Any would-be copiers, I admire your audacity, but you can’t use or modify this (Everything else operates under creative-commons though). It’s terrible anyway. Thanks.


Winner’s Blues (Legacy of ’48)

The antithesis of sedentary

Commentators lament me

100 metres; Watch me flee

Down the track

Embrace the hackneyed: Don’t look back.




It’s a celebration of life, albeit with strife

The first place prize: What is happiness,

Without the struggle, without the pursuit?

Making off joyously with the loot is merely

Indolence and Indulgence.




Crowd’s cheer is Rhapsodic

Yet all I hear is a Requiem

As 40,000 leer

In the Chantry of the Stadium.

Rise and swell, rise and swell; Sport a Chantey.

Broken the record, now retirement.



The final sweat furrows upon the crest of your brow

You ask yourself: Does my hubris permit me to pull

One final bow?




That was London 1948

Now a late Octogenarian

Who’s met his fate

Seated at the back

Looking back



Worldwide endorsements

This one will feel resentment

Scaling new heights

Is it sportsmanlike?


Deprived of losing, Winning does not enrich the soul

The duality of your roles.



What I’m working on…

A thousand apologies (A phrase I’m hopelessly attempting to shoehorn into everyday conversation) for the inconsistency of my posts. I recently discovered a poetry competition for persons under 18, which just so happens, I am still remain a minor and eligible for the competition. Rather than regurgitate the competition badly, here’s what the Borough of Enfield’s (A borough in Greater London, of course, for those of you who didn’t know, which I currently reside) website had to say:

This competition looks for poems which are written by young people in Enfield and inspired by the Olympic Games. There are two categories:

One award of £1,000 for the best poem entered by a community group, club, school, or school class (who can provide up to 30 poems for their entry – 18yrs and under).

One award of £200 for a poem by an individual (18yrs and under).

So I’m currently in the hazy and ambiguous process of conceiving (also known as bashing-my-brains out because I’m a talentless fraud) an Olympic-themed poem. The deadline is 12th December so it’s likely that I’ll post it here so time after and there’s an even greater likelihood, I’ll procrastinate and self-critique to such an extent, that I’ll: a) leave the submission b) give up completely. I should finally note, perhaps at my peril, if someone from the Cultural Olympiad stumbles across this (Unlikely, although?) that I feel indifferent at best to the upcoming games; sport simply does not enthuse me in the same way other varieties of literature and film do. Irrespective, I’ll give it a shot.

More soon, I hope…