This one was written in 1996 for the then Olympics when fashions seem to have gotten that bit more exposed. Embarrassingly brazen. Not always a welcome sight.
Olympic Games Nineteen Ninety ***
(a reminder for 2016 Olympics too)
Forgive me God, forgive me folk,
I’ve got to make this little joke.
I’m not a girl who’s often ******
After all, I practice Yoga,
Keeping mind and body pure:
Mostly mind. But I have eyes,
And one Olympic year the sure-
Fire fashion for the thighs
And ***** were shorts exposing all.
When I say all, I mean the ball,
The bell, the ****
God, how they knocked!
And while the race was being clocked
The racers showed what Adam hid;
And while I tried to watch the race
My eyes kept dropping to that place.
I couldn’t help myself. They slid
To dingling, dangling, banging things –
Some small, some large, and all these kings
Of sport diminished in my eyes.
I didn’t wish to see their size,
For I was there to see the sprinters
And the long jump and the discus,
Knowing that they’d spent long winters
Practicing like titans. Now the viscous
Summer days, all damp and sweaty,
While the world with its confetti
Waited to exalt its heroes,
It was long, short ***** that hit my eyes.
May athletes, trainers, sponsors wise,
Fashion moguls on the rise
Remember, modesty is also prize.
Olympic Games Nineteen Ninety *** 8.16.1996/ revised 8.6.2003/revised 8.5.2016)
Our Times, Our Culture;
arlenecorwinpoetry.com/duanespoetree.com/youtube
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
This one was written in 1996 for the then Olympics when fashions seem to have gotten that bit more exposed. Embarrassingly brazen. Not always a welcome sight.
Olympic Games Nineteen Ninety ***
(a reminder for 2016 Olympics too)
Forgive me God, forgive me folk,
I’ve got to make this little joke.
I’m not a girl who’s often ******
After all, I practice Yoga,
Keeping mind and body pure:
Mostly mind. But I have eyes,
And one Olympic year the sure-
Fire fashion for the thighs
And ***** were shorts exposing all.
When I say all, I mean the ball,
The bell, the ****
God, how they knocked!
And while the race was being clocked
The racers showed what Adam hid;
And while I tried to watch the race
My eyes kept dropping to that place.
I couldn’t help myself. They slid
To dingling, dangling, banging things –
Some small, some large, and all these kings
Of sport diminished in my eyes.
I didn’t wish to see their size,
For I was there to see the sprinters
And the long jump and the discus,
Knowing that they’d spent long winters
Practicing like titans. Now the viscous
Summer days, all damp and sweaty,
While the world with its confetti
Waited to exalt its heroes,
It was long, short ***** that hit my eyes.
May athletes, trainers, sponsors wise,
Fashion moguls on the rise
Remember, modesty is also prize.
Olympic Games Nineteen Ninety *** 8.16.1996/ revised 8.6.2003/revised 8.5.2016)
Our Times, Our Culture;
arlenecorwinpoetry.com/duanespoetree.com/youtube