"joannie" poems
these games 2010 vancouver olympics are about performance under tremendous pressure more than they are about sport our expectations destroy us how do athletes possibly in training their entire lives cope with cameras nationalism corporate media mania? these distinguished people fallible humans with frail emotions doubts superstitions insecurities just like everyone else sustain skill phenomenal precision how do they sleep at night? carry on relationships with spouses family friends? endure eminent separateness loneliness? do gold medal winners become bloated rock stars conceited movie stars overpaid professional athletes? do losers become life’s could have been a contender drunk in obscurity casualties? what price in human terms these games? hey when joannie rochette hit ice prayer to mom i cried love watching sports this gorgeous display of human talent yet wonder about underlying meaning consequence sports or spectacle?
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 8:23 PM UTC
Wee cosy, tranquil Gatehouse Library
Ah come in quite a lot tay see yi,
Tay read yir books and use yir wifi
An' chat tay Joannie,
Sae noo Ah'm goannie sing yir praises,
Ah'm pure dead goannie.
Ye're sic' a cultural oasis,
Wan o' ma favourite learnin' places,
Yir books can form the verra basis
O' Scottish brain power,
Enrichin' minds an' cheeky faces
O' Scottish wean power.
So let us pray they never close yi
Tay those who would, we will oppose yi.
We'll be the storm an ill wind blows yi
At sic' a crunch time.
The only closin' we'll allow
Is Joannie's lunch time.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC