The Retired Athlete

I have optimistically started a new category for this blog – poetry. I have a couple of friends who, while not describing themselves as poets, would freely admit that they write poetry. I thought it might be nice to have a little variation around the retirement theme and hence I asked them to write a poem about retirement from a poet’s perspective. Somewhat to my surprise one of them not only agreed(the second one agreed but as yet hasn’t coughed up any poem), but actually sent me a poem he had already written. Here it is written by Doug Sandle.

The Retired Athlete

His pencil had fallen to the floor,

and so he leans lazy,

a sort of bend at the knees.

His squat body folds

as blue veins trace the tiredness.

The white and stretched sinews

criss cross to lace up

the old exuberance.

Blunt fingers clutch at the pencil,

his soft hands push the floor downward,

until in free flight

the dull thud of blood

hangs heavy

in the trembling of finger tips.

 

The effort almost complete

unseen knots pull tight

and cut canals into the lungs.

Finish! The white tape snaps

as the bones crack upright.

 

A good time,

the best in recent weeks,

to the floor and back –

four minutes.