Let's all celebrate
Motivate and innovate
Let's all have incredible fun
The one that will last more than a lifetime
Every four years, it is that time
Again and again, let's us sprint, jump, run
Like happy rabbits, like flying cheetahs
Let's us enjoy all sports and the hoopla
Let's witness and win the gold medals
Many records will be broken
It is about doing our best and to have fun
Let's bring the torch, the flowers and the petals
Let's bring the doves, the love and the sandals
These are the Olympics, let's unite forever
And laugh all the way to the river
The bikers are coming, the rowers are here
Let's have the party of the century
Let's watch the volleyball players
Invite the drunkards and the smokers
Who are already sadly out of breath
Let's pray that they don't see an early death
Let's win the medals
And decorate the stadiums with lights and petals
May the world remain beautiful
Where there are no weak losers, only strong winners
May the world remain peaceful and wonderful
Where there are no lousy losers, only lovely winners.
Copyright © July 2012, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
I just won a medal
I wasn’t in a war
I think it’s made of gold
I don’t know what it’s for.
I’m shocked at what it weighs.
They threw me a parade
I got an honorary degree
Jimmy Fallon had me on TV
now everyone recognizes me
My old friends say I’m fickle
by the paparazzi I am heckled
I was notified that it’s ‘taxable’
It seems that it’s quite valuable
I was afraid it might be stolen
so I put it in the Smithsonian.
Now that I’m not wearing it
people have started to forget
now no one buys me drinks
or cares about what I think.
I’m no longer on the Wheaties box
fame was a drug and I’m in detox
The whole thing was bizarre,
should I do ‘Dancing with the Stars’?
or simply let it go - fadeout gracefully?
I think anonymity suits me.
Another medal of honor! What did I do? Asked the stork.
You are a beacon of hope, you bring the light.
We wait for you, wondering, and you deliver.
I only do my job as God intended, said the stork.
It is more than enough, the new parents said.
Pinning another medal of honor onto his chest.
Take heart amid violent storms
Triggered by others' ignorance;
For elephants ignore all worms
Who coil under its titanic might.
Swim on to that higher clime
Where giants dine and wine;
For all closer shores promise
No treat above common line.
Strive for the luminous sun
Or hurtle down into oblivion;
Forfeit sure ground's safety
On which no medals shone.
And pine not over stale waters
That neither luck nor tiptop wit
May recoup despite their clout;
Chase fresh prize with iron grit.
Out of the ether once came a small child
who hoped to one day fly thru the air.
Diligently applying herself, learning a style,
performing higher leaps, tapping the rare.
She performed somersaults, all in her stride,
with greater and more intelligent ease.
Winning honors and gold medals worldwide,
winning hearts with technical expertise
She became the world's new daring upstart
"sensational, uncanny, never fails,"
They didn't care that she led with her heart
and began to believe all of the tales.
As heroes may do, she took a misstep
and stumbled as the world was looking on.
the fault came not because she was inept,
the world on her shoulders became too strong.
A lesson to be learned: tho brave they are
some athletes just barely more than a child.
We expect all heroes to be bright stars
so we can foster their dreams for a while.
We forget they're human, just as we are
with mightier longings and goals, perhaps.
We must forgive occasional dimmed stars,
help them stand if they sometimes collapse.
He stared at his war medals;
As bright as when first minted,
His own lustre long since tarnished;
Only tear-filled eyes now glinted!
He belonged to a generation
That sacrificed its fragile youth,
And traded it for our defence;
For freedom and for truth.
Although a very modest man
Who accepted his war-torn lot,
He wanted the world to remember,
All the others left to rot.
A past filled with campaigns like his,
Couldn't easily be put aside,
Though through many a tortured memory,
God only knew how he'd tried.
Don't ever forget this brave soldier,
Who now struggles to pull on his vest,
For if you forget the alive and with medals,
You'll surely, never remember the rest!
DPAA Hymn for Fallen Soldiers
by Michael R. Burch
Sound the awesome cannons.
Pin medals to each breast.
Attention, honor guard!
Give them a hero’s rest.
Recite their names to the heavens
Till the stars acknowledge their kin.
Then let the land they defended
Gather them in again.
When I learned there’s an American military organization, the DPAA (Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency), that is still finding and bringing home the bodies of soldiers who died serving their country in World War II, after blubbering like a baby, I managed to eke out this poem.
That little girl, Toula, in third
grade stood,
Tears falling down her red face.
Because she had only won bronze
and third place.
Ah, what a disgrace!
Older Toula today, still looks at it
with chagrin.
Though decades have passed,
that very same medal, still does
her ravishing soul in.
She never got over not being at
the top.
Though her life is one of enormous
successes, and anything but flops!
The mystery is, why not throw
that medal away?
Toula still looks at it everyday.
Because....It always keeps her
reaching for the stars.
Not desiring to be part of the crowd.
No, not ever!
Just being her own gleaming feldspar.
One day with God..humbly and forever.
6/23/2019
8am PST
winning his ticket home dishonorably, the victor lies in a ditch
12/23/2018
Contest: Winners and Losers
Sponsor: Silent One
You ask to know my history
What part of me is best
What were these medals given for
All worn upon my breast.
This one is for bravery
This one is for injury
This one is for gunnery
This one's for artillery.
This one is for nibs and quills
This one is for paperbacks
This one's for the daffodils
This one's for my screws and tacks.
This one's for the ice cream van
This one's for it's tires
This one's for the garbage can
This one's crimped with pliers.
This one is for candy canes
This one is for showers
This one's for losses and gains
And this for magic powers.
This is for a dog that bites
This one's for the bloody mist
This last one is for who recites
Then slays the hearer of this list.
and they gave me medals...
my hands still shake
sometimes they bleed
as i return to
another time when
i paid no heed
to a living soul and
no one was safe
from the likes of me.
Looking at the mirror....
I saw some lines,
some strands of grey.....
I panicked
but when i looked
again keenly.......
My heart got
filled with warmth
I thought
These are the medals
bestowed on me
by my life........
They are the signs
that day by day
I am richer
with experiences,
with knowledge,
with love,
Thinking about this
I smiled at my reflection
Fixed my attire
and walked off
with a confidence,I never had before...
OYLMPIC MEDALS-
Olympus’s memory told with a long told history of games,
A long list of contests and all the winners names.
Gigantic proportions held at the equator each fourth year,
Winners to leave with a sum and a medal to hold dear.
World politics split the Olympic Games into sections,
Communist threat spread, and it was decided on segregation.
All voted it was best just to stay here at home,
Then it was split, China stayed there we went to Rome.
Our version of the Olympics were held separately in different towns,
Across many nations with secrecy it was bound.
In a school of murder a hub of
terror survives.
An acid attack on face
captures the contradictions of first nervous countdown.
Step aside my truth, my tears
are under siege. The schizophrenic
will draw a landscape
of falling earth.
Tonight a visual poem will come alive
on a dirty screen of life.
Words were written like mercy
on the hands.
Why the face wears no smile?
Hard core *********** of blueberries survives
amidst the shooting and explosions.
The nymphs were waiting in the heaven!
SATISH VERMA
Each of us is a warrior:
For earthly survival,
For the Lord of our soul.
What determines the time of service
For each individual warrior?
Conscription? Consumption?
Was this culprit a volunteer?
An honorable discharge
Is really all the old warrior seeks.
In the end the medals and commendations
Don't matter
As iconoclasts, gathering dust at the last.
In the material form they represent
Symbols, of the warrior's human achievement,
Rusting, deteriorating, without a hint
Of what they originally meant.
Value not the icon,
But hold it close to your heart.
It represents the culmination of humanity,
And your memory of it, the most precious part.
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