We are the eighth graders the mighty mighty eighth graders
Their mantra is loud and confident, a battle cry.
They sound proud and ready to face the day.
They are gathering a crowd of eight graders now.
They are an excited, jubilant happy mob.
We are the eight graders, the mighty mighty EIGHTH GRADERS!
Their first day in high school, and they are psyching themselves up.
Before they enter the high school as freshman, the bottom of the rung.
Suspecting they are going to be beaten down, put down, pushed down
Cranked, pranked, and possibly spanked by last year’s eighth graders.
They have older siblings, so they have been warned.
They march in as a mob, expecting the worst.
Starting line she stands
arms around her self
frail, shy, reserved
personage -misplaced soul
appearing unsure
surrounded uniformly by
uniformed male jocks
parading runners physique
matched shorts to tank tops
exclaiming deeds of glory past
prancing, pensive
solders psyching for battle
starting gun
a contest
transformation
shy lady's personage evolving
metamorphic, graceful in flight
emerging determined
single mind set
running machine
male scalps bloody on trail
competition incarnate
Finish line
emerging shy
effeminate
Ann
Elaina
Vicky
male eyes nervous
admiration
mixed feelings
new reality.
Eskil Anderson
Watching the Olympics,
Streaming live or on TV,
Is quite thrilling and amazing,
All that it’s supposed to be.
The stories and performances
Are poignant and exciting;
The ceremonies and the medals
Psyching and uniting.
Despite the talk of Zika
And the crime on Rio’s streets,
The competition’s given us
Some television treats.
So play on, all you athletes;
We’re in awe of what you do
And are grateful that what you achieve
Is there for us to view.