somewhere a champion rises
that place is not here
here a champ leans on risers
and drinks scotch
and drinks vodka
and drinks wine
and remembers the champion
somewhere there’s a champion
that upset the former champ
on a different stage than here
and he stopped
and he left
and he gave up
and he’s no longer the champion.
somewhere a former champion
drinks the remains of the day
from the understanding
that he was
that he is
that he always will be
that he is the champion of kings.
I am the best thing you've never heard of.
I hold a Bachelor's in English, History and Secondary Education, and a Master's in English: Creative Writing, though my appearance belies intelligence.
My goal in life is to write and to be read. It's a modest stretch by most imaginations.
To most I'm amazing.
It all depends on your definition of literary merit.
All poems contained on this blog are ©Thomas Boersma unless otherwise noted.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 582
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Drop a line, a quip, a snippet, your pants, or an anecdote...just don't drop the soap.