Posts Tagged ‘poetry-archives’

Volunteer Swim coach: A Tribute

By Michael O. Zahn

He walks with two canes,
he’s fragile and fat,
the kids on the team
lug his extra-wide chair,
gently help him sit back.

But his voice still has sinew,
he bellows tough drills.
With sandpaper words
he strives to propel
even the slackers,
to make all excel.

Once, long ago,
he was slim and swam swift.
An Adonis in butterfly,
flaunting gods’ gift!
The water was whipped
by his lunges and plunges!
Sprays of ribbons
were showered by judges.

Ribbons fray.
Butterflies die.
Bodies betray.
The gods can deny.

What’s left of Adonis
you’ll find at the pool
in his extra-wide chair,
a pain-drenched old grandpa
who’s fighting despair
by bequeathing his dreams
to the ripening teens
on the high-school swim team.

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The Lake Cane Restoration Society

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill
Form: Acrostic

“Lucky” Meisenheimer’s

Aquatic oasis is

Kept swimmable, fishable, drinkable, and loveable1 through

Efforts proactively protecting this unique spring-fed water resource in central Florida.1

Complaints, anger, disgust from residents and visitors

Alike were volunteer swimmer-scientists’ call to action.

National media joined their curative response to the

Explosion of algae. They prevented green slime from claiming our favorite swimming-hole.

1Promoting best practices in restoring Lake Cane

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Ode to Lucky: a “Swimmerick”

By Tom Welch

An aquatic young doctor named “Lucky”,
Made his way south from Eastern Kentucky.
His swim’s now historic,
Wall signers – euphoric!
Yet, is all about pushing the puck, he!

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The Lake

By Seth Wycha (age 7)

On the weekends when I wake,
I like to see our local lake
with my mommy and my bike,
my little brother on his trike.
If I’m lucky, in the water
I might see a baby otter
or some birds in the trees
while I feel the gentle breeze.
There’s nothing like the water’s shine.
The lake – where lovely creatures live and dine.

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The Swimmers Who Have Left Us

By Michael Zahn

No more water chill on skin,
no more fear of loss
or joy of win;
they are on the longest lap of all
The infinity pool
to which they have been called
has lanes that stretch forever
on the longest lap of all
No more will heartless pace clocks
tally up their faults.
Achievement records frozen now,
on the longest lap of all
Oh, you splendid living swimmers,
delight in every splash
in sunshine and in squall
for someday you will join them
on the longest lap of all

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The Golden Rule

By Barb Abney

When what the world portends makes you blue,
To thine own lake be true.

COVID, war, work and school,
Can make your life seem less than cool.

Not to mention the price of fuel!
When it all seems just a little too cruel,

Remember Lucky’s Golden Rule –
To thine own lake be true.

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Generative Writing with Water

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

Of our waterways, we are stewards; opportunities abound –

Do the wrong thing – conditions worsen

Partnerships produce plans – guiding authorities to

Do the right thing – responsible, logical, feasible

I write new poems in collaboration with bodies of water,
inspired by the sights and sounds of their shores.
I dip my poems into these sacred wells,
quickly retrieving revision.

Oceans, lakes, rivers, streams – sources of creativity, good health, life

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The Colors of Cane

By Michael Zahn

iPads are red,
TVs are blue,
get off that couch
we’ve got swimming to do!

Swimsuits are red,
swimsuits are blue,
physique is a factor,
and attitude, too —
a Speedo inspires
(and so does J.Crew)

Swim caps are orange,
swim caps are green.
Neon’s advantage:
You can be seen.
Neoprene’s great
if Cane’s temp is polar.
Ears turning blue?
Just yank it lower.

Tow floats are pink,
(yeah, some are yellow).
If shore’s afar,
and your core
turns to jello,
orange you glad
you brought your

Cane sky might blush red,
Cane clouds might blow blue,
no matter the weather
I love swimming
with you

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The Lucky Lake

By Michael Zahn

Lucky lake!
Our volunteers have made a vow
to help Cane cope
— right here, right now —
with Godzilla Hydrilla
(and Noxious Nitrate)
that choke and cloud,
make swimmers frown,
(could make our lake a burial ground).
But we stand fast
(swim even faster),
we swear that Cane
will shine, not fester.
In May each year,
hundreds race our Golden Mile.
They dread no depth,
they fear no reptile.
See the lively noisy splashy mob scene!
— as we raise cash to keep Cane clean.

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By Carlton Johnson

I dive right
in wordless
and light
like tangerines in autumn
cresting the troughs
of tomorrow
and the day after
for the water is clear and
pure and permeates all
the wonders that I
can still see there is
wonder here and there
and there in the modest
of grief and suffering
we break the surface
and we all sink like pebbles
to a universe of one
only one begotten
and forgotten dream
to return


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