Tuesday, February 07, 2012
Total Focus
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I met a solid rowing friend and asked about the Race. "How fared it
with the wind," I said, "When stroke increased the pace?
You swung it forward mightily, you heaved it greatly back. "Your
muscles rose in knotted lumps, I almost heard the crack. "And
while we roared and rattled too, your eyes were fixed like glue.
"What thoughtwent flying through your mind, how fared it, Five, with
you?" But Five made answer solemnly, "I heard them fire a gun, "No
other mortal thing I heard until the Race was done." -R.C. Lehman
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Rowing Poetry
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Miscellaneous artistic thoughts on rowing
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"Night River"
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by Carole Luke
Each night I dream about that rising river.
Each night, my body curls at the catch,
and my blades drop neatly down, square and silent
into black water. My legs push hard against
the wide river's current. The bow splits a darkness
so deep, it threatens to swallow my shimmering, moonlit hull,
now a gleaming white sliver, skimming, sliding headlong
into this night river unwrapping itself around me.
And each night, as I soar through the water, my oars
suddenly wings, folding, gathering, spreading
wide up into the breaking dawn, the light gently wakes
the sleeping land where, tender and calm,
you sleep unconscious of time, the start of a smile
shaping your morning, the day holding its breath
before it unfurls ferociously, like its sister darkness
has done, yielding my shell back onto to your land.
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