So my sister, Julie, doubted whether one could write a good poem about the Olympics in a hurry. This may not be good, but it’s not terrible, I think, and it was written in a hurry (under an hour).
The Olympics Poem
Now so many thousands of years old,
Still tempting one-dimensional humans
With the promise of Gold.
Morrisey worries that your Spirit
Has gone cold. That you’ve become
A three-week Bonanza during which
Merchandise gets sold.
But I disagree with Morrisey’s
Dulcet yet skeptical tones.
How else would Nations
Compare the strength of their bones?
On rubber mats
And bizarre apparatus
Our species gets sorted by
Metals and status.
So I salute you,
O-lympics! Your flag flies higher
(Nevermind that you’re
Come the first day of