Rise and Grind

A short poem about weightlifting.

We stare at each other without looking
We’re all impressed,
but not at you.

 

Hard shrug in the corner intimidates us
Its so easy, yet so heavy.

 

But you, no. You’re s**t.
We’ve all seen you before.
And not even you, but what you are--s**t.

 

I get closer and closer to the plates
He gets closer to the heavy stack
at the end of the rack
As you get closer to the water fountain
and the pull-up bar, easy and configurable.

 

The first rule isn’t that you can’t talk about it
The first rule is that you live here.
Hell, it’s 6 am. I slept here.

 

Ropes flail on the left side
His face is strained, but he still laughs at you
We all do.
We laugh because we are afraid.
We recognize you in the mirror.
We’re all the same.
Some quicker, but all the same

 

Our sides groan
Enslaved to our own selves;
or to the rules of numbers, take your pick.
I go for the numbers
tangible, visible.

 

We laugh, but then again we might just grunt.
We laugh until age takes our wind
And then our children start to giggle

Reviews

[Yellow Butterfly]

What daunting place an arena where testosterone is an overwhelming presence and getting around that is equally as difficult as getting around all the huffs and puffs and strains when all their trying to do is a one rep max bicep curl. That sound, the sound of effort, letting everyone know.....hmmm...then it's the next persons turn.... they best not mess it up.

There's a saying no pain no gain..... but there's a limit too......

Spent many a days and nights (not all through the nights I hasten to add) in such dwellings and it's a scene I've seen many a time over.

Pride comes before a fall springs to mind when I read your fun and witty poem...