Years ago, I was pleased to have a poem appear in Aethlon: The Journal of Sport Literature. And more recently, the poem was chosen to be part of the anthology that the editors put together periodically; I got my contributor's copy last week.
It's interesting to revisit it. I don't usually write in form, but for this poem, I experimented with the villanelle. I'm calling it a success.
And in terms of content, it's a poem I still like, even though I wrote it years ago.
So, for your reading pleasure, here's the poem:
One Fast, One Slow
The muscles remember what the mind forgets.
The brain replays every decision, each move.
The muscles waste no time on useless regrets.
They keep an even speed, moving in the groove.
They do not lose a beat, always keeping the pace.
The muscles know only one way towards what they have to prove.
With the mind mired in time, the muscles move through space.
The body leaves the mind alone to second guessing.
The mind, unlike the body, knows there’s more than just one race.
The mind spends time wondering what is missing,
That abandoned job, the trip we never took,
The other people we could have been kissing.
The mind knows any decision is worth a second look,
Even choices made years ago.
The brain decides there’s no such thing as a closed book.
The muscles focus on their task, to strengthen and to grow,
The mind might say it does the same,
Two processes, one fast, one slow.
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