The Race of the War Canoe
Each paddler digs deeper pulling with all their might
Fourteen paddler’s in all - and way in the back in the rear,
Seventh on the right holds on tight!
At the line the boat surges ahead - each soul knows their plight
Fourteen paddler’s with heads down-paddles lost-then reappear,
Each paddler digs deeper pulling with all their might!
Paddler’s 1, 2, 3, keep the pace, and the line in sight
Paddler’s 4,5,6 are the strongest- the ones to fear,
Seventh on the right holds on tight!
You’re in the hole, dig, harder - you must fight
The coach yells as he steers from the rear,
Each paddler digs deeper pulling with all their might!
The power of the paddles are pulled to their height
The breathing - the swish of the paddles is all you can hear,
Seventh on the right holds on tight!
Closer and closer the fire in their bodies is ready to ignite
Wet from sweat one final push as the cheers grow near,
Each Paddler digs deeper pulling with all their might
Seventh on the right holds on tight!
Sue Whalen Copyright .2005
Your poem reminded me of Sculling( An Olympic Event.)I'm not really sure but I think they call the last one A Barker. Or perhaps I'm thinking of one at a carnival. (lol) Anyway, I love the poem. Peace, Love and Blessings Always, Paul.