Twenty-Twelve

Well, it's finally all over, and we can get back to normal.  Like a highly-trained athlete, a poet - after delivering himself of a major performance - needs to "warm down" a little.  This is my attempt.  The sub-title of the poem is "Team GB - OMG!!"

Twenty-Twelve 

So the Olympic party’s all over:

We all come back blinking into the light,

From wide-screen TV-sets in darkened  rooms,

Knowing that we delivered it right. 

There were the Moaning Minnies and gloomsters,

The doomsters who said it would surely fail,

But we got past the winning post all right:

We put in a sprint and we got to the rail. 

Expected to do well at British sports -

Like double synchronised groaning,

Advanced muttering about the weather,

And heavyweight contests of moaning. 

Or TV remote control juggling,

Dominoes, 400 metres’ queueing,

And long-distance women’s misery -

That’s what they thought we’d be doing. 

We piqued at ground-to-air-missiles,

We heard of the cock-ups at G4S,

We worried about security,

We thought it would be a bloody great mess. 

We lost the keys to Wembley stadium:

It looked bad, and we started to fear,

And the early signs weren’t too good,

When we mixed up North with South Korea. 

But then the starting pistol sounded:

An Opening Ceremony of hits,

With an international audience,

Wondering what the hell to make of the Brits. 

London buses and pastoral scenes,

Danny Boyle did it all quite proper.

Not so sure about Beckham in a speed-boat,

Or why the Queen jumped out of a chopper. 

But then it all started to happen -

The events just got longer and longer.

The greatest athletes of modern times,

Excelled - to be higher, faster, stronger. 

No – do not adjust your medals table:

Such great achievements were easy to see.

From personal bests to new World Records -

Unbelievable feats from Team GB! 

Triathlon, heptathlon and marathon -

The crowds went crazy over it all.

With huge cheering, shouting and screaming -

Specially for ladies’ beach volleyball. 

Every day the medals kept rolling in,

Each a personal victory we’re told.

National anthems on the podiums -

The bronze, the silver and, of course, gold. 

The fastest man on Earth - Usain Bolt,

Double Olympic champions we saw:

Mo Farah, Ennis, Hoy and Pendleton,

Wiggins and Murray – we hold them in awe. 

And a Blade-Runner showed what he could do,

Under five Olympic golden rings.

Unbelievable!  Incredible!

Who ever saw such fantastic things? 

Now, as two hundred nations head for their homes,

A bit hung over, some not feeling too well,

We can wrap our flag around our bodies,

And wish adieu, auf wiedersehen, farewell. 

The sporting flame has been extinguished,

Sent to Rio, in four years’ time we’re told.

Now, as a nation, we ought to be proud:

We, the people, won that thirtieth gold

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012