Here at SwimSwam, the only thing we love more than swimming is writing about swimming. So, to get into the spirit of the season, we put on our fuzzy parkas, goggles, and Santa hats, and poised our pens to complete entries for the first ever SwimSwam Poetry Slam!
Kick back and enjoy. You can vote for your favorite in the comments, or you can even post your own swimming-related creative writing. Who knows… Maybe it will be even be featured our site.
T’was the Year Before Rio: Anne Lepesant
Twas the year before Rio, and all through the pool,
Swimmers were preparing, in clubs and in schools;
The pool decks were filled with net bags and fins,
In hopes that hard work would help us to win;
The coaches stood over us with watches in hand,
For they, too, had visions of that Faraway Land.
We in the far lanes with a D on our caps,
Had just begun swimming another 100 laps.
The year had been good, our team been gritty,
Katie’s world records were especially pretty;
The roster for Rio began back in August,
When Wilimovsky and Anderson proved they were strongest.
Meanwhile in Texas, the World’s Best Ever,
Had an answer for Le Clos, who was a bit too clever;
Phelps won both butterflies, and the IM to boot,
With the world’s fastest times in an MP-branded suit.
Yes The GOAT is back, and we all can’t wait,
To see how many records he will obliterate.
Speaking of records we’re not alone,
They’re being broken in every time zone:
From Ledecky and Sjöström, Hosszu and Peaty,
To Paltrinieri and Campbell, Larkin, and relays;
The world is getting faster and we need to work hard,
If gold in Rio is to be our reward.
The first step is Omaha, where Trials are held,
In a very fast pool where we hope to excel.
So from sprinters to milers we put in our yards,
Under the watchful eye of red-shorted lifeguards.
We keep track of workouts, we read SwimSwam news,
We arise in the dark and we rarely hit snooze.
An Olympic year changes all circumstances,
Everything is set up to give us more chances.
With altitude training and holiday camps,
Redshirting in college and long course winter champs,
We tailor our training and hope that we peak,
At the end of June, for one full week.
The goal is top-two, to make the team,
To represent Red, White and Blue is the dream.
Clubs are focusing East Coast and West,
On producing all of America’s best;
With which we’ll compete against other nations,
Each one of us bringing our specializations.
Old and young swimmers, new names and familiar faces,
Everyone’s goal is to get those two places,
We’ll shave, we’ll taper, we’ll wear a fast suit,
Everything about us will be resolute.
So between now and then we’ve made Coach a pledge,
To work on the details that will give us the edge:
Backstroke starts, Lochte turns, pulldowns and stroke rates,
Med balls and planks, yoga and free weights.
We’re like a big family all in this as one,
Working our hardest but still having fun;
With our eyes on the goal we have set before us,
We join our voices in a big swimmers’ chorus;
We cheer on our teammates, present and past:
Happy swimming to all, and let’s all Go Fast!
A Gift from Saint Nick: Hannah Hecht
T’was the year before Rio
and in the north of the land,
Santa’d come ‘cross some letters
he didn’t quite understand.
They’d come ‘round the world
from kids like Missy, Margo Geer,
Katinka, Czeh, Clary: guys competitors fear.
“Dear Santa,” they said, without variation,
“I don’t want toys, games, or books,
I wanna swim for my nation.
Come Trials, please send me times fast enough
I’ll show the whole world
that I’ve got the right stuff.”
“I can’t do this.” ol’ Santa Claus shook his head
and made his way over to the North Pole toy shed.
An elf caught him walking by the lit Christmas tree.
He said, “Santa, you’re not gonna like this, come with me.”
To the mailroom they went,
and when they walked in
Santa saw what was causing the poor elf chagrin.
A pile of letters rose thousands high.
“It’s those swimmers, they ask for a faster back, breast, and fly.
This one lad, a Ryan who lives in a pool,
begs us to repeal the FINA turn rule.
They want state times, OT cuts
Junior Nationals too,
records and medals, oh what can we do?”
“This must end,” thought Santa,
and he packed up his sleigh
and set course for the sunny Califor-NI-A.
“I’ll speak with their queen;
she’ll listen to reason.
She’ll set those kids straight
this Christmas season.”
When he arrived, Santa shed off his coat,
and took a deep breath,
ready to meet the GOAT.
He walked up the sidewalk
lush with veggies and fruit,
and nearly crushed a live chicken
with his shiny, black boot.
She answered the door in a halo of light,
an athlete so perfect,
he nearly lost his eyesight.
“Hi, Natalie,” he said. Coughlin led him inside
taking the arrival of Saint Nick in her stride.
He explained his problem,
“I could send them goggles, a suit,
but faster times, Olympic cuts, I can’t execute.”
She thought for a moment.
“What these kids want is speed,
but, really, they already have all they need.
They have coaches who care,
families, teammates too,
their good health, pooltime,
they ought to come through.
But, if not, if on the day of the meet,
they false start, DQ,
or face colossal defeat,
does that mean their practice was worthless before?
I think swimming, perhaps, means a little bit more.”
“You’re brilliant!” He left and flew back up north.
He had a plan to deal with those swimmers henceforth.
Santa drafted letters, sent them off to each coach,
quickly, for the holiday’s impending approach.
“Your swimmers,” he wrote, “all asked me for speed,
but I think you know better just what they need.
After the next deathly set, when they’re all worn slick,
please make sure to tell them, it’s a gift from Saint Nick.”
some nice poetry thanks
Especially from Swimswam
Merry Christmas all