Sweat drops were sopping clothes,

stress increasing in caves of mind,

with fluctuating confidence

and alertness invoked,

socks pulled for final ‘sprint’.


Feet firm on starting blocks,

torso slightly leaned,

all parts aligned

geared up to accelerate,

fully determined.


Eyes were all set on goal,

and ears on starter’s gun,

awareness to world got shut,

with the shot of fire

for country I began to run.


Running machine without ail,

wholly focused on track,

limbs ready for best show,

only gold to possess;

Proudly around neck.



At maximum velocity,

head in line with spine,

reflexes were vigilant

when torso with zeal,

embraced the finishing line.


© aparna

2 thoughts on “Sprint

  1. Lokesh Roy

    Yes,Louis Kastakin’s observation regarding adrenalin rush is pretty much astute to even recognise this as a motivational poem for atheletes egging them on to bring more laurels to their respective countries.

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