Mike Trew, Cefn Hendre, Cwmdu, Talley, Llandeilo, Wales, UK Farmer, 52. About 250 poems written never bothered to get any published. Will I be famous? Don't answer that!




The Diver

The diver, he was not afraid
Of tumbling through the empty air
Then cutting like a razor blade
Into the water waiting there.

At first the spring - high from the board -
Abandoning all doubt he rose
And flawless in the sky blue soared
To thrill us all with graceful pose.

Then, almost imperceptibly,
With purpose from that beauty struck
He glided down majestically
With spin and roll and pike and tuck.

Though slow at first, he persevered
Soon rocketing past all known laws
Shot by the crowd that gaping cheered
Their thousand gasping metaphors.

With outstretched hands full-pelt his leap
Met waiting water still and deep
A beauty perfect, freed from flaws
Then he was gone. Deaf to applause.




Copyright 2000 by Mike Trew