Champaign In Hand

Champagne in hand the winning captain stood, Exuberant, aggressive, rock like rude, A rhino dared— in petulant a mood, And feeling flustered red, flushed as he came— Due not the least from a demanding game— Winning again he felt was a tad tame. Success settles down snug in a long lease— In head if the win's won with so much ease, And threatens to become a welcome lure, What if a win's won at a steeper cost? Seized he was, frozen with fear of failure; Yet, is it sin if an odd game is lost? Success in sports comes from sweat laden strife, A mind seized with winning with failure's rife, And victories, howso triumphant, breed Heroes far too absorbed in their own thought, Driven by a mind obsessed to succeed, To whom failure lets notso lessons taught. He struggling to succeed and on move, Delighted in small but triumphant feats, Knows how to win friends with a pinch of love, Human souls oft bonds better in defeats. He savours success that has stumbled ere, Humanity comes from one humbled ere. But to that captain cock, champagne in hand, He often feels: what use winning a friend, What use winning if you need be humble? He wants to succeed without a stumble, Only one failure's enough to crush him, And a mere stumble to crash lifetime's dream! ___________________________________________________ Musings | 01.01.07 |