Last Saturday I asked my wife and daughter to help me with a poem by giving me words I would have to use in four stanzas. This week my granddaughter got to throw in two of her own, so this week we’ll have six. Here goes.
Not many are aware of the Couch Olympics.
It’s a byproduct of the TV age, and development
of living room gymnasts.
Many twitterpated fans stay up
all night to view the athletes.
Their dewy eyes stay locked on
their heroes while they compete.
The sport involves lots of sophisticated movements,
using cushions to assist jumps. As you might guess,
participants accumulate more than a few lumps.
The individual rounds begin
with manipulation of the Lazy Boy Chair.
A deft pull of the foot stool
can send one high up in the air.
You would think velocity limited
within the confines of a living room,
but speeds have been measured
almost enough for a sonic boom.
Once, a veteran jumper flew so far
the couch couldn’t catch him.
Thankfully he was rescued by an onlooker,
overcome with compassion.
Ok, that was impressive. And that kind of thing goes on at our house. My man helps every boxer in the ring to punch and his team to score touch downs. Good job.
A broken lamp here and there is occasionally the cost of winning medals in the Couch Olympics.