The smell of liniment and oil,

Hints that someone is about to toil,

A large crash and a little rattle,

Sounding like an old sword in battle,

Muscles flexed and taut,

Another battle is about to be fought,

Knees bent, back straight,

Trying hard to concentrate,

The room is full of apprehension,

As he takes up the bars tension,

Then comes a mighty roar,

The bar is lifted from the floor,

The bar hits the lifters chest,

Now he is physically at his best,

Everyone rises from their chair,

As the weight is thrust into the air,

First, second, third white light,

The lifter has won his fight,

Back to earth goes the weight,

It is all to heavy for me to contemplate,

The lifter is a man I admire,

He is full of dedication and desire,

Always trying to get the weights up high,

With an attitude or never say die.

 

Steve Corke

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