Array ( [sid] => 36976 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Another Race [time] => 2004-03-01 21:44:46 [hometext] => A poem honoring the Iditarod (which starts this week). The red lantern is the trophy given to the last person each year to successfully finish the race. [bodytext] => I always used to get excited
when it was time for the Iditarod
to start.
There was something pure,
something elemental about it.
Men nearly died every year.
Dozens of dogs never made it home.
A sacred celebration of what
we can endure, both from the weather
and from disease.
The first to Nome was a hero
for a year, but all who finished were winners,
including the person given the red lantern. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 164 [topic] => 21 [informant] => butterat_zool [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Another Race


Another Race
Date: Monday, 1st March 2004 @ 09:44:46 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: butterat_zool
I always used to get excited
when it was time for the Iditarod
to start.
There was something pure,
something elemental about it.
Men nearly died every year.
Dozens of dogs never made it home.
A sacred celebration of what
we can endure, both from the weather
and from disease.
The first to Nome was a hero
for a year, but all who finished were winners,
including the person given the red lantern.

This poem is Copyright © butterat_zool


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