Paul J Penton – Songwriter

Pole Vault – Daily Object Writing – Sept 25

The final attempt, chewing on determination like a wad of expired bubble gum, surely there’s just a bit more juice here , just a little. The run begins, he’s a workman carrying a plank of wood at high speed, those African women who carry large bundles on their heads- the pressure, the responsibility . Each footfall springs up through his body, footfalls lost in a wash of noise that is the crowd, some are focused on this moment, others attention is focused on the foot race or the shot put, but all our boy is thinking of is that bar. The pole quivers with each thump of his foot, each beat of his heart, flubbering up and down, drawn like a magnet toward the slot. It catches and the forward momentum begins to lift him off the ground the pole flexing like a willow in strong waiting to flex back. Legs reach forward, up toward that thin flat line hanging in the sky the dream in need of fulfillment, legs over , torso over – sliding by on a smattering of lanoline, lift the head . YESSSSSS. The section of the crowd that is watching bursts into a marching band frenzy. Elation and weightlessness flood his body on the way down. A moment frozen in time always to be remembered, staring up at the receding bar in the sky , he has crossed the line. Every moment of practice and belief, every sacrifice now rewarded. Reality slaps him in the form of the landing bag and it’s straight up punching the air in a fist of victory, a salute to the crowd, jumps of joy, surely this means GOLD…..