Author's Note: This poem was written about a high school marching band competition in Ohio, OMEA circuit (2003 season). My band failed to qualify for state competition for the 3rd time at this comp by 9 points. The top 5 bands there qualified (they were all above our class) and we ranked 6th. This poem is mainly one of disappointment, and I'm sure some of you can also relate. (And in my mind, it IS tragedy!)
First, and Last
A rush of relief
First in our class
We won't just look at the trophies
From behind the glass.
With one mind and one life
We stand proud and tall
Thinking there's nothing left,
We've won it all.
But there is something else
That we didn't achieve
And it hovers, so taunting
Nine points beyond our reach.
We can't yet go to state,
The announcer informs
And our backs start to slump
As our hearts are torn.
Number six, out of five
Just not good enough
We've got everything else
But that one bit of luck.
I was there on that day
When we all took that hit
And we found that first place
Sometimes just doesn't cut it.
A/N: Perhaps not the best poem, but it describes my feelings at the time pretty well. Oh, and in case you were wondering, this story has a happy ending: we qualified at our next competition and then tied for 1st place Class B band in the state of Ohio. Read and reply, please.