A man ran with vigor and speed,
On his back was his wife for the deed.
Through mud, over logs,
Dodging roots and dogs,
He raced toward the finish with heed.
She laughed as he stumbled and slipped,
Over puddles and bridges they tripped.
The crowd roared with delight,
Cheering on this wild sight,
As both of them somehow still skipped.
Across the finish line they flew,
Mud-splattered, wet, but spirits true.
Trophies glint in the sun,
The crazy race is done,
And laughter lingers where chaos grew.
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Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: May 13th, 2026 00:18
- Comment from author about the poem: Inspired by the sport of wife-carrying, a contest in which competitors race while each carrying a partner. For more context visit https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wife-carrying
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: Sports Poetry.
Offline)
Comments2
Matthew, this has such a playful charm to it. The limerick rhythm fits the wild race perfectly, and the imagery keeps everything lively and visual from start to finish. What I enjoyed most is how the poem celebrates joy in the middle of total chaos…slipping, stumbling, splashing through mud, yet still crossing the line smiling. Delightful write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
A most fun read very descriptively written. Good work
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