When you are fitted in a racing car and you race to win, second or third place is not enough.
quote by Ayrton Senna

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Race Of Standing Still
I'm racing racing towards it
Like when I was a small boy
Cutting through a waving field
Decorated by summer sunlight
Unable to remember
Unable to forget
Unable yet at peace
Unable yet scared
I'm racing racing towards it with fear and excitement
They seem unseperable
They seem so far apart
They are my close friends
They are my very ghosts
I'm racing towards it
Holding perfectly still
In the race of standing still
song performed by by Zao from Zao

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Intimidator
He knew when he was a boy
that racing was his game
As he got better in his car
They knew he wouldn't be easy to tame
As his racing years went on
he became to many The Intimidator
In the hearts of many and his son
he soon became their main mentor
He is known today as a racing legend
because of his style and races won
We will all remember that fateful day
The Daytona 500, February 18,2001
His name is Dale Earnhardt
and if you ever saw him race
the one thing we will all remember
is his intimidating face
poem by Denise Girod

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Inferential
Although I saw before me there the face
Of one whom I had honored among men
The least, and on regarding him again
Would not have had him in another place,
He fitted with an unfamiliar grace
The coffin where I could not see him then
As I had seen him and appraised him when
I deemed him unessential to the race.
For there was more of him than what I saw.
And there was on me more than the old awe
That is the common genius of the dead.
I might as well have heard him: “Never mind;
If some of us were not so far behind,
The rest of us were not so far ahead.”
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson

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When You Race Against Time
Winning is always an OPTION
An opinion of matter, synchronized illusion
You believe you will get there brining fantasy to fruition
But you lose yourself in the race watching time fly
Reminiscing upon moments when u had time insight
Having a disambiguation of how your life would be but you took it for granted
Now you are racing against time all in regret
Trying to find pieces of the puzzle you lost
Procrastinating on what needs to be done presently
The past has consumed your abilities of engineering your future
Stagnant in your step time moves with nature
That’s what happens when you race against time, trying to rectify past failures
Now you are racing against time when once you had it in leisure
Time waits for no man
Yet man always feel the need to make time
Sensational thoughts met by factual of not getting time back
And only what happens afore is remaining time
Reality in mental amidst as u realize
How you easily took time in compromise
Now you are racing against time in fairytale fantasize
poem by Kgagamatso Chimelwane

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A Race Already Won
We’re in a race already won, in the race we daily run,
It is the race we call life, won for us by Jesus Christ,
A race we run so many ways, living out all our days,
Racing upon this earth, for a crown of Eternal worth.
As we run for that prize, in this race, we fix our eyes,
On The Author of our faith, guiding us by His Grace,
For as we live this daily life, we run into undue strife,
Difficulties along our way, we go through every day.
We remember as we run, that the race has been won,
For this Truth we receive, when, in Christ, we believe,
Our Lord, in Who we trust, won this race for all of us,
When He finished at Calvary, providing to us Victory.
So when we run into a test, in our Lord, we shall rest,
As we are in God’s Hand, when we don’t understand,
So in the midst of the race, we simply seek His face,
Then He gives to us peace, as we run doesn’t cease.
Anyone today can choose, this race, they can’t lose,
The race that’s been won, by Jesus, God’s own Son,
And to Him alone we raise, as a victor, eternal praise,
As we gain Eternal Life, in this race with Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©01/2010)
If my sportive horse get wings
He is not well these days
Having a tooth ache it seems.
But smile as usual like a child.
And always ready for the race.
I understand what he wants to say,
But he never says;
'Master after winning this big trophy
I want to give up racing.'
I thought if he get wings
Then I could have send him to a better place.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga

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The Race for the Cure
I had a sister once
She had sunshine in her smile
She was everybody’s friend
For you she’d gladly walk a mile
When I see her in my mind’s eye
Jeanette’s forever young
When we lost her to the monster
She was only 41.
So that is why tomorrow
I’ll be racing for the cure.
With caregiver’s and survivors
We will beat the beast for sure.
And if my step should falter
As I am no longer young
Her ghost will run beside me
Until my race is run.
Perhaps you have a sister too,
Or someone that you love
Perhaps she’s a survivor
Of a battle bravely won
We must celebrate the victories
Each year there are still more
Until what was a feeble cheer
Becomes a mighty roar
So that is why tomorrow
You’ll be racing for the cure.
With caregiver’s and survivors
We will beat the beast for sure.
And if your step should falter
For you are no longer young
Your survivor friend will pace you,
Until this race is won.
Gather at the starting line
Young and old together
The sisters and the daughters
And survivors feeling better
There may be 20,000 here
The organizers say
They fail to count the shadows
Who will run with us today.
So that is why today we’re here
All racing for the cure.
Family, friends and lovers
We will beat the beast for sure.
And if our steps should falter
For we are no longer young
Our dead will bear us forward,
Until their race is won.
poem by John F. McCullagh

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In A Rat Race
the rat finally gets tired
of racing
in his own rat race world
now it thinks of resting for a while
near the dog house
where the cat is taking its nap
well, he thinks,
why not try friendship for a while
why not exercise
some diplomatic ties
to stop the race
to have more space
for dreams
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Blance, where were you...?
Blance, where were you when I was still alive?
come just to think of it, life was a game;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Black vanishing plummet, Oettinger strive
race on marginal speed is not to blame
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Wolf-colder bite November frost to skive;
Vain was this agon for, distance to tame;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Breathless our life was at twenty-five,
live dangerous, on road, afore to aim,
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Selected Nymph, one promise to derive;
She was a softer misty form, my dame;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Apotheotic nacreous form, swan dive;
November of anamnesis, became,
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
poem by Giorgio Veneto

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Goodbye Charlton Heston
Goodbye Charlton Heston
I shall miss your acting skills
Your epic movies and the thrills.
You may have been too fond of the gun
Or did it protect your place in the sun?
Surrender it now, this race is run!
To many you are the eternal charioteer
Now you're racing to a new frontier!
I know the Girls will miss you here.
(13th April 2008)
poem by Res John Burman

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A Dead End
When racing motorbikes
around the Isle of Man
one must be aware
of deadly hairpin corners...
one does not see
until it is too late
to avoid or escape
a life racing out of line.
Many a great rider
has died an early death
racing rained, washed out, corners
‘the (sudden) dead don’t see’...
when never
going fast enough
until they have to stop
dead quick.
Attempting to get
a winner’s medal...
when racing the unforgiving
prestigious Isle of Man.
poem by Terence George Craddock

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Want To Slow Down?
Rushing here and rushing there, men in a hurry to get just where?
Racing down the highway of life, creating on the roads such strife.
When arriving at their destination, what then is their consolation?
Only more racing through the day, and more grief along the way.
Each day begins a hectic pace, appearing to grip the human race,
Men never stop to take a breath; before long they’re facing death.
Many lives simply go too fast, pursuing things that just won’t last.
Is there maybe a better way, to begin and end each passing day?
What matters when all is done; isn’t life more than work and fun?
Is there not a deeper meaning, to give purpose to our very being?
Seemingly facing death after birth, when living life upon this earth,
Is there something better friend, when our lives come to the end?
If you could only slow your pace, you could then join another race,
You could join the race with Christ, a race that ends in Eternal Life.
Slowing down to hear God’s voice, can be for you another choice,
Just take the time and He is heard, upon the pages of God’s Word.
In The Bible, you will see His plan, for the earth and for every man,
A plan that gives our life meaning, and in His Son a new beginning.
With a life of purpose and peace; an eternal life that will not cease,
And all that you must do to start, is to accept Christ into your heart.
(Copyright ©03/2007)

Once we realize we are all members of humanity, we will want to compete in the spirit of love. In a competition of love we would not be running against one another, but with one another. We would be trying to gain victory for all humanity. If I am a faster runner than you, you may feel bad seeing me pass you in the race, but if you know that we are both racing to make our world better, you will feel good knowing that we are racing toward a common goal, a mutual reward. In a competition of love we'll all share in the victory, no matter who comes first.
quote by Muhammad Ali

Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Race Of Veterans
RACE of veterans! Race of victors!
Race of the soil, ready for conflict! race of the conquering march!
(No more credulity's race, abiding-temper'd race;)
Race henceforth owning no law but the law of itself;
Race of passion and the storm.
poem by Walt Whitman

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About in The City
about in the city, get caught up in the lights
walk with the people, anticipate the endless rhythm that is the night
awake each day to the race once again, the race of life,
run towards your dreams, run onto the subway,
because this city’s moving fast, racing forward in a hurry
talk fast and run with fury so you can be more than just a blur to this city
poem by by unknown author

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I know I'll never feel that sensation of racing and winning again and that took a while to get used to. The Tour was a race I never thought I could lose.
quote by Greg LeMond

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Once Mighty Bay
Fifteen years ago he could run as fast as the wind
The champion group 1 gelding of the thoroughbred kind
At the big City race tracks big races he won
The big bay in his prime was the Nation's number one
Racehorse and highest stakes winner and the one to beat
In his racing life he never tasted defeat
But in his retirement his face looking gray
A shadow of the horse he once was is the ageing big bay
In his younger years he was the Nation's pride
And to watch him race people came from places far and wide
But it has been awhile now since he was in his prime
And he is losing out to the father of time
And like every dog every race-horse has it's day
He can scarce raise a trot now the once mighty bay.
poem by Francis Duggan

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I guess it is the sense of personal satisfaction that racing gives you that I am probably going to miss, because in racing you get that feedback very quickly.
quote by Bobby Rahal

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do you have any ambitions outside racing? My main ambition at the moment, whether inside or outside racing, is to become Formula 1 World Champion.
quote by Kimi Raikkonen

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The glue-mer of being famous....issue Nine
i like to play with people
games....it is fun...in the funny best time...
that is it....no killing...no murder...no movies....
make some people
laugh...get excited...back to work...
every body works in fun....
friendly environment
no hazard...no bossing bosssssss.....
no religion...no race....or racing for a chick....
after ward....the fight of kisses in night parties will tbegin.....
ake place...in a funny light chrismas night funny party...
poem by Atef Ayadi

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