Burneth Tiger

I wrote this last April in response to a newspaper article and comments by Brian Murphy of the KNBR Morning Show with Murph and Mac (Paul McCaffrey), who said that Tiger had become such a mythic figure that we were all going to have to start using “-eth” verb endings when discussing him. So, with apologies to Bill Blake:

Burneth Tiger
(On the occasion of the 2010 Masters)

Magnolia-balmed, arriveth Tiger,
Around him scriveth restive writers.
Deployeth he a dark phalanx
Of 90 bouncers, stacked in ranks,
To keep at bay the fans, the girls,
The “Whos?”, the “Whys?”, the awkward world.

The show begins, he shutteth down,
Deflecting questions all around,
Responding not, he won’t hobnob,
It’s disrespect! This miked-up Mob
That dareth question “Bad” and “Good,”
And his pursuit of Maidenhood.

He wondreth: “Not a thing on putting?
Just hookers? Strippers? Faithless rutting?
Do they not care that I’m the best
With putter, irons, and the rest?”

They don’t. No more. Now ply they spades
To disinter his Sexcapades.
He wisheth (squinting in the kliegs,
All wearied of his sex fatigues)
He were again golf’s sacred Him–
And not this Tiger, burning dim.

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Part of the Game

I read this in the SJ Mercury News a couple of days before the 2011 SuperBowl (MDXIVCCL, I believe it was). It is now my favorite sports quote *ever:

“This ain’t flag football. So, of course, some collisions are going to occur, some more serious than others. Hopefully, when guys do get hit, you would like for guys at least to get up. Whether they get up slow or fast, people would like for a guy to get up on his own. A lot of times that don’t happen. But that’s all part of the game.”
Pittsburgh Steelers cornerback Ike Taylor

It inspired me to write this poem:

Part of the Game
Ike Taylor hit me yesterday,
But him I do not blame.
So I spend my life in a chair?
Ike tells me this is only fair,
“This ain’t a dance, you ain’t Astaire–
And it’s all part of the game.”

What drives Ike is hard to say,
But we can make this claim:
He loves a man with broken knee,
Torn MCL, flat EKG,
Of these he is a devotee,
For “It’s all part of the game.”

How many times has Ike’s bell rung?
He’s never made this plain.
Let’s just say I think that thought
Don’t help him with his job a lot.
A man goes down? A Farm is bought?
“Hey, that’s just part of the game.”

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Horsehide Haiku: Cooperstown Innovations

Another in the Thong Series:

A scarlet thong hangs
In Cooperstown’s newest space:
Famous Lingerie.

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Haiku: Darkness at Toomer’s Corner

When I heard about the nutcase who poisoned the ancient trees at Toomer’s Corner, I wrote this:

Poison in the dark/
at the flood in Auburn’s trees/
a damned Tide rising/

Denise Levertov once translated a Swedish poem about how a tree “turns Sun into Tree, Time into Tree.” So killing a tree is killing Time, and if Thoreau is right, “you can’t kill Time without injuring Eternity.”

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Horsehide Haiku: Eff Yeah

More on the nonlinearity of the 2010 San Francisco Giants:

Bats, gloves, speed, desire?
No–scarlet thongs, Particles?
Eff yeah: victory

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Horsehide Haiku: No Limit

In re: the Cardinals/Pujols contract dispute. I doubt if Rodriguez or Pujols need the dough. What they do need, apparently, is to be the highest paid player in history. $8 beers, anyone? ::

Albert and Alex/
keeping score with your money/
play “No Limit Screw ‘Em”/


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