Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!
Seems like a perfect day to reflect, find some inner calm, and maybe share some poetic thoughts heading into The Game.
Many of your posts have brought a smile to my face in year when I needed I smile or two. Today is a good day to thank you for that.
I'll choose a haiku for my meager contribution, but feel free to express yourself in whatever form suits you best. Accompanying photos encouraged. Do what you do...
after turkey feast
drowsily sitting on couch,
Ohio game I fear
As most of us know, former Wolverine and current Arizona Cardinal Steve Breaston is a creative individual, aside from being an exciting football player. He posted this Youtube video of his poem about the NFL Lockout.
Another bowl season, who will make the cut?
BigTen? SEC? XII? who knows?
Maybe some undefeated team from Boise, Idaho?
The fans from afar in cold weather bluster,
Pray for their team, a winning effort to muster.
But sadly not I, for my team has no bowl.
My wolverines have failed in achieving their goals.
The winged helmet it seems has lost some of its luster,
And so in lieu, I watch some non-automatic qualifying BCS buster.
And lament for shame what could have been
But alas, a second rebuilding season for poor Michigan
Rich Rodriguez, I know your job ain't easy,
And I doubt the media who tries to paint you as sleazy.
But I know your spread option, I know your receiver splits.
I know your defensive alignment, and I know your zone blitz.
And I know that winning isn't just about X's and O's.
It's also about Jimmies and Joes.
It's about guys named Tate and Denard
It's about desire, and playing hard.
But 1 and 7 in conference just isn't good enough!
It's time to get angry! It's time to get tough!
It's time to put the best players on the field
Regardless of whether all egos are healed.
It's time to be creative again.
Time to make their coach's head spin!
Put Shoelace and Sunshine out together,
Their combined skill will overcome any kind of weather.
It's time to let the Freep know who's boss.
It's time to eliminate the upset loss.
It's time to regain our position we've earned
And time to show us the lessons you've learned.
Stop hedging and hawing for a day that may never come
Because if you don't win now, there will be anger from some
And hatred from others, and a pink slip too
Our patience has worn thin, we of the maize and blue.
So now is the time for do or die.
And these words, I promise you, are not a lie,
If you don't deliver a winning season,
You will be fired for just reason.
A new AD comes next year,
And his stamp, he'll want to have appear
So just win, and everything will take care of itself,
And we'll drink to you, and your health.
We'll sing for the colors that float through the night
And bring in the new decade in the right
Six wins, a bowl, and some hope, no less,
Will win you the praise of the 'leaders and best'.
MGoReadership, I’m a long time reader, and first time poster. Inspired by the team this year, and in the middle of two Brit. Lit. classes, I thought to put my inspiration to verse:
A Tale of Two Brothers
Two brothers, Rich and Mark, their relationship quite stark
Had eyes for the same girl, the fairest in the world
They each set out to woo, for this girl would not have two
Each brother with a plan, to become this lady’s man
One, with adolescent smirk, approached her like a jerk
He raised his hands upright, and questioned there her height
The other would the Victor’s sing, and could quote the Lion King
Mark offered state-wide renown, and a clock counting down
Over Rich’s first year of dismay, Mark thought he could play
He thought to have Rich floored, with his smug billboard
Mark seemed to grow nearer, but Rich was academically superior
Rich rebounded from toil, and sold her some snake oil
The oil did she taste, and to Rich she made haste
Promising to be, his date on October three
In Spartan Stadium blazing, midst cows in pastures grazing
Danced Rich with she, her name was victory
He asked her, “Why me and not the other?”
She answered, “I always choose the older brother.”
Yeah, perhaps the greatest poem ever about clowns. Ever.