A Poets Football Game

R.a.n.t. of week 12/02/12

This weekend I was invited to a "flag" football game. Now of all sports, American football happens to be my favourite (unless darts counts). Some might think I'd be more interested in European football, but I'm not very agile on my feet and can't really run up and down the field like I used to. A few months ago we played Football (Soccer), and I really tired myself out (though I probably wouldn't have played if I wasn't trying to impress a girl). Truly, I need to lose weight; okay, another r.a.n.t. for another time. One of the main reasons I came to this game was for my son. Though there were many younger players for which we were playing flag football, us older ones were not always so passive when we went up against each other. I somehow managed to injure a few of my ribs and my arms and legs are extremely sore today. But, I wouldn't take the pain away (as long as they heal), for anything. I wear these pains as trophies, in honour and glory, satisfied knowing I went out there and played despite my initial misgivings.

What misgivings? Well, as indicated above, I'm not exactly the athletic type. And even if I were more fit, the drive to play somewhat alludes me. I was picked last in the 'school-yard pick-em' and the reason showed several times as I was playing, quite probably looking lost. At one point I remember thinking to myself, "I'm a poet, not a footballer". So that got me thinking. Can a poet be an athlete? I started to imagine a team playing football, comprised of poets. Here's how the game went in my mind:

* * * * *

"Hello, I'm Alex Flanagan. I'll be your sideline reporter for this first ever, poets football game. The players are on the field and the game is about to commence. Some might wonder why the game is so late at night. It seems most of the poets felt it was more 'poetic' this way. Number 12, Robert Browning, suggested this 'meeting at night'. Kick-off is about to begin and I'm joined by Pam Oliver who'll be interviewing a few of the players. Pam, I understand you are with Lewis Carroll, this teams quarterback."

"Yes Alex, Now Lewis, what do you feel are your teams chances of winning this game?"
"Twas brillig, and the slithy toves."
"I've forgotten, he doesn't usually make much sense. Back to you Alex."

"The game is now under-way and the poets have received the ball first. John Keats is returning the ball, wait, what's he doing? He's stopped and staring ahead, he seems to be paralysed in place, pointing down field and mumbling. Can we hear what he's saying?"
"Tiger, Tiger burning bright!"
"He's taken down at the 15! This is not good field position for the poets. It's first down and looks like they are going to try a run play. It's handed off to Robert Frost who, yes he's actually made a first down. The defence assumed he was running a different route, but he tricked them all and took the one less traveled by. They are now in better field position, but can they do anything again? Lewis Carroll is hiking the ball."
"One two! One Two! And Through and Through, hike!"
"It's going to be a pass play. Stephen Crane is running down field as though he's pursuing the horizon. William Wordsworth is running all about the field. I'm not sure he knows what he's doing. He seems to be fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Here's the throw, it's to W.H.Davies but he's just standing there. He could have caught the ball but he didn't even try. He's now being ejected from the game. Pam, can you get a comment from him?"

"Davies, what happened out there?"
"What is life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare."
"Thanks for that incite. Alex, back to you."

"Thanks Pam. The team is now sending in Emily Dickenson. Earlier, she felt the game was going to be a breeze and said, 'success is counted sweetest'. Seems she's very hopeful. It's second down and they are going for another run play. It's handed to Emily but she's turned from the defender and has started to run backwards. Oh no, she is taken down for a loss of ten yards. I think we can hear her on the field."
"How DREARY to be somebody!"
"She seems to be taking this very hard. It's third down now and they need to make a conversion here. But can they do it? Lewis Carroll hikes the ball again."
"Callooh! Callay! Hike!"
"The ball is passed to A.E.Houseman, he's running for the first down but.... oh no. He's taken down and it doesn't look like he's getting back up. He took a hard hit, I'm not sure he's going to be back in the game either. Pam, you are right there, how bad does it look."

"Alex, he seems to have taken quite a hit. He's slowly getting to his feet. The crowd is cheering, but he's hobbling to the sideline. Houseman, are you okay?"
"Miles around they'll say that I am quite myself again."
"There you have it, Houseman seems to think he'll be okay."

"It's now fourth down so the poets will have to kick the ball away. Edgar Allan Poe is kicking the ball and it's received by the other team. They are running down the field but no one is stopping them. Edgar Allan Poe is actually running off the field yelling 'Nevermore'. He's being followed by the rest of the poets. Why are they running off the field? Pam, Stephen ran past you. What was he shouting?"

"Incredibly Alex, he seems despondent. As do the rest of the poets. 'It is futile' he cried and ran on. It seems this poets football game has come to an early close. Back to you."

"I guess that just about does it for the first annual poets football game. It seems there will be no joy in Mudville tonight. On behalf of myself and Pam Oliver, have a good night."

Poetry – What Do You Enjoy?

I was recently asked what sort of poetry is the best. It's an interesting question, but kind of like asking what sort of food is the best. Not an easy thing to do when you can enjoy a wide variety. And like food, some poetry can be liked by one person, and despised by another. Perhaps the better question would have been, what are my favourite varieties of poetry and why? And what are a few examples? Well, I'm glad you asked.


Standard Poetry
This is the type of poetry most people think of. It's a simply written, rhyming piece; such as the following.

Trees
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast.
A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
- Joyce Kilmer


Descriptive Poetry
Poems can also express how one is feeling at any given moment. Rita, a character from the film 'Groundhog Day' was disgusted by Phil's egotism and gluttony. She found the best way to describe her feeling by quoting partially from "Breathes There The Man". Read the following excerpt and see if you can tell how Rita feels.

Breathes There The Man
...
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
- Sir Walter Scott


Humorous Poetry
Sometimes poets just wants to make you smile or laugh. If you think about it, a lot of Dr. Seuss's books are written in a poetic style. Or take the 'Owl Critic' by James Thomas Fields. Surely, it stresses a point, but funny none-the-less. When I was much younger and first started writing poetry I did so to be funny. Following is one I wrote, it's a poem parody. Can you guess the poem it parodies?

Bees
I think that I shall never see
an insect lovely as a bee.
A bee whose hungry mouth is pressed
against honey, second rate at best.
A bee that can’t see all day
because to many eyes are in the way.
A bee that may in summer wear
A risky yellow – people stare.
Upon whose belly honey has lain
and sticks to windows on the train.
Parodies are made by fools like me
but only honey comes form the bee.
- J.A.Scott


Making A Point
When I first started taking poetry seriously, it was in High School when we were required to read and comment on what different poems meant. This poem quickly became a favorite as I always felt invisible to everyone else. Almost as if she were writing directly to me.

I'm Nobody!
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us - don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
- Emily Dickinson



Embracing the Dark Side
I'm a person who has always embraced my emotions, both positive and negative. So reading some thought provoking or ominous poems can be enjoyable. Many have heard of the Raven by Edgar Allan Poe, it's one I quite enjoy. Death is a part of life, and Poe captures the imagery of such quite fantastically. It's certainly worth a read. In my endeavour to be a well rounded writer, I've tried my own hand at writing poems of a darker nature. I've included one I recently did.

And Then…
It was a quiet and lonely night
As I closed my eyes in thought
Feeling the rush of wind on my face
And then I was scared no more
I was calm and my body went limp
Remembering the joy of youth
All was safe and I was happy
And then I remembered school
I was awkward and dysfunctional
But my friends were just as much
We were ready to take the world
And then I remembered Melinda
Had an embarrassing crush on her
She was my love and desire
But it was false and unrequited
And then I remembered Mary
Our wedding was delightful
Found someone who wanted me
Willing to give her all I could
And then realized it was a scam
And then I remembered all the fights
And then I remembered when she left
And then I remembered what I had done
And then I hit the ground
- J.A. Scott


So what do you think is the best poetry? Ooops, sorry. What varieties of poetry do you like, and which are you partial to?

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
- Lewis Carroll