My poem in honor of the Super Bowl: The Soaring Pass

[CaliforniaPeggy]

The soaring pass
Lifts our hearts
It floats
Into his reaching hands

The crowd holds its breath
As the ball spirals down

He leaps
And his arms swing up
A fluid move into
The catch
Our breath stops
Our eyes and hearts too

So young
The gift of motion from the gods
The perfect balance
The muscles play

He has no clue
Someday he’ll fail
Or limp
Stumble
Or be hurt

Right now
He’s a graceful boy
Who takes the spiraling ball
To victory

[NYC_SKP]

1. Why, that's a lovely poem!

"The Soaring Pass"

I'm a Steelers fan so it's even better! :thumbsup:

[CaliforniaPeggy]

2. My dear NYC_SKP!

I heard about the catch Santonio Holmes got...

And that was the inspiration for this!

Glad you enjoyed this, sweetie...

Thank you!

:hi:

[NYC_SKP]

3. I saw just the best parts, got lucky.

I was watching cooking shows, flipping now and again.

I seemed to hit the high points, a major touchdown, then a turnover, then watched the last few minutes and the terrific ending.

Your poem would fit so well to video the miracle receptions, played in super slow motion!

:toast:

[CaliforniaPeggy]

4. What a nice thought!

Thanks, sweetie...

:toast:

[BlueIris]

5. Hey! Nice work. Sports poetry is cool. nt

[CaliforniaPeggy]

7. My dear BlueIris!

Thank you so much!

I don't generally write sports poetry, but this one showed up and so I wrote it down...

Glad you enjoyed this one!

:hi:

[Robeson]

6. Wonderful, Peg. I think you'll like this. It's certainly in the same...

...vein..

All, all is flight!
All loss and ept recovery.
We search the flawless air
And make discovery of projectile tossed-
The center of our being.
This is the only way of seeing;
To run half blind, half in the sad, mad world,
Half out of mind-
The goal line beckons,
And with each yard we pass,
We reckon that we win, by God, we win!
Surely to run, to run and measure this,
This gain of tender grass
Is not a sin to be denied?
All life we've tried and often found contempt for us!
So on we hied to lesser gods
Who treat us less as clods and more like men
Who would be kings a little while.
Thus we made up this mile to run
Beneath a late-on-in-the-afternoon-time sun.
We chalked aside the world's derisions
With our gamebook's rulings and decisions.
So divisions of our won good manufacture
Staked the green a hundred yards, no more, no less.
The Universe sad "No"?
We answered, running, "Yes!"

---excerpt from Ray Bradbury "All Flesh is One: What Matter Scores?"

[CaliforniaPeggy]

8. My dear Robeson!

Oh, sweetie!

I hardly think I compare at all to Ray Bradbury, whose work I greatly respect and enjoy!

But still, I thank you...

Glad you enjoyed it...

:hug:

[Lionel Mandrake]

9. I like this poem very much.

It reminds me of Irwin Shaw's short story, The Eighty-Yard Run.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

10. My dear Lionel Mandrake!

Why, thank you!

I have always admired Irwin Shaw, and being compared to him is very agreeable...

That's a great story of his...Some of the sentences still show up in my head from time to time...

Glad you enjoyed my poem.

[Gonzo Gardener]

11. Tackling sports poetry now, eh?

It's a touchdown!

:applause:



Every Super Bowl is the same for me. I sit just long enough to watch the teams run onto the field, read their body language, correctly call the winner, and walk out of the room until the next year's big game. I've only called it wrong once in the last 24 years. Who wants to take me to Vegas?

[CaliforniaPeggy]

13. My dear Gonzo Gardener!

Yup, I am, at least this once!

I heard about an incredible catch, and this poem was the result...

Glad you like it!

Thanks, sweetie...

:hug:

[evlbstrd]

12. Nice!

Very well done, Peggy.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

14. My dear evl!

Aw, thanks, sweetie!

Glad you like it!

:hug: