Slam Poetry Slam

by: Peter Bodo | September 22, 2009

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Howdy. I've got a few chores to do here at work this morning and I have to write a story on Devin Britton for the magazine (I'll soon write a post about him here as well). Since the ATP and WTA events going on this week are hardly critical, except to those involved in them, I also want to take a last look back at the US Open, which I'll do later today if I have time - or tomorrow.

Meanwhile, TennisWorld's poet laureate, Madame Highpockets, reports that she struggled with her muse this time around, but still managed to limp to the finish line with yet another paen to a Grand Slam. So here's her ode to the 2009 US Open, and if anybody can figure out what she means with those last two lines, please write. My own reaction to those last two lines is, This must be great poetry because I don't understand it! Isn't that how it works these days?

Okay, I'm being a little coy here, but one of the reasons I'm fond of Robinson Jeffers (Roan Stallion, Hurt Hawks, etc.) is because I understand what I'm reading and just. . . read it. Carefully, perhaps. Even savoring the sound of the words, maybe. But there's no  head-scratching, no halting at an intellectual red light to try figure out what the hail the guy or lady is talking about.

Of course, our poet laureate's verse is almost unfailingly vivid and clear as a bell, so enjoy!

This is a Your Call post.

- Pete

                       Flushing Memories

by Highpockets

I have to confess I’ve been feeling befuddled;
My synapses aren’t firing; my mind is all muddled.
I want to say something; I want to be clear,
But all I can think of is “Yikes, what a year!”
I’ve considered retiring and then coming back
With my mind sharp and fresh and my mojo intact,
But I can’t give up, though I’m feeling uneasy,
So here is my poem and it will be cheesy:
I’ll remember this Open for a girl full of heart,
Who ambushed three Russians, showing grit from the start.
I’ll remember this Open for it gave tennis a spot
In the twenty-four hour, news-cycle plot.
I’ll remember this Open for a mom with a smile,
A steely resolve and a beautiful child.
I’ll remember this Open for Earley’s tough job,
And Federer’s tweener to Djokovic’s lob.
I’ll remember this Open for a buff, shirtless Spaniard,
Whose fan was ejected by a dude with a lanyard.
I’ll remember this Open for a tirade gone viral,
A champion’s rage and a media spiral.
I’ll remember this Open for Americans winning,
Until the fourth round; then they started the thinning,
I’ll remember this Open for Robin’s resilience;
He stood up to Roger and challenged his brilliance.
I’ll remember this Open for Gonzo’s deflation,
And Murray succumbing to stress and frustration.
I’ll remember this Open for foot faults and fuming,
Glorious weather and clouds ever looming.
I’ll remember this Open for Novak’s redemption,
J-Mac on Ashe, and NASCAR’s preemption.
I’ll remember this Open for an Argentine star,
Whose speech in his tongue was eclipsed by a car.
I’ll remember this Open for that dark day of gloom,
When everyone mourned, play would not resume.
I’ll remember this Open for Del Potro’s tears,
He slew two great dragons,impressing his peers.
But of all of my memories, the one that won’t wane
Are those two beams of light through that curtain of rain.

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