Here is my poem, SUPER BOWL, offered to all the football fans as they excitedly watch their favorite teams play, and hopefully win.
Cold Janus dumped six inches,
On Meadowlands’ battlefield.
The god of beginnings and transitions,
To test the flesh and spirit,
Or to squash the burning within.
Feral wild horse broncos,
Cavorting against surly seahawks.
Elusive hooves kicking up smoke,
Unfurled wings striking back a note.
Kindling the heart’s desire,
Still flaming despite a twist.
The field that lies before you,
Your point of view and skill.
To maneuver tackles, blocks, and sacks,
To watch if you will fumble,
And get pass all the downs.
Does this thing need a hybrid soul?
One who can stand within the gap?
Spectators in the stadium, cloaked against the freeze,
Chugging warmed-up beer and sipping hot cocoa.
Clamoring die-hard fans,
Watching bodies collide.
Armored in chest pads and cleats.
This time it was Manning versus Wilson,
Next year we’ll wait to see.
The rivalry that carries,
A willpower exploding fire.
Who will muster up the courage?
Displaying their magnificence,
And stand for all to see.
In life there’s always conflict,
A time to prop up fists.
It’s never certain that the strongman wins,
A feeble one can too.
At last the cold snow melted,
The field now clear and light.
A waxing crescent moon hovers above,
Displaying a fair landscape.
We watched in anticipation,
Glamorizing this one or that.
A bucking horse against a bird of prey,
Each outside its natural element.
In the end, from life’s viewpoint,
Rarely does it matter,
Who wins or who loses.
It’s all comes down to how the game is played,
And hope the best one triumphs.