Another offering for National Poetry Month.
This is for all those who feel that sports is incapable of being an art, or poetry, or beauty. (I don't think any of those read my blog, but I suppose you never know.)
the passion of the play
You throng who find in contests but
an infinite procession of
bats, balls, and running, jumping—what
you miss! (Look at the sky above:
Do you see only endless dots?
Or in the rolls of history,
but names and dates—bereft of thoughts
and love, and pride—exclusively?
A narrative from breath to breath
we savor in our champion's flight:
War without anger, without death;
Force without peril, without spite.
Drink you of whiskey or of wine,
imbibe you spirited design!
Copyright © 2013 Brian Tung