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A Summer Sporting Haiku
Wimbledon again.
No surprises with Venus
But Raph beats Roger!
Following is the picking of a nit; ignore if you'll spazz:
Wimbledon again.
No surprises with Venus
But Raf beats Roger!
My addition:
Marathon it was;
Both men played their very best!
The stuff of legends...
:0)
Devoured eagerly
in betweeen morning toast
tennis anyone?
Originally Posted By: twosleepyFollowing is the picking of a nit; ignore if you'll spazz:
Wimbledon again.
No surprises with Venus
But Raf beats Roger!
My addition:
Marathon it was;
Both men played their very best!
The stuff of legends...
:0)
Unlike some, The Pook do not indulge in 'spazzing'
Besides, you're quite right, that is a validly picked nit. I was momentarily forgetting his Spanish background and anglicizing his name!
Over here it was on until about four in the morning. I went to bed after Fedex lost the first two sets. Must have been an amazing rest of the match!
Last edited by The Pook; 07/07/08 05:33 AM.
I, having built a house, reject
The feud of eye and intellect,
And find in my experience proof
One pleasure runs from root to roof,
One thrust along a streamline arches
The sudden star, the budding larches.
The force that makes the winter grow
Its feathered hexagons of snow,
And drives the bee to match at home
Their calculated honeycomb,
Is abacus and rose combined.
An icy sweetness fills my mind,
A sense that under thing and wing
Lies, taut yet living, coiled, the spring.
-- Jacob Bronowski (from Science and Human Values).
Last edited by TheFallibleFiend; 07/07/08 01:28 PM.
It was truly worth the price of admission... There were some shots in there that were amazing and both of them gave their best to the final strokes. I am glad I could watch it live, despite the rain delays, and I can truly say by the last set, I didn't care who would win. I love Federer, but Nadal had earned the right to contend and win. They are both great tennis players, and will hopefully continue their rivalry for years to come... :0)
Mother, Summer, I by Philip Larkin
My mother, who hates thunder storms,
Holds up each summer day and shakes
It out suspiciously, lest swarms
Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there;
But when the August weather breaks
And rains begin, and brittle frost
Sharpens the bird-abandoned air,
Her worried summer look is lost,
And I her son, though summer-born
And summer-loving, none the less
Am easier when the leaves are gone
Too often summer days appear
Emblems of perfect happiness
I can't confront: I must await
A time less bold, less rich, less clear:
An autumn more appropriate.
I love that poem. Never heard of Philip Larkin, who is he?
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