A poem from Beans
Hubby....
My husband is a NASCAR fan
he was there when it began
Driving Dragsters he did for years.
As for me, I have my fears.
Watching wrecks is NOT my thing
Yet, as they race that ring
CRASH, BANG, BOOM
It's all so loud!
And even worse when IN the crowd.
The "Big One" seems to be expected.
NOT a game I respected.
But I've learned...
No matter what,
NASCAR runs, and hubby struts.
the olympics sure was grand
Maus shared one with us about his cars
Fast Cars
by Wasser B. Maus
<kofff>
Vette's and Porches, MG's and Ferrari's. all go zoom zoom,
Across the Deserts and around the Mountains, make room.
For here we come, sifting our gears, better to just let us pass,
Sleek and shiny, roaring and squealing rubber, we give it gas.
Wind rushing so fast, trees and rocks nothing but flying a blur,
Thoughts flash past, spinning wheels stream, Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
<bow>
the end
GINRO shared a poem with us about his favorite sport, Baseball!
-Baseball-
Center
To him, there is no "out field"
All the field belongs to him, no boundaries,
Either for him to catch or lose the game
Second
The one who put himself in the world of millisecond
Catching it merely makes it,
Outing the runner is expected,
Fastness in getting the ball out of the glove,
That's what makes their play, reckoned
Shortstop
It is the position of natural talent or effort
Quickened sense, rightful judgment to
Either catch the ball or hitting it with glove
to change the course for the out fielders
He is the key to the team's fort
Third
The position that requires for him to turn
his body into tool
At times to catch, at times to throw
Simply, not allowed to let the third base runner to return
Right
No one is behind him to support his miss
He is the last one standing to guard the field
The miss in him, turn the game to abyss
First
His fielding skill changes the how the game goes
He is the Kerberos, the guardian
Never letting runner advanced
In his play, the opponent woes
Left Fielder
He lives for just one play, that really gets the game
Laser beam in his sure aim
All the member relies on him
Pitcher
He is the only one that is named to be the Ace
Pitcher alone stands
in heightened mound,
Heavy trust put upon him
Even if a throw is directed by the catcher,
It is him, the one who must face the hit
Catcher
Slow to be completed
The only one who see the field in front
Directing pitchers, Reading and philosophizing the batters,
The game starts, when the ball leave his partner's hand
The Team
We are the nine
Together we shine
On the ground with clear blue sky
Never to let audience sigh
Like Gazelle we run,
All in all in the end,
Players and Audiences, all will surely have Fun
We all had so much fun talking about sports and cars and sports cars that before we knew it the hour had passed! We then started our group poem and this is what we came up with...
Cars galore, petals to the metal against the floor
we can all drive to the baseball game ...FAST
Gives bumps and bruises, dead cats galore
reflecting lights and shines, the uphill winds take your mind
to relaxing places as one cruises the highways
wind in my hair sun on my back there is nothing I lack
but a pretty scarf to keep my hair in place
Laughing at people when we splash them with the big puddles
Muse Urania: grinning we speed away before karma can respond
spraying mud, every thing n dripping off
shouting out of the window "OUT OF THE WAY CAT"!
