XLII Haiku

What can better capture the truest essence of world’s most bombastic professional sporting event like poetry? The distillation of the purest spirit is surely the domain of the bards, and this is no less true if the subject involves the fierce clashing of will, and the violent collision of bodies on the turf. And so, in honor of our glorious Patriots and the bid for pigskin history, I bring you Superbowl Haiku.

Belicheck is grim.
The hoodie hides his head while
His lips stay clamped down.

Fourth down or field goal,
Rushing, blocking, blitzing. Sack!
The QB eats turf.

Arizona heat.
It don’t snow nor never rains.
Is it real football?

The beer. The hot wings.
The chips in salsa verde.
Eating and yelling.

A win by touchdown,
Field goal or the extra point.
Which one is sweeter?

Brady’s targeting
Computer is now locked on.
One fire is one kill.

There will be a shot
That will win the game. The hit
Heard around the world.

When Welker, Moss and
Stallworth are hot, Brady fires
Heat seeking missiles.

No pass game? No prob.
We hit the ground running it.
Right down their throats. Boom.

This misbegotten foray into "poetry" was inspired by the NPR program It's Only a Game, where they had a special feature on Superbowl Haiku. You can hear it HERE. Start listening at 40:35 into the program.