Football

Football is the greatest sport,
Stout of heart and firm of soul-
The men who play; the toughest sort,
They push ahead to score the goal.

One hundred yards define the field,
Ten yards to keep the ball once more,
The defense makes the offense yield-
So they can have the ball and score.

A key man is the quarterback,
Strategic play for offense found,
Now execute; avoid the sack,
Advance the ball and gain some ground.

The running backs; receivers know,
From quarterback the ball is giv’n,
By handoff or each pass he’ll throw,
And up the field the ball is driv’n.

The defense tries to stop this drive,
Defensive backs; the line holds firm,
On turnovers defenses thrive,
Each one achieved makes offense squirm.

The game is on; players alert,
One hour of toil; an awful grind,
To play in rain on sod or dirt,
Each player hopes the strength they’ll find.

Through pass and run the ball advanced,
Each ten yards gained they move the sticks-
Toward the end zone your chance enhanced,
To make a touchdown; score is six.

For extra point the kicker’s job,
To have the ball placed in his sights,
Now kick the ball with upward lob,
And place it ‘tween the two uprights.

If offense chance of goal might die,
It’s fourth down now, the ball is set-
To kick the ball; a field goal try,
And three more points the team will get.

One team will win and one must fail,
With final outcome and the score,
And if the home team does prevail,
The fans approve with cheers that roar!

Peter Lowell Paulson
September 24, 2012

Constellation Fun

The sky a royal azure blue on clear as crystal night,
I saw the little dipper pouring stardust brilliant bright,
The dust it fell into Orion’s eyes; he woke too soon,
He swung his club and hit a star which landed on the moon.

The cratered moon it spun around two times or maybe three,
A thousand comets flew straight out, oh what a sight to see,
Two hundred comets plopped into the great Big Dipper’s cup,
They scattered so and clattered so it woke Orion’s pup.

Now Sirius, so serious his barking startled so,
That Scorpio, the scorpion would skitter to and fro,
This frazzled, dazzled arthropod he whipped and flipped his tail,
His stinger stuck the backside of the Great Bear; did he wail.

And to the utter wonderment of heaven near and far,
The Great Bear roared so loud this night it moved the morning star,
Apollo with his chariot; each gold and fiery horse,
He snapped his reins they galloped forward on their dawning’s course.

So if one wintry night you see a dark blue azure sky,
And morning light comes earlier and you just wonder why,
Just look again, and listen close you may hear the Great Bear,
And Scorpio or Sirius just having fun up there.

Peter Lowell Paulson
September 22, 2011

Poet's Lament

Why languor such the poet duty; love,
Such squandered time, an exploration vain,
For truth or virtue or the value of-
A search for nothing more than bitter pain.

Yet on and on in torment and lament,
Of life committed to these sordid spheres,
A reader drawn to follow must consent,
To misery, or wallow in his fears.

Don’t get me wrong I love the poet’s verse,
The syntax, cadence and the use of rhyme,
It’s just that I don’t want to feel worse,
Or spend my hours in Sheol every time.

Cathartic it may be to wrench the soul,
To put in words the awkward bitter strife,
My hope is that it helped him to be whole,
To journal this, the sour side of life.

No! Give me roars of deep the sapphire seas,
Or tall majestic mountains capped with snow,
The snap of cold and orange autumnal trees,
A baby’s laugh or bright red Christmas bow!

Peter Lowell Paulson
September 17, 2011

Seven Silly Sea Serpents

Seven silly sea serpents all swimming out at sea,

They swam into my harbor and I yelled, “Please play with me!”

We splished and splashed and rode Ski Doos until a half past three,

And then they said, We have to go", and slithered out to sea.

As I was walking on the beach, oh my, what did I see,

I saw those silly sea serpents, all seven did I see,

I said, “We should play in the park and we can play for free”,

So in the park we swang the swings; we’d see-saw then saw-see!

So now the silly sea serpents were friends, yes friends with me,

There’s Fred, Frank, Bill, Bert, Joe and Jay, and little Walter Lee,

These brothers, they just liked to play and had a family,

Now we could play most every day from noon ‘til half past three.

The seven silly sea serpents lived way, way out at sea,

Where Puff the Dragon got his fame in a land called Honalee,

One day my Dad and Mom and I sailed out so we could be-

A part of their Sea Serpent Day; a gallant Jamboree!

We hopped aboard a special float for Dad and Mom and me,

For we were special guests this day, they called us “honorees”,

My seven silly sea serpents all sang and yelled with glee,

And just like Puff the Dragon we’d go down in history!

Peter Lowell Paulson

September 15, 2011

Life is Good

Greet everyone enthusiastically,
With enthusiasm,
Not bouncing off walls,
Not giddy,
But smiling and sincere,
Happy their here,
Elated in the event,
Celebrating the encounter,
As if experiencing a visit from your long lost Grandma,
Each person unique,
A divine inspiration in life,
You’re here, they’re here,
Don’t waste a moment,
If it has been years or a day,
You’re back together again,
Or for the first time,
Everyone loves a smile,
Everyone!
Most will smile,
And if they scowl they’ll wonder…
“What did I do to deserve this today?”
You know the secret,
You’re alive,
And life is good,
And God is great!
Yeah!!

Peter Lowell Paulson
September 9, 2011

Living Life in the Middle

Did you ever want to solve this riddle,
What it’s like living life in the middle,
Deep in love with that girl from school,
Watching grandkids splashing in the pool.

Oh, girl did you ever think we’d make it,
Making love and never have to fake it,
You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever known,
Living life like a rolling stone.

Hand in hand taking walks in the park,
Under covers kissing after dark,
We’re still dancing and I feel the heat,
I see you walking and my heart skips a beat.

Thinking future and we make our will,
Kids expecting, baby what a thrill,
Final days they seem so out of reach,
Grab your towel were heading for the beach.

Foolin’ round underneath the ocean wave,
Still slap my hand say, “Now behave!”
Yes girl, you were the only one,
Every morning ‘til the setting sun!

Peter Lowell Paulson
September 3, 2011

The Grasshopper

Still life within this urban dwelling seen,
A grasshopper so far from field and stream,
Lone lifeless shell of life lived well is here?
So out of place; a foreign place to die.

You stir such distance memories e’en now,
I’d thrill to hear you play your happy song,
To see you jump and fly from grasping hands,
You did not bite so you were quite the friend.

Once caught a pure delight ensued within,
The wonder in our eyes to see you close,
Upon our little palms you’d sit and stare,
And startle little hearts you’d fly away.

Once caught we’d close our little hand to keep,
And carry you to show neighbor or friend,
With open hand to show the prize we’d found,
You stained our hands with brown disgusting goo.

We flipped you off to wipe away your stain,
Our friends all laughed to see our grimaced face,
And one would laugh and say, “It’s no big deal”,
“He spits tobacco when he is afraid!”

Profound and pondered fact has entered in,
Imagination is the fondest friend,
The grasshopper is just an old, old man,
He hops, he sings, but spits when he is mad.

This lad he lingers with his fearless thought,
And off again to catch the winged thing,
To hold it near and stare into his eye,
And say, “Now don’t you spit at me again!”

Perhaps a child on field trip did find,
Long legged friend he took you from your home,
You spit into his hand and he released-
You into such a strange and distant place.

And now a man I see my fallen friend,
I’ve reached to pick you up and hold once more,
And carry you a mile or two to find,
A grassy field; now home to rest in peace.

Peter Lowell Paulson
September 1, 2011