This week's poem is another that has been lurking in the back of my mind for the right time. Anne Bradstreet is also the appropriate poetical choice this week because many of her poems were written in response to some injury or illness a loved one was suffering or had suffered. Fortunately, I have not written a poem about every Bulldog injured; I had no desire to earn the dreaded "tl;dr." Bradstreet also wrote tributes to the dead; I resisted the temptation to parody one of those because
I was too lazy to write more than one poem, as we know, SEC East races can take wacky twists and turns. To quote the Black Knight:
Pictured: Our defense in tackling mode (and wearing spiffy alternate unis).
Maybe I'm in denial, but to my way of thinking, we're not dead yet. "The Author to her Book" uses the metaphor of a child to describe the book the narrator has written; she still loves the "child" in spite of its numerous faults. And so it is with our team; here's hoping we can pull out a win this weekend. As for the last line, I told y'all I'd find a way to work that in there. Consider it a tribute to our "no D" writing attempts (which I contemplated doing but decided that I wanted to be able to refer to the defense). With apologies to Anne Bradstreet
and the letter D:
Our hobbl'd offense formed of freshmen true
joins forces with our cobbl'd defense, too.
They snatcht some wins from loss by guts and luck
but got exposed by Tigers run amok.
Our youth and hurts froze our offense's fire-
like errors in the redzone (to fans' ire).
At D's no-show, our cursing was not small;
our rambling rants (in print) said "fire all."
We wanted to believe that we could win,
but knowledge and experience were too thin.
Yet being our Dawgs, at length affection will
their blemishes accept-we're Bulldogs still.
Against the Dores, more defects we will see.
Dear defense, please hold them to under thirty-three.
Dear offense, please don't run it up the gut
on every redzone play-avoid that rut.
We better score more than three points per drive;
pretty, pretty please, don't run another dive.
This game, Murray, Dore defense please do shred;
and should we score, D, please keep us ahead.
And, punting team, please hold your little shield;
please don't unto the charging Commies yield.
And should the game come down to field goal kick,
remember that Coach Franklin is a ick.