Sunday, September 23, 2007

You Would Think A Bunch of Professionals Would Have Better Things to Do with Their Time

But I'm glad they don't. In angst over their very-likely-to-be-oh-and-eight team, my husband and some friends came up with these haiku about Notre D football this year. Yes, haiku about a major college football team. There are some nerds there, really. And this is how they amuse each other. Note: these were written after the Penn State loss and before the Michigan loss, mostly. We'll have to see if 0-4 inspires any new grief-transformed to poetry.

Dusk falls on south quad
Frosh go for the mystery meat
We eat cereal

Beer flows like water
For smug young Republicans
We are ND

Touchdown Jesus
Greets a sea of green plaid pants
The team better win

Letters carved in stone
Spell “God, country, Notre Dame”
I smell Ethanol

Will publish haiku chapbook.
Sell nights at Food Sales.

M blue Irish out!
Autumn February skies.
Trojans score a hundy!

Shoo! Boy g(c)an come back!
Bitterness comes in dipthongs
Feb not only mean month

OH, and three. I care?
Hardly. Want all my money.
Degrees seem worthless.

True story haiku.

In a parking lot
Guy sees my decal. “Tough year.”

This year, unlike past
I’ll compete with my neighbors
For a leaf-free lawn.

Loser football players
deserve no special treats, just
girls in sweats always

Golden Domers cry
Not due to football; because
February sucks

Bitter South Bend cold
Screaming Otter blues

Archies draw, not write.
Other majors craft haikus.
C'mon architects!

JoePa threw the pick
That gave us the seven points.
So don’t kid yourself.

State didn’t learn much,
Said the papers on Monday,
Because we suck so hard.

Oh-and-two teams enter:
One team must win. Defining:
“I couldn’t care less.”

Back to the mines, kids!
The football team sucks this year.
Pick, shovel, light, canary.

The thick envelope
Held Saturday fantasies:
Goddamn Library.

Karmicly bad day
For our poor Father Jenkins.
Win for Ty. Our loss.

Buildings go up high
Mavens of industry rise
They fail to impress

Architects strangle
Our dreams that are immortal
Make them pay for ink

Each night I draw curves
To build a better next day
The sun shows my errors

Football weekend starts
As architects build to last
All souls go to heaven

Man, Rutgers alums
Are scoring points off me now.
Fire someone, dammit.

Oh and two go blue!
And gold, we sigh for glory
lost in media

Freshmen quarterbacks
a novel situation
I weep for lost youth

One nineteenth rank'd "O"
Rally sons of Notre Dame
Hold on to recruits

Old geeks cry in beer
At loss to describe team woes
Consoled by haiku

More beer bartender
And change to NBC please
Hey you're kind of cute

Poets' names hidden to protect from rabid alumni!

1 comment:

Lauren said...

Oh my word, this is insane. Yet fun. Why didn't I go to a football school? Take me to your people.