Tennis, World Cup, Baseball, Poetry. And, I buried the lead. Again.
Poetry is said to be emotion set to words.
Which, if the poetry is good, is deep and satisfying and stays with you like the memory of those crazy-good chocolate-chipotle and salted caramel gelatos from Splendora’s that I just started thinking about … and now I can’t shake.
Not all poetry is good.
But, good poetry doesn’t need to be long or deep or hard to cut through.
This is good poetry. It’s one of my favorite poems that I recite to myself nearly every day.
See, poetry can be beautiful and useful, too.
(I might argue that “Suckity, suck, suck” which sometimes slips out of me when the Orioles go bad at about the sixth inning is poetry, too. Not beautiful, but there’s a certain rhythmic honesty to it, don’t you think?)
Most important, poetry must be just-so. Just the right amount of words and rhythm and voice to convey an emotion or a thought. And, nothing more.
One of my clients was at the French Open and when I asked him how it was he said simply, “Roger Federer is poetry.”
Federer is nearing the end of his career and was defeated early on in the Open, but, I knew what he meant.
Poetry in writing and in athletics and in Yoga … is when you don’t do too much, but you do just enough.
It appears effortless, even when you know that it isn’t.
You can see here, that my client is right about Federer.
And, here’s World Cup poetry. Guillermo Ochoa is the goalkeeper for Mexico. During this week’s game against heavily favored Brazil, they played to a tie, and Ochoa did this.
But, a tie, strangely enough, leaves the story untied, untidy, and unfinished.
A good poem, like a good baseball game, will always end. On Tuesday, it took the University of Virginia Cavaliers 15 innings, and nearly five hours, to defeat Texas Christian University in the College World Series.
UVa Shortstop Daniel Pinero had two errors in the game, including one that led to an unearned run for TCU.
But, poetry has a habit sometimes of wrapping things up neatly, forgiving the sins of the past, and making things just-so. Like this.
A good poem will hold you. It’s too beautiful to turn away.
Watching LA Dodger Clayton Kershaw pitch is always poetry. Seemingly effortless and beautiful to watch.
Listening to longtime broadcaster Vin Scully call a Dodger’s game, something he’s been doing for 65 years, is poetry, too. The rhythm, the words, and the beautiful silence that stretches between. Just right.
To see Kershaw pitch a no-hitter this week, with Scully sitting beside you … forget the rest of this post. THIS is poetry.
“And now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit back and watch it with you.”
And, here’s Part 2 … Fauxetry In Motion.