How lucky we are the Olympics
Will be starting, this Friday, in France!
After all this political trauma,
We can wake from this terrible trance.
We can focus on swimming and tennis,
Gymnastics and polo and track.
Cheer for volleyball, diving and cricket
And not listen to pols talking smack.
There’ll be fencing and judo and hockey
And sailing and golf and lacrosse.
Once the athletes march in, all that fanfare
Will remind us there’s life after loss.
Decision making is an art
To make the right choice at the start
But now the robots have become the one
To find the truth begun and won
ChatGPT will write a student’s essay
Or a rousing speech to be your way
Just give it the facts to start
And in no time it’ll sound straight from the heart
They tried to make an online friend
TayTweet to converse and for relationships to defend
But they found the algorithm went bad
Being a racist sexist and homophobic cad
Some companies use AI to read CVs for culling
But one company found its decisions not inviting
Being skewed to Jared who played High School lacrosse
Such decisions made were at a loss
When gathering data it will reflect what society thinks
With research being found that past data has a wink
To what they are calling the pale male syndrome
Being for white males mainly shown
So we are slowly reaching a place
When computer says no is in the race
And Artificial Intelligence is part
Of the decision making art.
© Paul Warren Poetry
the little old man
said i think i can
climb a big ole mountain
but then again on the other hand
ski diving seems like titan
or maybe i could tight rope walk
over the Grand Canyon
fall to my death i might but hey I'm old
so, my life i could abandon
or maybe i will sail the world
looking for the Lochness monster
he maybe big but ill prove he is that
ugly sea monster
but then again that's to much
for i am a old man
so, across Europe i will stroll
upon a single hand
or maybe even hike the good appellation trial
a bear id come across
he'd be mad but he couldn't resist
when i teach him to play lacrosse,
oh, how i wish i could do these amazing things
but hey it's time for my nap
so that's my adventure for the day
i hit my pillow in my lap
Mystic mystical seas
Wayward soldier
it's not yet over
over yourself is just
being gone over
on the rising raging seas
your voyages just begun
Binding me and in raging seas
high at nautical pace your journey's
Journey course
it is of course
nautical lacrosse
at the raging marsh a
Nautical Navy soldier
2/5/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Would you like to tickle my doodle
I'll tickle yours if you also toot my bugle
What in tarnation
Is causing my palpitations
Caused by a game of lacrosse quite brutal
In the depths of a New York winter
I am waiting for the baseball season to start
My old man was a New York Giants fan
Even though he lived in Brooklyn
The Mets didn't exactly do well last year
But the cry "Wait till Next Year"
Rang out!!
With Al Jackson, Ron Hunt, Casey Stengel and the great Tom Seaver
The Mets battled on through the years
Hope to make it to some games next season
Only went to one by myself last year
Met a babe from San Diego
And told someone
"Maybe I'll go see a lacrosse game next
He said "I didn't hear that"
Let's go Mets!!
LORE OF LACROSSE
he plucks the eagle’s feathers
tucks them in his patient’s hair
cayuga’s legs and arms take flight
his eyes behold the heaven’s bright
a powerful bolt of lightening never rests
tossed to and fro with kindred brothers
seven men honor their thunder gods
serious and strong in their athletic prowess
as the game shines a final kiss, an honor
each man attentive, like an army with spears
they bury beloved cayuga with his game stick
a gifted man will continue play in the underworld
3/4/2017
Frank Herrera’s Native American Lore contest
A weapon based affiliation is neither a cat cavern or a divided field. Marshals could be described as marshmallows as they are often rounded mush balls. Often a cape is found staring at a calender in a midday glaze. But guidance from sandstorms glow in minds. Entering like breadsticks. Forcibly correcting wrongs in specifies locations globally. Wisdom is not held in a button or a shoe lace. And lacrosse is an extremely busy explosive experiment when attempted by nine foot rabbits. How wonderful it is to sit by a plumage which is radiating. Undirected individual skylights of assorted colours and hue. Adjusting with the many lights. Across all regions but where to put a sparrow is the question for a branch. Perched placed pecking. And one must always admire the flowing of elephant steps. How quite quickly they assemble and move. Latter day layers then. No hahahaha actually for the fractions of house us segmented. Jalapeño halogen bulbs. Xxxx terminology xxxx tripods. *** gravitational gravitation xxxx
Taken from an oak tree
Carved into a perfect circle
The first time ever thrown into the air
Caught, Cradled, Dropped
Scooped, Cradled, Passed, Caught, Dropped,
Scooped, Dropped
Scooped, Passed, Caught, Shot
An arrow pierces me
My fur stuffed into a spherical pelt of my skin
Stitched up and continuing flying through the air
Closer to my target
Past his stick, his head...
Tapped and harvested from the trees
My white goo solidified into a rounder shape
The final product
Soaring, coasting? gliding?
Just missing the orange metal pole
Flying into the woods
The voices fading away
Hitting the ground of the woods
Sitting, waiting to be scooped again
I am lost
Forever
You may feel about the planet what
you feel about a great baseball team or band:
that once there was a moment when, unknown
to us at the time, we convened
and lost and found ourselves in what we created.
Who should I thank for this day?
A fresh-mown lawn is a robin's repast.
A bear a black bear a rolling delicately dancing
graceful as silence sailing through the ferns and understory
unafraid and in no hurry.
My musician referral service, vacation rental business,
nonprofit management system, plant identification database,
great American songbook and anthology of poems. Coach says
in a thousand years back and forth games like lacrosse and soccer
will be played against genetically engineered primates
but baseball will be played solely by humans.
In a thousand years, amen.
My Profound Thousandth Poem
Dedicated to England and also
world renown poet Terry Cooper.
England is exciting place to be
Will enjoy it in every opportunity
People of pageantry are such a site
Forty in Round Table and were a knight.
There was Marlowe and Shakespeare
And Gainsborough to see far and near
Cathedrals, mighty castles with a moot
To see does require much time to devote.
In England is Rugby, Lacrosse and Soccer
Manchester being beaten is a real shocker
Weather will be cool and then end up warm
May need to be prepared for a mighty storm.
When you leave will want to return again
Which is exactly what we both intend
Was it mole in hole or pied piper in wall
Whatever it was old me just can't recall.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
and one of top 40 Poetry Soup Producers.
Here is my next sports rap poem. Jim
Round of Applause
Already now I must admit
What is it we have to hit?
How about homer with baseball
Not strike three they did call.
Why fool around and always fret
Should kick a goal into the net
Don't continue to turn and toss
Should go at and play Lacrosse.
How about football you will boot
Run and produce a lot of loot
Or hear those in high society
Prefer polo and love rugby.
No matter where chips may fall
God's life in you will be a ball
And who if in always do believe
Round of applause will receive.
WOW. Double WOW, and Triple WOW.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
Mason
Crazy, funny, energetic, strong.
Son of Mother, brother of Sister, grandson of Nann and Granpa.
Lover of Lacrosse, School, and Animals.
Who feels confidence, responsibility and is muscular.
Who needs hats, sunglasses, and an Under Armour shirt.
Who gives to the needy, Animals, and Mother Earth.
Who fears Tigers, Bears and Unicorns.
Who would like to see the Grand Canyon and England.
Resident of America.
Masmann.
( thoughts from the mind of an 11 year old )
It’s mid-October, and the cool morning air
refreshes and replenishes the players as they march
across a muddy lacrosse field, the low sun
that manages to peek through the gray clouds
glistening off the beady surface of grass blades.
The stage is set for glory.