Long Berra Poems
Long Berra Poems. Below are the most popular long Berra by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Berra poems by poem length and keyword.
Yogi Berra said:
In theory there is no difference from practice.
In practice, there is
Applying this to communication theory:
In nonviolence theory
there is no difference from practice
of win/win compassion.
Yet, in Business as Win/Lose Usual
Patriarchal political monoculturing practice
and Capital monopolistic economic intent
there are no virtues calculated for compassionate communication,
for merciful bipartisan political views,
and co-redemptive forgiveness
for matricidal sins
of our StraightWhite Patriarchs
Ignorant about healthy polycultural,
resilient,
therapeutic,
synergetic relationships
in response to systemic trauma.
Nonviolent communication orthodoxy
enlightens every thing
but nothing merely pleasant prevails.
Compassion's transparent and vulnerable win/win practice
unveils every healthy peak relationship
becoming crown/root
mind/body
co-empowered
but no one self-contained person
knows why silent wisdom
feels more comprehensive
than voiced knowledge
as verb action choices
feel more committed
than nouned voices
of love.
In our Earth-Healing lab,
nonviolent verbal theory
and compassionate nonverbal practice
are bicamerally combined:
nothing win/lose prevails
and every resilient relationship
co-passionately feels why
not 1 AND not 0 theoretical
universal convex AND unitarian concave
bilateral communication assumptions
do not not positively comply
with Earth's Whole Open EcoSystemic
virtuously therapeutic multicultural practice
of avoiding viciously competitive
1-DominantYang v 0-RecessiveYin
colonizing practices
for lack of sufficiently inclusive
warm and boundless
peak passion/pleasure gratitude
Positive fore-given-nest
EarthTribal
renouned verb-alive-able
1/0 co-empathic ecstatic
win/win polypathic attitude.
Now that I have gotten that over with,
Being straightforward as a piss-ant on fire,
Telling you it just is what it is,
That behind all the frizz,
Is a beardless fake whose heraldic bearings
Are the arms of a sickly snake,
And that all this derogatory self-derision is decisively the result
Of a disease smitten assault by a prodigal bug
Whose virility is known to create sterility of poetic taste-
Oh what a waste to find oneself in such a caste,
Outcast in a landless mire of sea,
Where there is no Sea king to lead back to land,
Where seeking leads not to seeing
But only to being the miserly plot written by this poetasters hand-
Now, to repeat, that I have gotten that over with,
I can really try,
Once and for all,
To really get it over with.
Like really really real.
So here it is,
In medias res,
The big ordeal:
Merde! Merde!
J’ai oublié on this very day,
To have taken my ressurectine,
The nectar which this fool requires with some dismay
To not forget his pointless points.
Where is my medicine Edison?
Where is my pill?
How shall I cart this over the hill?
O’sir,
Dear sir,
For in the middle of this rabid petri dish of sheer excitement,
Close to moiety’s shribble,
With voice shrill,
Ready to take aim and avoid all shame,
I was, I was, I was, I swear
Almost there,
But alas,
I am,
Now out of gas,
With nothing more to gain,
A timid loveless swain,
A witless poet with no further words to amass,
A neutered puppy in a jungle,
Without a rumble,
To stumble upon just the right word,
To close off looking less like a turd,
Then this early morning bird,
Preferably one day,
Could theoretically mumble.
Did I mention that between finding Absolute Knowledge,
And miming Absolute Knowledge,
I would like to find myself snuggly ensconced in the arms,
Of not only Winnie the Pooh,
But surely Yogi Berra too?
New York, New York, the road in the fork
of the events, the places and folks who've buttered the pork
Like Rockefeller, Moynihan and Andrew Cuomo
Frank Sinatra, Louie Armstrong, John Lenon and Yoko Ono
Lenny Bernstein and Lenny Bruce
Cookie Monster, Rocky and Bullwinkle Moose
There's Radio City, Central Park and Carnegie Hall
Coney Island, Yankee Stadium -- Let's Play Ball!
The Brooklyn Bridge on the Hudson River
Lower East Side and the Village, for swingin' livers
Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle and White Ford
Don't forget Casey Stengel and Yogi Berra -- Oh, my Lord!
Marilyn Monroe, Madonna and Phyllis Diller in curlers
Archie Bunker, the Meathead, Anne Meara and Jerry Stiller
Stooge-mania, West Side Story and Annie Hall
Kramden, Norton and the Honeymooners
You've seen or heard of 'em all
There's Madison Square Garden and the NY Philharmonic
The Times and Wall Street Journal -- news junkies tonics
Malcolm X, Dr. King, and Abe Saperstein
Julius Erving / Dr. J with a case of Afro-sheen
Baldies like Kojac and Yul Brynner, the King of Siam
Sam I Am, Son of Sam, Green Eggs and Ham
Harlem Globetrotters, the Apollo, Kareem Abdul Jabbar
Jay Leno, Ed McMahon and Johnny Carson, the great Jack Paar
There's Broadway, Times Square, Soho and Fifth Avenue
Isaac Stern, Pavoratti, Willie Nelson and Ray Charles singin' the blues ...
Make a list from the Statue of Liberty all the way up to Mars
~ You still might leave out a legacy of constellations and stars!
"Always go to other people's funerals, otherwise they won't come to yours."
Yogi Berra
I read it and I laughed, and each time I laughed, recognizing it for its humor.
Why would we care who or whether anyone comes to our funeral?
Unless we throw it for ourselves ahead of time.
Which I always thought was a better idea anyway
Especially if we have a disease like bone cancer,
and we know we are dying.
All of our friends could collect at the pub or the church
And say good things about us
To me this is the only reason anyone should actually to a funeral.
When the guest of honor is gone no one knows you anyway
Of course if you are from a small town it is a social gathering
Four funerals a week would not be too many for those people
It beats watching people from their porch swings
The New York Yankees have made winning a tradition.
They’ve won for years despite periodic transition.
Since the twenties, the Yankees have won many a game.
Their yearly teams had many players achieving fame.
The most successful team in history is the truth
The twenties decade started out with men like Babe Ruth,
Bob Meusel, Tony Lazzeri, Joe Dugan, Mark Koenig,
Waite Hoyt, Red Ruffing, Lefty Gomez, and Lou Gehrig,
The thirties and forties brought some continued progress,
and it continued into the fifties with success.
There was Bill Dickey, Tommy Henreich, Snuffy Stirnweiss,
Allie Reynolds, Vic Rashi, and Joe DiMaggio.
There was Yogi Berra, Hank Bauer, Phil Rizzuto.
Many more players followed having such great prowess,
Mickey Mantle, Elston Howard, and Roger Maris.
They were full of stars that would win many an award,
with Ed Lopat, Mel Stottlemyre, and Whitey Ford.
There was a short dry spell for some years in the sixties,
but they came back with great players in the seventies.
Having Ron Guidry, Willie Randolph, Reggie Jackson,
Roy White, Bucky Dent, Graig Nettles, and Thurman Munson.
The Bronx Bombers’ tradition continues to today.
Modern-day teams are formidable in every way.
Go see them play at Yankee Stadium night or day.
“Doing the little things can make a big difference.”-Yogi Berra
**************************************************************
A Tipping Balance
Dipped down the depth of a ditch by vile men
And shattered by the heartless hands of fate
I swayed with hope at the tip of one end,
At other, dark despair drowning me straight.
It was a tough tug of war with despair
Oft driving me to doors of depression
And hope at times lifting me up from scare
Of sinking in stormy seas of tension.
In time the flame of faith in the divine
Doled out a tipping balance towards hope
That did in my life steer some streaks of shine
And altered the contours of my life`s scope.
Now with hope and the flame of faith aligned
The tipping balance rests with the divine
The two most dominant baseball pitchers of their eras
On the mound, neither was cute or clever
Each reared back and fired
No matter if they were dead-tired
Sandy Koufax and Nolan Ryan
Most batters gave up even tryin’
The great Yogi Berra once said
I understand how Koufax won 25 games last year”
But how he lost five games just isn’t clear”
Koufax deemed Ryan’s lack of pinpoint control his secret weapon
He labeled Ryan a wild bombardier
Who won games because his wayward 100 mph pitches instilled fear
More baseball teams will play today,
The season in full swing.
For fans who’ve waited months, there is
Much joy that this will bring.
A friend who read my prior poem,
Comparing life to sport,
Responded with an observation
That I’d cut life short.
For even if we find ourselves,
In years, close to the end,
So many other factors may
Our time on earth extend.
Since there are extra innings played
In certain baseball games,
The bottom of the ninth might not
Be all that it proclaims.
So thank you, Ira, for that note -
We may not be in clover,
But quoting Yogi Berra,
“It ain’t over ‘til it’s over!”
World Series, back in '56,
Against the Brooklyn Dodgers,
Will always be remembered
And not just by some old codgers.
For the Yankee pitcher did what none
Had ever done before
Or since - a perfect game,
With 2 to zip the final score.
Don Larsen was that pitcher
And, at 90, he just died.
His feat's not been repeated
Though some aces surely tried.
The ending, made immortal
In an image that still charms,
Shows the catcher, Yogi Berra,
Leaping into Larsen's arms.
I hope that record always stands,
Indelible in baseball lore -
Perfection in a Series game;
What fan could wish for any more?