No Problem — Poetry

Poetry

Some people might say that I am a rhymer rather than a poet. I have had the ability to make rhyming lines fairly easily, but I like to think that my poetry has more in it than just rhyme. I love imagery–the sights, sounds, smells, feels and movements of natural things, and I try to make my poetry very concrete and real. For some reason, funerals have been a very large part of my poetic efforts, I suppose because poems celebrate a life better than mere speech. At any rate, I have included some poetry here, and I hope you like it. As always, the subject matter is very diverse.

Here is a poem I wrote while Molly, my wife, was teaching calculus. Her students had told her that they did not understand poetry: that the subject matter was so obscure, meaningless, and irrelevant. She replied that poetry could be about anything. They rebutted by saying, “Right! I suppose you could write a poem about mathematics!” Taking the challenge, she said, “Yes, you could write a poem about math.” “Let us see one then,” they countered. Molly came home and told me the story. “Is there some way we can make a poem about math?” she queried. I said, “Well, if you will help me with the terminology, I will try.” Here is what we came up with.

TRIGONOMETRY
By Dan Spier

There is nothing in life so darn hectic
As a brain in a course trigonometric.
I had much rather study invasions
Of Vandals and Huns than equations.
And especially ones like quadratics!
They’re fit only for fools and fanatics!
While my social life sits and relaxes,
My dumb brain is a blur of Y-axes.
Even tangents and points of inflection,
Make me suffer a loss of direction.
While derivatives—both first and second,
Are a little bit more than I reckoned.
When old fractions turn inverse proportions,
My sinuses go through contortions.
My domain is as strange as an ocean,
And my slope and my range? I’ve no notion!
I think radians are tires for one’s auto,
And determinants words for one’s motto.
Logarithms sound right for percussion,
And matrices good for discussion.
But my function’s velocity’s dropping,
And I sense by acceleration stopping.
My vertex’s endpoint—it dangles,
As I’m swallowed in huge right triangles.
All my maximums minimum weakly,
As my anti-log poem ends bleakly,
I guess if one thinks perpendiculous,
Trigonometry’s not so ridiculous.

An ode on the SWD victory over Lakeside
September 29, 1978 Panthersville Stadium

The word was out that fateful day,
The stands they would be packed.
Eight thousand fans or more would see
two vaunted teams they backed.

A stupid boast the Vikings made,
Newspapers heard the quote:
“No problem is the Panther squad”!
The scribes they heard, and wrote.

“Northside Tigers beat the Gold,
With ease they passed and rushed.
So when the Purple takes the field,
The Panthers will be crushed!”

Ranked first in statewide football polls
The Panthers were Week One.
But a loss and tie their record marred
Their perfect season done.

Meanwhile Lakeside found a gem
In White County way up north;
Melvin Dorsey had the skill
To push the Vikings forth.

Full of strength and speed and skill,
This halfback had it all:
He dipped and cruised and crashed the line,
And really moved the ball.

The Panthers were just hanging on
To keep Lakeside off the board.
They couldn’t seem to put a stop
To the Sturdy Purple Horde.

Halftime found the Panthers down;
“13-7” was the score.
Their work and schemes seemed all for naught;
The Vikings would score more.

But the Panthers found a key,
A thing they seemed to lack:
Captain Lindsey’s stirring words:
“Get crazy: Take this game back!”

Just like the country redneck lad
In the song they often heard;
Their backs were up against the wall;
Giving up would be absurd!

Intent the Vikings to upset,
The Panthers took the field
Their cleats they churned; their eyes they burned:
The Vikings had to yield!

Clark put his hat right on their end,
And bowled him on his rear.
And Smith sliced through the gaping hole
To the end zone without fear.

The roar from Panther fans awoke
South County’s silent vale;
The sound did echo out for miles
The Vikings sat there pale.

The Viking horde would not retreat;
To stop them required skill.
They closed and scraped and hit and held
And every gap did fill.

Then much to everyone’s surprise
From deep in his own zone,
Bob Berry faked a criss-crop trap
And dropped back all alone

He fired a missile high and long
Fifty-seven yards it soared
Selesky down the left side flew
And caught the ball and scored!

The Viking cornerback was brave
The Purple lad gave all
But all the effort in the world
Wouldn’t help that boy catch Paul!

The sideline players did erupt;
The stands became unglued;
The Panther pride came surging back
All hopes were now renewed.

One final scare in their own zone
Occurred on fourth and one.
Lakeside tried to tie it up
But lost 13-21!

I’m sure by now you surely know
The moral of this long, long tale:
Don’t underestimate the Panther pride.
You do and you will fail!

By Coach Dan Spier
SWD assistant football coach 1968-1979
Revised 2018