[lit-ideas] Re: Sunday Poem/dinkers

  • From: David Ritchie <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sat, 11 Nov 2006 23:55:19 -0800

let us not exaggerate
let there be no talk of mastery
but when a person has got good at
the drive, the lob, the drop shot and several kinds of serve
it galls when he is beaten in a game of dink

your dinker imagines that the court actually is one third smaller
the trick for the dinker is to hit, as gently as possible
a small flat target
time after time

so here comes the achievement
racket on it
and it's in
again

not for the dinker the stirring winner
not for the dinker the daring choice of angle
not for him talk of joy in the wind's fresh edge
and how great are our storms

in his view,
he who dares
loses

the essence of dinker behavior
and here French literary theorists chucking up on the romantics might possibly have important things to say
is to keep the yellow sphere within a small space
nor shall he sweat or run

he must move the ball as simply as possible from
our side
to the others' side
sans problem

no doubt there are dinkers in
your workplace
running naked and wild
while no one looks

no doubt Blucher said after Waterloo,
"you know that Napoleon fellow was a chronic over-hitter
and Wellington was deeply in trouble
slamming back volleys
until I appeared
and delivered
my decisive dink."

perhaps further back, Athenians at Marathon made dinker lore
the Persians with their famous top spin
so confident in their strokes
anticipating
believing the flatlands beyond were open
piling on the drives
preparing lobs
but in the final estimation underestimating what it takes to get the ball
back across the net
and the job done

where dinkers are concerned
experience suggests you should wear blinkers
risk all opprobrium
slaughter them
without mercy

first you establish patience superiority
hold back the power
and then
only then
and a little after then
you turn artillery loose
aiming low

when you do make the move
it may be important to try a little cunning
to be that false flag-disguised ship and band
which under Cochrane
often surprised all,
came suddenly up with carronades blazing
through smoke or fog
to jibe and belch death
through gilded windows

i don't know though
i was the one who lost

David Ritchie,
Portland, Oregon

------------------------------------------------------------------
To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off,
digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html

Other related posts:

  • » [lit-ideas] Re: Sunday Poem/dinkers