Saints? Colts? I don’t care.
Call me obsessed, but tell me…
Will Brett Favre retire?
Drew Brees runs the game,
Throws well, keeps his head, wins, too.
But no commercials…
Never there before,
Saints blink in the shiny lights…
New Orleans goes dark.
What if Colt McCoy
Played for the Colts? Who’d play then -
With grace – for the Saints?
Retired tackle, stirs,
Says, “The Super Bowl, no…yeah…
I don’t remember.”
Last year’s ring glitters
On the pawn shop’s saddest shelf…
Like lots of lost jewels.
We laugh at the ads,
Or giggle, maybe snicker.
Except at Tebow’s.
Colts end Hank Baskett:
When was an end named better
Than this Hank Baskett?
Super Bowl Party…
Where New Year’s resolutions
Go to die. Again.
Bet on the game? No.
The ball’s not round. It can bounce
Any way it likes.
From the blimp, it seems –
This game, this grand tradition –
Gang war with pauses.
Before the kickoff,
Blooms the possibility:
The best game ever.
A horse is a horse,
Of course, of course. But who can
Recognize a Saint?
Like chips and spilled beer,
Injuries come with the game…
Like bets, lost and won.
Not everything stops
For Super Day. Even then,
Squirrels seek winter nuts.
“No gambling.” So says
The commissioner, as pigs
Exit his trousers.
Vegas hums with dreams
Of bad days erased by one
Lucky bet timed well.
How many preachers
In how many quick sermons
Will cry “Super Bowl?”
“Indy? New Orleans?”
Bellow bald network honchos.
“No New York? No Favre?”
All week the loser wept,
Checked e-mail, checked again, wept.
No party for him.
(From listener Carla Klittich)
Super Bowl concludes.
Need new thrills on the big screen…
No! Not ice dancing!
Post-game, cleaning up,
She looks for her husband, but…
He’s under the couch.
Concussed back, sidelined,
Asks coach about the future.
“Snerbiling snackcake?”
Late in 4th quarter
Brady Rule out the window.
Bones go snicker snack
The brutish linemen
Are mere weaklings compared to…
Super Bowl Haiku
Tom Brady’s at home…
Phil Rivers is mowing grass…
Ocho 86’d
Detroit? Glendale? Bah!
Bring Super Bowl to London
Where football is king
Brett Favre dejected.
On his way to Miami,
Was intercepted
Big Easy fans cheer
When the Saints go marching in.
Peyton Manning sneers.
Manning the Colt’s helm
Hurricane Saints drift at sea
Hope for a brisk Brees




Superbowl football
Returns to disturb my life
I still don’t get it.
Super Bowl haiku
Seven syllables in second line
Only five in last.
The Colts and the Saints
Breaking each others’ bones now
Wow what a good game!
Love the Super Bowl
Where else can one see boffo
Bud Lite commercials?
Go-Daddy girl strips
And a beaver fiddles
Must be Super Bowl!
That Payton Manning
Just got sacked in his backfield.
WHO’S YOUR DADDY NOW?
When things go badly
I need a post-season pick
But I’m stuck with me.
Once a real tight end
But the years have passed and now
A really fat ass.
“The Who” is playing
At the Super Bowl halftime.
“Who is the Who?”
I would take chances
But it’s late in my lifetime
And my last time-out.
The Who are aged
Wheezing as they make music.
God, I’m really old.
When I am that old
When I sing, “who, who are you?”
I am most sincere.
Football or rugby?
Fumble resembles a scrum
And does it matter?
Football and dating:
Getting “close” doesn’t count though
Still stimulating!
God tricks me again
Changes play at scrimmage line.
Curses, foiled again!
Super Bowl near end
And the Saints are marching in.
LET ME WIN THE POT!
Two minute warning!
Why do I dislike those words?
They sound so final!
The Saints win the game
Even though the odds were bad.
Don’t bet against saints!