Dear Mr. Torres,
As I'm sure you know, the celebrated American poet and all round good guy Alfred Joyce (Val) Kilmer famously wrote the following lines:
"I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree"
I think you'll agree that in the normal course of events and to normal minds like ours, this bizarre statement by Mr. Kilmer raises two immediate questions:
1. Firstly, why is he writing poems then? Surely he could serve humanity better by being a forester.
2. Secondly, what's the sample on which he's basing his hypothesis? There are some very ugly trees that look positively horrid when set against the graceful iambic pentameters of some of the Bard's work or the playful alliteration of a Manley Hopkins piece.
Anyway, for my part, I now have a third question and it's this that I think should be of interest to you Mr. Torres:
3. Has Val ever read any of the many poems written about Liverpool striker Fernando Torres?
I think we both know that the answer, from a logical perspective, is a firm "NO WAY Gene, that Kilmer chap died yonks ago!" and you'd be right because the question, for the most part, is rhetorical (or as you say in Spain retórico pregunta! ai caramba senior Gene!)
"But wait Gene", I hear you cry "what do you mean 'poems written about Liverpool striker Fernando Torres'?"
Ha ha ha!
Yes, I didn't think that would escape your attention. Indeed, let me assure you Mr. Torres that after reading this letter and the creations held within that the words of Mr. Kilmer will taste like ashes in your mouth and you may well find yourself having mixed feelings about that weeping willow in Rafa's garden.
Anyway, without further ado, let me explain. For some weeks earlier this summer I was held captive by an entity known only as 'The Abacus'. He kept me in a darkened room and stole my identity. His personality, although quite different from mine, was rich in texture and had a heady quality that left me bewildered at times. However, there was one thing we had in common, and that was an appreciation of the arts. In my case it is opera but for The Abacus, it was poetry.
And so during my incarceration, The Abacus set about organizing an online poetry competition to celebrate you signing for Liverpool FC. Sadly for him, but luckily for me, I was able to overpower him and escape before the competition ended - but I decided to continue with it nonetheless, and so here I am sharing with you the best of the bunch.
And what a bunch!
Second Runner Up (harvesting an impressive 3 votes from our panel of judges) is Mr. Har-Harwood. Although his warden only lets him post when the moon is waning, Mr. Har-Harwood is a firmly established SCM favorite. Other interests include bestiality, necrophilia and necro-bestiality.
Here’s his third placed entry:
The foghorn blows loud,
it's time to set sail
across the mersey
to your new found home
you'll play in red
score lots of goals
hit the net
make us roar
youre fer - fer - fer- nando
not like the other nando
that cucumber we had before
we'll beat the mancs
and stuff the blues
defenestration
time for celebration
as the reds walk on
to victory
we'll never lose
First Runner Up (packing a punch with a whopping 5 votes) is Mr. Herr Onceared.
This full-time sixcrazyminutes poster loves long walks on the beach and taking photographs of clouds. His second-placed entry is cunning in its use of words and apostrophes.
Here it is:
I archiv'd in small, clear bags,
the webb'd feet o' the Mallard
The gander of the Goose and bill o' platypus
I stripp'd fern and ocelot o' its juicy flesh,
and labelled them 'meat'
I found in the snow a marmo-set,
and in the fog, horn toed frogs.
I fed the third and first world......
we ate tripe in thailand,
whelks in ôslo
and in machu picu, cumberl'd sausage.
Finally sated, engorg'd
I hurled me and Frank from the window.
His swoll'n testes caught on the battlements
and came clean off on the ramparts.
Defense-stration i jok'd.
How we laughed Frank and I.
The Winner (screaming through the central defense of everyone else’s poems and lashing the ball into the proverbial net of literary victory with an astonishing 7 votes) is Mr. ILD (formerly known as Ireland Lad David).
Although he likes to pass himself off as a racehorse, David is a 30-year old Kilkenny milliner who spends his free time crunching numbers as the assistant treasurer or the Irish branch of the Judy Garland Fan Club and posting on sixcrazyminutes.com
Here’s his winning entry
Ode to Fernando
Let the Kop rejoice, a new star is born,
Foghorn Fergie must be feeling rather forlorn,
Sven was then a fan he even seemed keener,
But luckily “El Nino†chose pastures far greener,
Green is now the colour of the envious ones,
As green as a cucumber ripened by the hottest suns,
We can only improve; things can only get better,
Kuyt and Torres can and will unleash hell together
Now, lets exclaim our love for Rick Parry our CEO,
Who went to Madrid to seduce Fernando
What tactic did he use? Perhaps defenestration
Way more effective than his usual procrastination.
He’ll wear number nine, as did Fowler before,
He’ll awake the masses if they daydream or snore,
Liverpool has awoken with a massive roar,
Our record signing can make us leap and soar.
Well, that’s about it from me Mr. Torres. All the entries in our poetry competition can be read at the following link
http://sixcrazyminutes.com/forums/index.php?topic=13233.0;all
All that remains for me now is to welcome you to Liverpool and let you know the prizes for the successful contestants; I hope you can [size=10pt]do your part[/size] by providing them for ILD, Herr Onceared and Mr. Har-Harwood:
2nd Runner Up: Six packets of Monster Munch (pickled onion flavor)
1st Runner Up: One box freezer (white colour, 1 cubic meter capacity)
Winner: Dinner for two with Fernando Torres at a Nando’s restaurant of his choice.
Your loyal friend,
Gene
As I'm sure you know, the celebrated American poet and all round good guy Alfred Joyce (Val) Kilmer famously wrote the following lines:
"I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree"
I think you'll agree that in the normal course of events and to normal minds like ours, this bizarre statement by Mr. Kilmer raises two immediate questions:
1. Firstly, why is he writing poems then? Surely he could serve humanity better by being a forester.
2. Secondly, what's the sample on which he's basing his hypothesis? There are some very ugly trees that look positively horrid when set against the graceful iambic pentameters of some of the Bard's work or the playful alliteration of a Manley Hopkins piece.
Anyway, for my part, I now have a third question and it's this that I think should be of interest to you Mr. Torres:
3. Has Val ever read any of the many poems written about Liverpool striker Fernando Torres?
I think we both know that the answer, from a logical perspective, is a firm "NO WAY Gene, that Kilmer chap died yonks ago!" and you'd be right because the question, for the most part, is rhetorical (or as you say in Spain retórico pregunta! ai caramba senior Gene!)
"But wait Gene", I hear you cry "what do you mean 'poems written about Liverpool striker Fernando Torres'?"
Ha ha ha!
Yes, I didn't think that would escape your attention. Indeed, let me assure you Mr. Torres that after reading this letter and the creations held within that the words of Mr. Kilmer will taste like ashes in your mouth and you may well find yourself having mixed feelings about that weeping willow in Rafa's garden.
Anyway, without further ado, let me explain. For some weeks earlier this summer I was held captive by an entity known only as 'The Abacus'. He kept me in a darkened room and stole my identity. His personality, although quite different from mine, was rich in texture and had a heady quality that left me bewildered at times. However, there was one thing we had in common, and that was an appreciation of the arts. In my case it is opera but for The Abacus, it was poetry.
And so during my incarceration, The Abacus set about organizing an online poetry competition to celebrate you signing for Liverpool FC. Sadly for him, but luckily for me, I was able to overpower him and escape before the competition ended - but I decided to continue with it nonetheless, and so here I am sharing with you the best of the bunch.
And what a bunch!
Second Runner Up (harvesting an impressive 3 votes from our panel of judges) is Mr. Har-Harwood. Although his warden only lets him post when the moon is waning, Mr. Har-Harwood is a firmly established SCM favorite. Other interests include bestiality, necrophilia and necro-bestiality.
Here’s his third placed entry:
The foghorn blows loud,
it's time to set sail
across the mersey
to your new found home
you'll play in red
score lots of goals
hit the net
make us roar
youre fer - fer - fer- nando
not like the other nando
that cucumber we had before
we'll beat the mancs
and stuff the blues
defenestration
time for celebration
as the reds walk on
to victory
we'll never lose
First Runner Up (packing a punch with a whopping 5 votes) is Mr. Herr Onceared.
This full-time sixcrazyminutes poster loves long walks on the beach and taking photographs of clouds. His second-placed entry is cunning in its use of words and apostrophes.
Here it is:
I archiv'd in small, clear bags,
the webb'd feet o' the Mallard
The gander of the Goose and bill o' platypus
I stripp'd fern and ocelot o' its juicy flesh,
and labelled them 'meat'
I found in the snow a marmo-set,
and in the fog, horn toed frogs.
I fed the third and first world......
we ate tripe in thailand,
whelks in ôslo
and in machu picu, cumberl'd sausage.
Finally sated, engorg'd
I hurled me and Frank from the window.
His swoll'n testes caught on the battlements
and came clean off on the ramparts.
Defense-stration i jok'd.
How we laughed Frank and I.
The Winner (screaming through the central defense of everyone else’s poems and lashing the ball into the proverbial net of literary victory with an astonishing 7 votes) is Mr. ILD (formerly known as Ireland Lad David).
Although he likes to pass himself off as a racehorse, David is a 30-year old Kilkenny milliner who spends his free time crunching numbers as the assistant treasurer or the Irish branch of the Judy Garland Fan Club and posting on sixcrazyminutes.com
Here’s his winning entry
Ode to Fernando
Let the Kop rejoice, a new star is born,
Foghorn Fergie must be feeling rather forlorn,
Sven was then a fan he even seemed keener,
But luckily “El Nino†chose pastures far greener,
Green is now the colour of the envious ones,
As green as a cucumber ripened by the hottest suns,
We can only improve; things can only get better,
Kuyt and Torres can and will unleash hell together
Now, lets exclaim our love for Rick Parry our CEO,
Who went to Madrid to seduce Fernando
What tactic did he use? Perhaps defenestration
Way more effective than his usual procrastination.
He’ll wear number nine, as did Fowler before,
He’ll awake the masses if they daydream or snore,
Liverpool has awoken with a massive roar,
Our record signing can make us leap and soar.
Well, that’s about it from me Mr. Torres. All the entries in our poetry competition can be read at the following link
http://sixcrazyminutes.com/forums/index.php?topic=13233.0;all
All that remains for me now is to welcome you to Liverpool and let you know the prizes for the successful contestants; I hope you can [size=10pt]do your part[/size] by providing them for ILD, Herr Onceared and Mr. Har-Harwood:
2nd Runner Up: Six packets of Monster Munch (pickled onion flavor)
1st Runner Up: One box freezer (white colour, 1 cubic meter capacity)
Winner: Dinner for two with Fernando Torres at a Nando’s restaurant of his choice.
Your loyal friend,
Gene
