Poetry of The USMNT

It's Friday, and my desire to do anything remotely resembling work is virtually non-exsistent.  So, I'll give you something a little bit lighter this afternoon; hopefully, a welcome change of pace.  (And with these lulls between match days, sometimes I just need to keep myself entertained, so humor me by going along with the product of my boredom.)

With this previous post and the one you are currently reading, I am going to go ahead and declare myself poet laureate of the USMNT until someone unseats me (which I fully expect will bring me lots of fame, glory, and free stuff).  The gauntlet has been thrown down.

Bob Bradley, in Haiku

Emotionless glare

Ugly play, but successful

Sweatpant-clad leader.

Charlie Davies, in Limerick

There once was a man named Chuck Deezy

Whose speed made defenders all wheezy.

He was almost lost in the fall,

 But his recovery has stunned us all

So scoring against England should be easy.

Landon Donovan, in Sonnet
  
Across the sea to Everton he went

To prove himself against the world's elite.

He impressed the Brits in the time he spent,

Who saw what skill he had in both his feet.

With assists and goals, he played confident,

Silencing critics in the winter loan.

Now he's ready for FIFA's big event,

Where he'll make England look like traffic cones.

At midfield or striker, he'll orchestrate,

With America's hopes on his shoulders.

But he should be able to bear the weight,

With his play always stronger and bolder.

The Yanks' fortunes depend on Number 10;

Let's hope he gets us a final again.

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Man, I'm bored...

Keep an eye out for a potential evening post, and enjoy the rest of your Friday, folks.