The Clench-Fist’d Tiger

I wrote a long update featuring Albuqueque, Sedona, Flagstaff and the badlands of New Mexico. But my computer is fucked, and the blog was on it. So instead, I’m posting a poem I wrote some years ago when I aspired to higher things than a crappy travel journal. So, without further ado and with apologies to William Blake…

The Clench-Fist’d Tiger

Tiger, Tiger, burning bright
‘Cept when play’s stopped for bad light
Lithe of frame and eagle eye  
Skilled on grass, both wet and dry  

Determined grimace, clench’ed fist   
Seldom second serves are missed
Base line skills and, better yet –        
Knows when to approach the net  

Armed with racket, fire in heart
Master of the tennis art
Slazenger shirt instead of fur
O British Tiger, Grr! Grr! Grr!