Poem of the Day: 5/28/09
MEAT GRINDER
from Full Count: The Book of Mets Poetry
I have found
the perfect companion
to watch Mets games with:
-a meat grinder-
At the start of each game
I place the grinder next to my chair
crack a beer, recline and let the fun begin
First I place my fingers
into the chute and dangle them
over the spinning blades
With each passing inning
fingers move deeper into the machine
until I feel the pressure of the blades
against my fingertips
At first, I ignore the pain
it’s just a few lacerations, that’s all
and besides, we’re leading
by a score of “three-zip” in the eighth
but then a pitching change
and it’s Aaron Heilman
I start to get a sick feeling
My fingers become lodged
beyond return, then my forearm
I lean forward in the chair
shaking left to right
hoping to free myself from the
stainless steel beast now dangling
from the side of my body
Heilman walks
leadoff man in four pitches
and I start sinking
deeper into the machine
I push back from the chair
lifting right leg over head
then down against the meat grinder
trying to force loose
but
my foot slips into the chute
then calf, knee and thigh
With one leg left, I furiously
kick at the meat grinder
yet it too becomes lodged and devoured
Now, head and torso
sticking out of the chute;
the other half of me being
pressed out of the grinder plates
-I begin to panic-
Then it happens:
Heilman gives up another walk
a base hit, then a home run
-another blown game-
Down I go,
forced through the bowels
of a meat grinder,
pressed through chute and blades,
and onto the floor
in a glorious, warm and bleeding
pile of fan bits
by Frank Messina
Poem of the Day: 5/22/09
Don the Red Sox Fan
from Full Count: The Book of Mets Poetry
Don lives upstairs
but today he’s in the garden
with Samuel Adams and Khaki Jeans;
eyes pinned to the pages
of a James Burke mystery novel,
He’s worked a long day
and even a Boston transplant
deserves peace and quiet once in a while
but it’s 7 p.m.
and I’m pacing around, checking stats,
injury reports, analyzing every word of the pre-game
wondering what’s up with our pitching staff
and someone please tell me
where is El Duque?
but
there’s Don, feet propped up,
plate of fresh fruit, Rib eye slow-cooking on the grill
and all I can find
is some leftover Chinese food
broken bits of Xanax, maybe a Zoloft of two
fumbling through take-out menus
medical prescriptions and scorecards
getting ready for the game
and then
I look back out the window
at Don in the garden,
wondering how a self-proclaimed, die-hard Sox fan
can be so calm and collected
so I check the schedule
and notice the Sox are playing the Yankees
no wonder he’s not worried
and
four hours later
his team has already won
but my team is tied at three in the twelfth!
storm clouds rolling in, winds kicking up
here comes the tarp
and it’s 12 a.m.
My head is starting to hurt,
nails bitten off their nubs
empty Chinese food containers, prescription bottles
and there’s Don in the garden
full bellied, fast asleep, moon shining upon his face
and just when I’d been tortured enough
a kid in his first major league at-bat
comes up with the go-ahead run at third
and plucks one into centerfield for
the game winning single
and I holler so loud
I wake Don in the garden
who collects his barbecue gear, empty bottles
and clangs his way down the hallway
I open the door and say, “Mets won!”
and there’s Don, ruddy-faced
rubbing eyes, checking a text message
and says, “ah look Sox won too, goodnight Frank”
makes his way up the stairs
while I shut the door, turn out the lights
and lay my weary bones down on the couch
to get some rest
because tomorrow is another day
yes, another day at the opera,
another day on the high anxiety,
Mets roller-coaster ride of suicidal delirium
Frank Messina
Poem of the Day: 5/11/09
The Art of Restraint and Cool Excuses
from Full Count: The Book of Mets Poetry
She was intrigued
or perhaps just drunk
but she mustered enough courage
to ask me out to lunch, a show, music
I appreciated her opinions and admired the way
she carried herself,
so I popped the big question on her:
“Mets-Braves, gorgeous summer night, you know?”
“Not tonight,” she said
“But, you can come upstairs with me,” she said
with a Mona Lisa smile
Part of me wanted to go up there with her
I thought for a moment, then said,
“No, not tonight, I’m headed to the game,
Mets-Braves, gorgeous summer night, you know?”
She gently shook her head, turned,
then disappeared into the apartment building
Later, when I got to the stadium
I studied the empty seat beside me,
placed a napkin in the center, then my beer,
Then I shifted my eyes toward the part of me
that wanted to go upstairs with her
and said, “Not tonight, pal. Not tonight.”
Frank Messina
Full Count in Mets Clubhouse
While the team may have banned tabloids in the Mets clubhouse, this picture clearly shows my book is now top of the pile. Well, at least until the tabloids get piled back on top of it. (((Aw shucks))).
Poem of the Day: 5/7/09
Philly Lou
from Full Count: The Book of Mets Poetry
Lou’s my bartender,
local tavern, personalized mug
beer’s cold, patrons warm
One problem, Lou’s a Philly fan
red hats, red buttons, red P’s
hidden between bottles, wine glasses,
a staged battle of superstition and luck
One day, stopped in,
rearranged Lou’s gadgets,
switched the hats around
and wished his team bad habits
It hasn’t worked…yet
Frank Messina
Poem of the Day 5/5/09
House of Horrors
from Full Count: The Book of Mets Poetry
I went to the House of Horrors
brought battle gear, Mets cap and jersey
expecting torment and ill-will toward my team,
instead, the Braves crowd treated us with
dignity, respect, gracious southern charm,
and better yet, we swept them
with the help of Pedro’s arm
Frank Messina
Major League Baseball Scene’s Eddie “Moe” Resner on Messina
Now……….who steps to the plate but FRANK MESSINA, who specializes in poetry, even when he delivered his speech at Barnes & Noble. His book “Full Count”, is a masterpiece in rhythm. This new writer became a Mets fan even before the team ran out to the field for the first time. He tracks some of his boyhood as a nutty Met, and describes everything dramatically and comically.
Messina
He writes: “I’m a second-class citizen
Trapped in a first-rate city
Son of a Brooklyn-Dodging-Giant,
Laid to rest in the back-alleys of Muttsville.
I’m a Mets fan!”
One of Frank’s best poems was his first, entitled “It was I, Mrs. Wiley”. You laugh and cry as you read it. I’m not going to tell you about Mrs. Wiley or his other bits of masterful work. Just stop what you’re doing and buy the book. Sports Illustrated said, “He’s the Poet Laureate of the Mets.” You thought going to the ball game was all you’ve got to do? Find out, by reading, and add to the magnificence of Baseball.
by Eddie Resner
Mets Fans! You’re Invited to Reading & Book Signing
Greetings fans! You’re invited to the inaugural reading and book signing of Full Count: The Book of Mets Poetry, Thursday, April 9, 2009, at Barnes & Noble College Booksellers, 105 Fifth Avenue (18th Street and Fifth Avenue), Manhattan. 6:00PM. 212-615-5500. SNY-TV will be taping the event for a spot on Mets Weekly.
Thanks!
Official press release: gppbooksigningann.pdf
Can’t make the reading? Buy it at Amazon.com
Full Count: The Book of Mets Poetry
Now In Bookstores Everywhere and at Amazon.com
“No one would question a poet writing about love for a woman, but when you’re a fan of a team, the emotional attachment is even stronger, because women come and go, but your team never changes.”
–Joe Benigno, WFAN
“He’s the Poet Laureate of the Mets”
–Sports Illustrated
“Frank Messina has become a classic.”
–The New York Times
Frank Messina, “The Mets Poet,” has appeared on SNY-TV’s Mets Weekly, the station that broadcasts Mets games, in video montages that feature him reciting his poetry against the visual backdrop of glorious moments in Mets baseball. An internationally recognized poet, he travels worldwide giving poetry readings (not all of his work deals with the Mets) and readily admits that much of his Mets poetry is driven by the passion of being a diehard fan of a team that repeatedly endures dramatic victory and defeat like no other sports team.
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