I got skills

Date: Apr 06. 2007
Time: 11:50
Place: By the banks of the Suir that rolls down by MoonCoin

I hate to disappoint those looking for insightful Master's commentary, but the winds have died, Augusta is back to itself, and I do believe the US will rise again desoite Phil Mickelson's ridiculous showing on the 11th hole.

And how do I know? Because I am a soulful individual and an award winning poet.

Okay, I can't prove the former but I did win a "First Prize" in the Murphy's Stout Limerick contest which wil be attested to by Mark Brown who tends bar Friday nights at "THe Grandstand" on Grand Ave just off Queens Blvd in Elmhurst and Ronan Conlan, proprietor of the Banc Cafe and Antartica,downn around 30th St and 3rd Ave in Manhattam.

Anyhoo, I submitted two and I'm not sure which one won.

It was a very restrictive form of poetry, much more so than Haiku. IT had to start "There once as a man from Cork", it had to mention Murphy's Stout, and eschew profanity.

My two entries. one of which won an award

There once was a man from Cork,
Whose poor pet pig was made pork
He felt down and out
Til he drank Murphy's Stout
And yelled "Somebody bring me a fork"

The second, perhaps too politically hot entry was

There once was a man from Cork,
Off a tryst with the Duchess of York (these were "Fergie" days)
Said "gwan pound the turf,
Stay away from me Murph's,
And good luck you don't hear from the stork"!