Jim

Simulcast horse racing is a wicked calling

But Jim is one who claims to be shrewd

He follows race upon race with bankroll falling

While betting horses on the tube

X

Around his home there are no roses rambling

Not a warm greeting at the door

Those sacred chips are gone to gambling

His obligations left for want of one big score.

X

A dark room, a bevy of tracks on the screen

His head is filled lines of tiny type

Folly singing of a horse quite keen

Hard earned scratch gone for hype

X

Glued to the set from gate to wire

Cheap analysis from the highest tout

Caught in the net of a betting quagmire

“But down in Kentuck is the lowest take out!”

X

Good money bet on the 1st race double

Before the sirens’ call of hooves

Steed and mount their trip of trouble

A mirage of hope before bad news

X

Late at night when all the screens have gone to dark

You could call Jim a sad and bitter recluse

In a dream, he catches a 40 to 1 shot on a lark

His pillows of Racing Forms have found their use.

Man o' War's shoes

They came in the Jazz Age to see the noble Man o’ War

During the Depression people cheered their great Seabiscuit

Rock and revolution were at the track to greet Secretariat

Now this twittering age bids farewell to our mare Zenyatta

X

She has stepped into the gate for the very last time

Calm as a mouse yet larger than life

For me, those ears are her secret pride

slightly tilted and off to the side

X

It is all now a haze in the mind’s fluxuations

Coming down to the wire with Blame eye to eye

What a mean little difference not seeing her stomping dance

Led away from the stage of our games of chance

Led away from the stagX

Her losing a race makes little difference to me

She has come back to the shed row healthy and spry

But cruel November has left us quite cold

Now that Zenyatta has stepped from the racing fold

Zenyatta winning the 2009 Breeders' Cup Classic

The Natural and the Theatrical

On this day of winter’s horse racing retreat
brings me to dreams of our two great fillies in a matched heat.
You punters and horse lovers and backers alike
help me to conjure a bit of excitement in this grey light

There she is – The Natural – undefeated in every trip to the gate
The lady Zenyatta takes it slow off the pace
but she knows where the wire spreads out overhead
And when it is late she is passing the also-rans without breaking a sweat

Look at the size of her with hair and ears a flapping
At least 16 hands and everyone of those, and ours, are clapping
The way she runs, she is a hero from Hollywood, but this no film
Her desire to win burns so hot, you’d think she was foaled in a kiln

There dear friends is Rachel Alexandra – the Theatrical beaut.
She makes a race so dramatic, so alluring, right out of the chute.
Like in a dark theatre where she is the only player on the stage
We cannot look away from her as she runs in a rage

She is a star, and like a heavenly body, has the power of attraction
A force of gravity that has yet to reach maturation.
One who has taken on all comers no matter how well–meant
Her true character shines; to the wire first, how wonderfully hell-bent

For these two horses are unmatched on any track
Worthy of a tale of yore and a fabled race so sublime
like a watched clock that has yet to chime
What a bold pair these two would make – The Natural and the Theatrical

Oh the palms do sweat and the hands do quake
Seeing will be believing when they are off  in this great stake
And nary a number will I be punting
Just holding my head on high to see them so stunning

But, oh for the chance to see them fly by!