Yeti As Muse
Every once in a while, we get awesome beer-inspired emails from our splendid fans. Here’s a super cool poem from our pal David Ganz in South Bend, IN.
Ballade of the Yeti
A lonely cloud I choose to stroll, or roam
Along the chartered streets around South Bend
To find a bar where I may find a home,
A stool, a glass, a table or a friend.
My tastes still splendid, so my way I’ll wend
Still lonely, clouded: further than the jetty
St Joseph’s lake beyond, and at its end
A glimpse of Mark, the bar, and, lo, the Yeti.
The Fates decide what we may make or mend
Circling the glories of the Golden Dome.
Far better verses better bards have penned
Far better hairs to split (or raise, or comb.)
Until you hold the glass, the head of foam.
Your belly filled with pasta or spaghetti.
Bologna, Puttanesca. Even Rome
Can cook no sauce appropriate to the Yeti.
Across Alaska, Anchorage to Nome
Eschewing Palin, once the rising trend
I seek electric bodies, volt and ohm
Spark waves and currents which I cannot blend
I pause and wait for Nature to extend
A park of the MidWest, a Seringhetti
Where lions crunch each pious reverend
And what those lions leave falls to the Yeti.
Princess, when on your bard your eyes you bend.
As he completes his twenty seventh tome
Pour him his beer, make of him a legend
To raise his glass to leprechaun, or gnome
The gladiators and the hippodrome
The chariots, all covered in confetti,
The moonlight glitters of the fender’s chrome
I’ll no more poem, Princess, make mine a Yeti.
D.G. dd XXVIII. I MMXII