Creatine poetry contest update: It’s not spam or a scam

January 20, 2017

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by Trey Nosrac

The poetry contest for a free breeding to Creatine ends on Monday evening (Jan. 23). Entries are trickling in nicely. Reading the poems is entertaining. People are as different as snowflakes. A few of us are flakey. No doubt a segment of our harness racing choir views such nonsense with rolled eyes.

Not me. If I get a link with a note that says, “Trey, if you still own that trotting mare, I found this contest where you just need to send in an eight-line poem and you can win a valuable breeding,” I am all over that opportunity. Something for nothing is my favorite business plan.

Ricocheting inside my brain is the thought that a Creatine breeding would be a serious upgrade from my current candidates. Since my checking account usually hovers around zero when stud fees come due, a free breeding would be welcome. I like this stallion, but I don’t necessarily have to use him. I could have a chit to trade with somebody else. I could hold it for a year. I could sell it on E-bay. If I win, I have the option of doing several things. What do I have to lose? Entering does not even cost me a stamp and for me, it would be fun.

Alas, others have their reasons for sailing past this nonsense. Some people believe poetry is for sissies. In fact, women have authored the majority of poems received so far. Some people expect a scam, or fear that the contest is rigged. Heaven knows this can happen. We all have innocently stuck our nose into a piece of clickbait and found ourselves barraged with a typhoon of spam. This contest is not rigged. The plan is to have the entries submitted without names on them to a poetry group who does not know a yearling from Yogi Bear, or Muscle Hill from Fabio. The finalists will be sent to Adam Bowden at Diamond Creek.

Some people do not think they can write a poem. This is ridiculous. Poetry is not nuclear physics. Carl Sandburg, a great poet and one of only four human beings who made a living as a poet, described a poem as “an echo, asking a shadow to dance.” What the heck does that mean? Seriously, if you look at some “great poems” they look like a scrabble board. They can rhyme or not rhyme, have two words or two volumes. A poem can roam far afield. Our topic is harness racing and the form is vaguely an acrostic — but both of those leave a lot of wiggle room.

A more likely reason for reticence is that some people are reluctant to make a fool of themselves in public. That’s a shame. Looking foolish in front of a large audience is remarkably enjoyable. Some may not like to lose and view failure to be selected as some kind of scarlet letter. And some consider our sport as serious business. For them, wacky does not fly.

Only a few days remain to board the wacky plane.

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