In tennis,
Love means nothing.
Off the court,
It’s everything.
Tennis and love start the same—
Your pulse quickens, hands shake.
Your first high school match,
You lose the opening service game to love.
You would’ve felt less gutted
Had your opponent eviscerated you.
Tennis is a game
Of little lives and quiet deaths,
Each break point converted, electric—
Every winner a shock to the heart.
The points lost to careless mistakes internally bleed you,
Matches lost as a result of a million little cuts.
You could hold a eulogy
For each match lost,
Mourning them from the bleachers,
Hoping your team won’t feel the same loss.
The court slips away,
The way he did—
Your reach, no matter how fierce,
Falls short.
You swing, you miss—
The same way you lost him,
By fractions.
By fleeting moments.
By flaws you thought you could fix.
And when you walk off court,
It’s like leaving him again—
Bruised and breathless,
Haunted by points you’ll never win back.
The first time you fall in love,
He doesn’t stay.
And you carry it with you,
A soft ache beneath the skin,
Like the match you almost won
But couldn’t quite keep
In your hands.
It always seems you've moved on until the pain hits again
How long does it take for a heavy heart to mend
If the pain is routine then by now you should be used to it
Not making the same choices that brought you to the pit
You're thinking this choice is much different watch and see
If I just take a chance then it would be meant to be
Don't drain your emotions until they're numb and raw
To love self before others only seems like a selfish law
Repeating the same mistakes ending in the same result
You're the blame for your pain it's all your fault
You seen it all before don't go through it for a second time
If you're repeating a mistake let this go through your mind
At times this may be hard to do but must be done
It may be easier to do after considering a fight won
When it comes to moving forward the battle is within
You know your destination and where you have been
Doing this will require putting the past behind you
Forgetting about everything you see in your rearview
These steps helps you to get over your pain and hurt
Gradually you will start to see your greater worth
Never allow anyone or anything make you stand still
Push on to better days with bigger goals that are real
Constantly looking behind gives you no rewards
There's always hope in the steps of moving forward
Every mistake we make without malice
with more ignorance than knowledge
the correct result always appears even
by trial and error and the law of chance
if it does not cause irreparable damage
... in the process... !
TO MAKE ERROR IS A HUMAN THING BUT BE CAREFUL !!!
I hadn’t seen her for ages,
But I’d know her anywhere,
With that finely chiseled profile
And that mass of golden hair.
We’d had a rollercoaster romance.
I remembered the thrill of it all,
As I raised my hand in greeting,
Across the crowded hall.
“Sold to the man in the back row,”
I heard the auctioneer say.
“If you’d like to sign the contract,
That’s twelve hundred pounds to pay.”
The girl I’d waved to came across
And I realized my mistake.
She was a perfect stranger.
An expensive error to make.
The day was a calamity
And ruinous at that.
I’d bought some garden furniture.
And I live in a tenth-floor flat.
Wisdom dawned, but late
Life is on the verge
Peeping through the past
Omissions and errors galore
Stare in the face
No second chance
The pride, ego and craze
All leave with no trace
Life passed in futility
Living in illusion of hope
Wasting all in fantasy of gain
If at all, I could get one more chance
But, No!
Life is a one way travel
Everybody makes boobies,
Put our big feet in it,
Just some clumsy footwork
And we find ourselves in a pit.
Everybody makes boobies,
Everybody makes mistakes,
When shooting our life’s film,
There is bound to be out-takes.
For God's sake, we all make mistakes
We all commit inmumerable errors
Nobody is perfect, everybody is under the sticks
Like the old days in the school of horrors
Where students are mistreated or beat with wires
With sticks, belts, whips, rigoises, batons and fires
Because they burn your skin when you get hit
It is a shame that kids got punished out of hate
Love never hurts, love triggers hope and success
Sometimes, we find ourselves in a mega mess.
We all make mistakes. Let's forgive and forget
Let's continue to move and pay the musty debt
To society. Apologies do not heal old internal
Wounds, but they help soothing the past blows
We all make mistakes. We must not be in denial
However, we must fight for better tomorrows
When we have thick skin, the sky is not the limit
There is a bright light and hope after every defeat.
Copyright © February 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Too sensitive will make life hard
Too ignorant will make life meaningless
Our five gifted senses
Do sense life and its essences
Because we're sensitive and we care
Sensitivity will bring us
Truth and justice
Prevention and salvation
Avoidance of errors, dangers and traps
A better life
A better ideology
A better affection and love
Lastly
A better world to live
For the next generation
Whom we love and care
merge these errors into a single block...
dump like rubble on the next cliff...
flee before you hear the dry thud of defects
sprawled on the ground claiming its author.
because self-indulgence saves
even if it's fake
like when you disguise
look around awkwardly
wanting to get rid of contamination
brought by the uncomfortable truths
that knocked on your door
Or at that time remember?
you acted with hypocrisy and prejudice
so you lied to yourself
saying it was nothing
saying you were right
it wasn't really you
you were never that bad.
the pattern of self-pity
obeys a rite of pseudo surprise
acts like camphor ointment
relieves the hidden pain but you know
she's here
smiling like little devil
and makes you submerge in an ocean
where shame is the first virtue
to disappear.
When you see errors
Originated from the others
You’ll feel hurt and harm
When you see errors
Wholly emerged from yourself
You’ll be calm and cool
SpellCeckers, Down!
——————————————————————-
I’m Spellcheckers. I’ll read your mind,
Starting always from two lines behind.
So, you’ll use up all your time
Going back to proofread every line,
Not for your errors, but for mine.
I’m a pure-bred SpellCheckers. Even
Presidents, those haughty men,
Don’t like me, like when
I turn “fiend” from “friend,” or, then
When writing the nation’s budgets,
I’ll change their “land”
to “lend.” Hear Ye! I’m more than
A pouf-wearing proofer, I’m Mother!
“I know you better than you do.”
Gimme a second, I’ll proof it to youse
Look, in the necks Poem, I’ll let loose!
———————————————————————————-
(c) sally young Eslinger 12/31/21
Writing is far from new –
pictures our first penmanship:
on cave-walls, in clay frames,
using colored sand – depictions,
mans' desire to inform; each of
us having his or her own view
of nature – dreams our deeper
landscape. But, nowadays,
we are politically declarative
pronouns – naming no-longer a
rational art; images no-longer a
universal language: All creation
deemed self-determining Its!
Humanity obsessed with correcting
the errors of God.
Man learns from the past
Avoiding errors from the past
Man learns at the present
Skipping errors at the present
Man learns about the future
Preventing errors in the future
Life long learning
Is just a process
Gifted by the past
Possessed by the present
Blessed by the future
Applauded by the world
And thanked by all mankind
Trying to correct the errors of others
Deprives one
Of valuable time, his own to correct!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
18 September 2021
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