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Why are so many called yet very few are chosen? Are they pundits on the terrace who know best how to shoot, who put the ball to back of net with mouth instead of boot? Do many tire sore muscle learning skill through weary days, and good-fight life’s long hussle for the right to make those plays? “So come, come play for me.” “I first must fetch another pint. And I’m desperate for a wee.”

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 4/27/2020 1:17:00 AM
Your poem is just amazing. I lost myself while reading your poem. I loved each and every word you wrote.
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Bob Kimmerling
Date: 4/27/2020 6:46:00 AM
Thanks for the encouraging words Ibad. Glad you liked this one.

Book: Shattered Sighs