Best Game Poems
'I want you to use all your powers and your skills
I don’t want his mother to see him like this
Look, look how they massacred my boy'...
Don Corleone (Marlon Brando) in “The Godfather”
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Playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
I drove home by that road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that road where our lives crashed, exploded and shattered
shattered in jagged shards of Silver-Saturn pieces
(This is where you must have seen the swerving headlights
What were your thoughts? Were you worried? Were you alarmed?
This is the spot, oh God this is where, where it all hap...
What were your LAST thoughts? What were your last words
when that pick-up jumped, jumped and flew out of that ditch?
You always said "WHAT THE"...Yeah, you must have said that)
Driving myself to madness playing the 'what if' game
What if you had driven just a little faster?
A little slower? Stopped to pick up something?
DIDN'T stop to pick up something? (Did-didn't-did...)
Stayed at work a minute longer, or left a minute early?
(What-if-what-if what-if-why-where-what-how)
Just what are the odds? Just what are the chances?
2:AM? Maybe one car, one car every 2 hours or so?
If it were a head-on collision, you may have survived
If on the rear side, perhaps only a violent spin
But no, no it had to be on the driver’s side door
It was 'perfect timing, a 'perfect' flash in time
(Perfect-imperfect-perfect-why-where-what-when)
I drove home by that same road many, many times,
that very same short-cut country road that you took
that country road you were driving; innocently driving
just trying to get back home...
Yes, playing the game. It's a game isn't it?
Life is but a game, but a dream isn't it?
ISN'T it.
I'm the bloke she never had,
she's the girl I never knew,
when I met her she was sad,
broken up without a clue.
We've talked of her past
and touched on mine,
in love that didn't last,
insecurities, the whine.
I don't need a partner confronting me,
and she doesn't neither,
I know if I can trust her
I'll never leave her.
I want to get to know her comfortably,
spend my days enjoying her company,
in the bed she'll open her front for me
shaft that'll blast out thus set me free.....
and in those moments all close and moany,
we'll tell each other, "you're the one and only".
I won't keep tags, doubt or act like I own it,
I want a relationship that lives in the moment,
cus she's told me of wrongs in boyfriends before,
I've no reason to doubt her, of that I'm sure,
a relationship shouldn't be there to endure,
work hard to ensure love doesn't turn sore.
She's been hurt, felt horrible and been deflated,
experienced relationships turn love to hatred,
she now asserts with grace honour and respect,
I won't force yet form it and hope I'm select.
She has a raw beauty that made me fond,
a great personality I can't look beyond,
visually controls my family jewels and wand,
but for now, all I want's to form a bond.
She has her shields up to keep men clear,
boundaries that yield, "you can't sleep here",
she's no fear to strike any man too near,
while I think it's cute, she has no idea.
I just want to be best friends and luck buddies,
grow old together until we're dead bodies,
cus this girls got it all, she's not like nobody,
out of this world, I'd be her best buddy,
but for now I'll just pace it, I won't count time,
while patiently waiting for her I'm fine,
cus I'll be that face that never shows hate,
I'm here in my place near my soulmate.
In these very early days, these words I had to lay,
I know she won't read them, thinks poetry's gay,
I don't mind different hobbies, I think it's ok,
if she plays with me nob at the end of the day.
Why do people, want to cause
Other people pain
Where is the Love
That will break the chain
Someone says something
Then it's tit-for-tat
I've played this before
We all know the score
Now who's up at bat
I think it's time, for us to play
The self healing game
Before there's no one, left
Around to blame
One that's more thoughtful
And much less insane
Let's reach for the Sun
And help everyone
Come out of the rain
All we have, is this fleeting chance
To get this right
No time for jealousies
No time to fight
Don't say, that you're sorry
Don't seek to forgive
Just start here today
And throw it away
And learn how to live
She knew this
was going to happen
Mr psychopath is rapping
With his crazy beats in timing
Singing: She's so freaky
You must believe me
I'll spread my message
They better get it
Tearing apart logic
His tempo is lethargic
Smearing the writing
of her time in shining
But those who know her best
Laugh at him in jest
They know her worth
No need for a test
When asked if she's crazy
They evade the question
Thinking to themselves
We are above this business
of railroading the gifted
So take your props and stage
and...perform elsewhere
in the singing of your rage
Friends and trouble go hand in hand.
Legends of the neighborhood.
Like statues and vacant buildings still stand.
A crime in plain view no one ever saw.
Held hostage in fear.
The mouse sturggles to escape from
cats claw.
Blood on the bricks that stains my mind.
Time takes me away.
Yet never leaves the memory far behind.
Summers in the city nights run into days.
We turn are backs to the truth.
But in this game everyone plays.
Heros are villians depending
on who you are.
Stories told bout the other night.
Hidden truths like the bat under the bar.
The players are future tombstones
Men glorified beyond there name.
the citys children caught within her confines.
Forced to play a different game.
When I was a child,
summer at my Aunt Joanne’s
meant staying out as late as it took the sun to set!
And mostly with my cousin Chris,
I threw a baseball back and forth
with exhilaration each time I felt
the impact of Chris having thrown the ball
right smack in the center of my glove.
Chris’ dad, my Uncle Clifford, loved his baseball!
One time I remember
being loaded with the other kids into his old car,
summer wind blowing through my hair,
as he drove us to a game in Davenport.
Uncle Clifford used to play on that same diamond
where he took us to watch that game.
I wasn’t all that keen on it.
But the atmosphere was so lively.
Vendors selling hot dogs, cracker jacks, and candy -
this was my childhood delight!
I am sure I must have cheered
for a team of which I knew absolutely nothing,
mimicking my elders there in the stadium
as wildly they called out their reactions to the game.
In school I played baseball myself,
standing like a statue in the outfield.
It was more exciting to watch my brother Dale from the stand,
those long hot summer afternoons as he played on his league.
It would be at least twenty years later
that I would sit and cheer for a baseball game again -
this time for my son in Little League.
Rooting for a loved one makes the game more alive for me!
Grimacing with every strike my son made;
standing up and going crazy when at last . . .
he knocked it out far into right field!
Glowing with pride that my son’s forte was as catcher
and watching him in all his gear behind home plate.
When I hear the old familiar song Take Me Out To the Ballgame,
it reminds me of the simple pleasures
of my youth,
a time when life was slower paced
and those summer days with my cousins.
America’s pastime, which has trained so many kids
to love being part of a team,
now seems to take a back seat to that rowdy sport called football.
But give ME a game I can follow,
a game that through time I came to love.
My Uncle Clifford has since passed away;
oh to spend one more day with him
at the old ball game!
Feb. 24, 2017 For Phillip Garcia's The National Pasttime Poetry Contest
The mischievous Sandman runs a con game each night
After all the youngsters are safely tucked away
He dances into my room like an elfin sprite
He seizes my hand, tries to lure me outside to play
Then he’s bored on my shoulder at the computer
Threatens to throw pixie dust into sleepy eyes
Quells my muse like a discourteous intruder
I’ve attempted to handle him with a compromise
Just let my muse roam free for a couple of hours
For at this time of night, fantasies flow smoothly
But he feels the need to boast of superpowers
And when I ask for time, he glares gloomily
It’s three in the morning and I should be asleep
This nightly visitor has grown to be a pest
Distaste continues to grow for this pesky creep
And the sandman scowls when I say, “Give it a rest!”
*Entry for Deb’s Fantasy Land Contest
April 29, 2011
A yearning for affection and romance
can cause one’s getting scorched by passions’ flame.
Love blooms if it is given a fair chance,
but some attempt to play the scoundrel’s game!
A tender soul can be bamboozled by
the man who has an inner soul of ice.
The love that he professes is his lie,
and cherishing himself alone - his vice.
The one he lured will struggle to maintain
her doomed relationship with him; she’s torn!
The taste of love once sweet turns into pain,
for what she offers is returned with scorn.
Abominations always will exist.
Take care one's not a scoundrel you have kissed!
For Dictionary fun....#1...Delilah's Words! Poetry Contest
I once bowled a three hundred and one
Someone told me that couldn't be done
I said, "I've done it before...
When I had bowled my high score...
I had bowled a three hundred...and WON"
The Name Game
Understanding human nature can be very complex indeed
Especially when there are people whose names are hard to read
Let me give you some examples to explain what I m talking about
There is no simple rule to follow, no single rule to flout
Perhaps you can take for instance the case of Marylou
Underneath her disarming nature could be a cold and heartless shrew
Or when Mary Jane who’s far from plain is a stunning movie star
And Johnny who never stole any sugar or uttered Yes Papa
One should never plan a vacation based solely on the name of a town
“Accident” a place in Maryland is actually quite safe and sound
Or” End of the Road” is the name of store and does not refer to a street
There you can find everything you need from shoes to books to meat.
Consider why Ideo locator merely means a “you are here” sign
Or Morton’s toe simply means your toes are not arranged in line
Griffonage , unreadable writing , they should simply say hard to spell
Honestly with names like that , one really cannot tell
Have you ever wondered why no rats have ever run a rat race
Or a slip of your tongue seems silly when your tongue is firmly in place
What’s in a name asks Shakespeare, really there’s quite a lot
Would you smell a rose if it were called a Stinky touch me not?
I spied a valley low
Across the road from the cemetery
A Columbus monkey swinging by
The trees of the vale
Stood tall and forlorn
Observing the crematorium
Covered in light gray smoke
As morning traffic streamed on by
Giraffe reached for the tallest bough
And I thought I heard the leopards growl
And by the road was a troop of baboons
As people walked on by
And a few yards away,
Was the army garrison
A regiment trooped on by,
As a sounder was grazing idly by
And people walked on by
Yes I spied a valley low
Where life carried on slow
Across the road from the cemetery
Where footsteps were dull and hollow
A funeral procession was going on
Yes the trees of the vale
Were tall and forlorn
The sun hung high and lorn
As were the clouds of dawn
As I drove along that road
Away from that valley low
Being the shortest in my high school gym class
Attempts to play basketball brought no success
Broke my finger while trying to catch a pass
Leaping to take balls from tall girls? What a mess!
Always loved football, baseball and soccer too
But in basketball I succumbed to defeat
Just couldn’t get into it, that is true
Till Dad took me to see the Miami Heat
Startled he was, watching me jump up and down
Although my enthusiasm was contrived
The cheers of other fans my loud voice did drown
This was the last time I saw my Dad alive
I’m so thankful now that I went to that game
Dad was so grateful for these moments we shared
When I watch basketball now, it’s not the same
It was Dad and not the sport for which I cared
*Entry for Deb’s “Play Ball” contest
Mighty Ducks win the game
Pass the ball perfect the play
There's so much riding on your fame
Men clad in armor win the day
The crowds are grumbling they've all gone wild
The stripes bad call has hardened your trial
Yard by yard your penalties mass
But you'll take the lead with a touchdown pass
86 yards with a kick return
Your rival now should show concern
We love your power your drive your speed
The beer the bets the company
Football Game day
Phones be texting
Tailgate fun scores projecting
Simple fun that's life affecting
It's more than manly testosterone
That compels us to the game
It's teamwork pride the thrill of the fight
How the underdog pushed and overcame
Sports and competition have always been a way of life
Revealing the mighty but also the contrite
Teaching lessons of brotherhood
More victory together than alone we ever could
So when we gather scream and shout
Seemingly insane over a meaningless thing
Remember this on Game Day proud
When from the rest of life we simply check out
Is it really so bad to drink too much
With Oregon's O displayed
Colored faces worshiping the Duck
When they fumble we yell O F_ _ _
Be it victory or cruel defeat
There's more to this than meets the eye
It's about families, lovers and the best of friends
Gathering to play to laugh and to cry
Game Day for the Oregon Duck
Of our team we're so damn proud
As a fan have you made the cut
Or resigned to just miss out
This game of golf as is this life,
Played all life, perfect still can't be,
Ever reminding of one’s wife,
Put on pedestal, upon tee,
Handicaps, roughs, bogies stay rife,
And played as if on edge of knife!
Easy to start, hard to finish,
And harder ever to master,
Followed like an unfulfilled wish,
Always one stroke from disaster,
As in life, handicaps bridge gap,
Eagles two, birdies claim one clap.
What rage be this game every age,
As many highs as there be lows,
A game ever on players grows,
Ageless be this sport in image—
To my liking a bit high brow,
Pricey clubs, carts, caddies in tow.
And if ye think you the ball drive,
Beware of game that drives you naïve,
This game of greens, good to relax,
Greener still goes envied player,
And greatest of a leveller,
Pro or novice likes it like sex.
_____________________________________________
Reflections | 01.10.04 |
I know her shoelaces do not have loops
They may be used as spaghetti in soups
A girl who dreams, are tired of getting hurt
Each kiss and hug felt right, but she kept alert
Her words on paper, dreams of a better place
A frustrating feeling has participated in the game with grace
Accepting does not mean losing hope, the eagle is flying high
Her eyes were always smiling, now she whispers goodbye
24.08.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
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