Best Tournaments Poems
Walking my tiger home alone
In the background and unknown
With a rag I polish a club
Then you take it with a snub
I walk around keeping stats
Wet my finger for wind on flats
Calculate yards from here to there
So dimpled ball will stay in the air
As fast as you behind I lag
The difference is I carry your bag
All in white in bright coveralls
Marking the spot to place your balls
On the green is usually where
Sometimes you don't I won't go there
Have no problem choosing the club
Throwing it back an uneasy rub
I go the distance for eighteen
Making sure you make the green
Many tournaments you have won
Some are due to the work I've done
Raise the cup enjoy the win
I can take it on the chin
Beside you like some garden gnome
Here I'm walking my Tiger home
STEPS ASIDE
They’ve banned the “step counters”
Outlawed the treadmill and stationary bike
Banned jogging (aka fast walking for the elderly)
Sports will be limited to “non-aerobic” activities
Tiddlywinks tournaments will be Government funded.
Scientific research and investigation
Funded by the “stay inside and die sooner” chapter
Of the “Governmental Gottcha Groups”
Has conjectural and anecdotal evidence
That the heavy breathing induced by exercise
Increases the carbon dioxide emissions
Of those engaged in anaerobic exercise.
Suggested alternate activities are:
-Daydreaming,
-Scheming (aka conspiring with imaginary friends)
-Meditation…without chanting
-Astral Traveling (with or without passport)
-Thinking, but only about the things presented in our booklet
-(also known as “Talking Points)
Or the “Rip Van Winkle” solution…
Go to sleep for twenty years
and hope it’s all over when you wake up.
John G. Lawless
©2/24/2023
INTO THE LIGHT: SAFE HAVEN, 1944
“And you that shall cross from shore to shore…are more
to me and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.”
Walt Whitman, “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”
Thank God for you, Henry Gibbins, ship of dreams
laden with bedraggled brethren
dark and fair, tall and short, all frail-boned
and gaunt, each and every one a survivor reborn
in the wake of conscience.
Blessed, their leader, Ruth Gruber; praised, her leader,
Franklin D. Roosevelt; and you, Captain Korn
— commanding officer extraordinaire —
your kind face and outstretched arms,
the ship’s crew — their smiling faces, helpful hands;
the stalwart bulk and hallowed halls, sky-crowned decks
surrounded by sea-speckled rail —
far cry from barbed wire.
Joy, the glistening white toilets;
divine, clean fresh air that fills sunken chests, lungs
ashen from the fires of Auschwitz-Birkenau, Bergen-Belsen,
Buchenwald, Dachau, Treblinka…
And you, buoyant sea, revered for strong currents and
changing tides; and you, gulls that glide the breeze,
assuaging wounded spirit.
“Are you America?”
And you, huge dining hall bejeweled with vegetables,
cornucopia of meats, kaleidoscope of sweets
that swell shrunken bellies, smooth withered souls;
the soft pillows and ample blankets nestled in tier after tier
of bunks, the nightmares you help smother,
sweet dreams you set in motion;
talent shows, chess tournaments, movies, musicales.
“Are you America?”
“Yes, you are America — my America!
Land of the free, home of the brave!
GTF
Wizened skin like burnished leather
Thin, grey and long, disheveled hair
Clear, sharp blue eyes that seem to stare
Through sun scorched face, alert, aware
A ‘lived-In’ face that’s so expressive
Tales he tells read like a missive
His arms and hands he flails about
To all he jests, he seems to shout
Belying age with youthful vigour
He starts his day with seeming rigour
But, easy going, he always jokes
With folk at whom, light fun, he pokes
He’s up each morning before the dawn
Striding, planning, never forlorn
Before sunrise you’ll hear with luck
His famous catch-phrase, “Get Tae F***!”
He’s worked on rigs for oh, so long
With everyone he gets along
On the “fine old lady” Stena Clyde
No deference – ALL he does deride
From owner, manager and high paid “suits”
To lowly boys who clean the boots
The tone the same, The grin, the look,
The cheeky laugh, the “Get Tae F***!”
Sub zero frost or tropical heat
His ardour you will find hard to beat
Old habits die hard they say
Not his – he does them anyway!
Does a place exist he’s never been?
That has a port that’s never seen
This tall slim figure filled with pluck
Or heard his raucous, “Get Tae F***!”
They say he’s always been a sailor
From Antarctic wastes upon an ancient whaler
15 years old in the South Atlantic
A hardy life, forget romantic!
Steam driven ships before motor’s advent
He sailed near and far. Came and went.
A story true with each port of call
His audience he holds in thrall
But all through this, both feet aground
Though invitations still abound
To high profile golf tournaments
The best hospitality at these events
He mixes with the best of them
The rich and famous golfing men
Yet on the course when he mis-hits his ball
Not “fore” but G.T.F. to all
And so it seems his time has come
To rest upon his laurels some
He’ll sure be missed – God Speed, Good Luck
It’s been a pleasure Jimmy, “Get Tae F***!”
No dismissive snort from any here
From us, a greeting, a hearty cheer
Received with grace, a smile - a look.
You grin then tell us, “Get Tae F***!”
The Great Race June 6,2015
Dress is unimportant.
At least today.
I can arrive at the local bar and grill
in old gardening jeans and t-shirt.
We'll order a mid-afternoon sandwich.
But the main reason is not to eat
(though their sandwiches are fine),
it's to watch the Belmont Stakes.
We can't call ourselves horse racing fans –
we know almost nothing about horses or racing
and have never bet a dime.
But the excitement around a possible
Triple Crown winner is irresistible.
We're keeping our fingers crossed
that American Pharaoh,
winner of the Preakness and Kentucky Derby,
triumphs.
Why are we not watching the race at home?
No cable TV. We miss a lot of major sporting events
that we once effortlessly watched –
tennis, golf, basketball, baseball, football.
Tournaments which determine the best of the best
used to be available on the internet.
No longer. It's pay to watch now,
and we're too cheap to pay.
So it's off for a beer, snack, and the great horse race ...
And an historic race it was.
Not since 1978 has there been a Triple Crown champion –
a long dry period between winners.
American Pharaoh won handily, running with grace and endurance.
The horse seemed pleased.
The jockey was thrilled.
The trainer was delighted.
And the owners excited.
It's a strange sport though.
The horse did all the work,
while the jockey, trainer and owners
got all the credit.
Those in the know praise the brilliant trainer.
Evidently he is, along with the horse, the best of the best.
Celebrations surely meant champagne all around
and an extra bag of oats for American Pharaoh.
10/4/19
"A Better Person"
Long ago I learned it
Nobody on this Earth is
Perfect
That's for certain
I'm determined
To be a better person
As I continue workin'
Ready to handle any burden
Not yet affirmative
We're still not so sure of it
If elsewhere life stirs and exists
A solar system full of curses and gifts
All these strange occurences
In a world that can be merciless
Below and above all surfaces
People being wasteful and others conservative
Food sold with and without preservatives
The first to quit
Far too often people see no way out, instead of the alternative
Stop doing yourself disservices
And making foolish purchases
Focus on virtousness
Considering that nothing remains in a state of permanence
Do you know who Tyler Durden is?
Are you familiar with Copernicus?
Sometimes disasters could've been averted if
People came together instead of trying to worship myths
Anything against the church, king or queen got discouragement
A sudden current shift
During a storm, waves continued to turn and flip
Nearby a ship was about to swerve and tip
So many serpents
Others being impertinent
And then there's those that want to put you in the dirt quick
Yet another work shift
Involving vertebrates
At times, limbs in dire need of a tourniquet
Planes in mid flight, occasionally hit with turbulence
Violent crimes causing mass hysteria and disturbances
Ever occuring festivals and tournaments
Homes with or without trees and ornaments
The greedy take it all, while others get nothing
Even though they earned a bit
At least a third of it
Some of which is interpretative
All these true stories and even more myths
Shout out to a select few herbalists
And journalists
I haven't yet discovered what my purpose is
But, it's all good, I'm still looking with earnestness
Prosper
Appreciate what this globe has to offer
Goodbye, I'm now six feet under where the surface is
Now you know, if you haven't yet heard of it
By: Dalton Ogletree
Medieval times
A time of splendour
With gallant Knights
Ladies so slender
Jousting tournaments
The ladies all squeal
Exploding of hoofs
The clash of steel
Enter the Black Knight
To a round of jeers
The Red Knight enters
To resounding cheers
First pass no foul
They try it once more
The Knight in Red
Slumps to the floor
They carry him off
And tend to his wounds
A Blue Knight appears
The ladies all swoon
The maidens favourite
Known far and wide
Lord Richard of Leeds
His lance by his side
They ready for battle
Shields are in place
Masks of armour
Covering their face
Towards each other
They gallop full speed
Lances held high
The snorting of steeds
The Black Knight falls
The hero wins out
Blue Knight celebrates
Victory in the joust
Approaching the King
Horse and rider bow
The people go wild
Allegiance they vow
Medieval times
Hail to the King
Jousting tournaments
What glory they bring
© Jack Ellison 2014
Recent tournaments, alas, indeed,
have not gone quite as planned, we must concede.
Now Southgate’s got the tactics that we need,
and we are going to succeed, succeed.
Together let’s unite and all desire,
the English rose to bloom that little higher,
which should ensure the team goes to inspire,
and give the lion’s roar more fire, fire.
?Pre-Chorus
I think that we can win this year’s World Cup.
I hope it’s not a dream where I wake up.
For if we go and get some better luck,
we can make our rivals come unstuck,
and we can be the best team,
we could be the best team
of them all, all, all, all, all..
Chorus
We’re England, England,
Hawking, Pankhurst
and Bobby Moore.
England, England,
Harry Kane is bound to score.
We’re England, England,
Hawking, Pankhurst
and Bobby Moore.
England, England,
Jamie Vardy or
Harry Kane will score.
?
Everyone behave, on, off the pitch,
and make sure that the plans do not all glitch.
Show some pride, but also show respect,
and don’t do anything you will regret.
Pre-Chorus
I think that we can win this year’s World Cup.
I hope it's not a dream where I wake up.
For if we go and get some better luck,
We can make our rivals come unstuck,
and we can be the best team,
we could be the best team of them all, all, all, all, all..
Chorus
We’re England, England,
Daley Thompson
and Bobby Moore.
England, England,
Harry Kane is bound to score.
We’re England, England,
Southgate’s heroes
and Bobby Moore.
England, England,
Jamie Vardy
or Harry Kane will score.
?
Being on the roll bring them a thought of eloquence,
Exempting the fact things in the giant tournaments,
Inside of which lies the origin of originality and dexterity;
Nexus, so true of either being alive or dead
Gentle souls, to be, should stay on the track.
3.
The great golden gates now are opening,
the Dark Man never does look behind,
as he hears footsteps softly approaching,
help does come from his rear.
Looking down to his right side,
the Tigress she is standing there,
sword in hand, golden hair a-flying
around Angel face with stern aspect.
Such a look never seen before
but look seen in tournaments,
the look of thoughtful battle passion,
as real in life, as is in dream.
Now the Dark Man to the ground slips,
standing by a warrior queen,
soft, dark eyes, now filled with passion,
They do look upon a deathly scene.
Algahrs over the field advancing,
Earth is shaking, power and might,
fleet of foot, horror nearer,
forward come the hoards of Death.
Shaking not, Angelic beauty,
standing by the man of dark,
ready for to do their duty,
Fury now burns within the heart.
Yet not alone these two would stand,
not for long two shadows there,
golden gates are opening wide,
comes forth mortal tide to live or die.
Remembering bloody Badicha,
mortals they have come again,
Revenge coming for to find,
Blood fury in all consuming mind.
Now battle formation meets battle formation,
man and beast at deadly odds again,
Sword and spear, resounding thunder,
lightning flashes, fury wakes.
Hopes of life ever long remembered,
the mortals their duty to do,
fighting for the world of dreamers,
Love's own wishes to come true.
Onward into fateful vision,
dark and Angel side by side,
dealing out the light's destruction,
For all, there is no where to hide.
Mortal blows do rend the foe,
forward banners, high and low,
new death upon Badicha's plain,
victory or defeat, the judgement waits.
Turvehr, the black unicorn,
he did kick with feet and toss with horn,
the eyes afire with hate's desire,
remembrances of ancient wrongs.
Destroyer of the Algahr fire
To rend asunder was his work this day,
heart a-fire, hatred to nourish,
to kick and toss, to bloodily slay.
Angry Unicorn did buck awaY,
upon this battleground his victims still,
Anger with such majesty,
the glory of a bloody dawn.
Women, they cried out in fear,
whenever danger came to near,
for love indeed this day was born
for Turvehr, the king Unicorn.
To Be Continued..........
This air blows around me
Reminds me of the good old days
High school days which are past
Gone never to return
Old faces come and go
My head is full of them
Can remember the locked ins and outs
Wish it could repeat itself
Is there anyway to bring it back
Pictures won’t do
Coz it hurts
Times past still hunting
I’m listening to this song
But it keeps on coming
Assemblies we had
Songs we sang together
Social nights and youth activities
Its unbelievable how fast time runs
Real soon we’ll all be gone
It’s hard to comprehend
But it’s a fact everyman has to face
Life will go out
Just as school days go
Wish I could be back again
Talk more with everyone
See the same old faces
But no, it’s not possible
There are faces that will never be seen
This air is pretty cold
Reminds me how cold life is
Days of softball tournaments
Homeruns and first bases
All now behind me
Passed on like a closed chapter
Will I ever be the same?
I keep asking over and over
Soccer team and hatricks
All a playback movie in my memory now
Tears about to fall
It hurts a lot
No more buffness or athletics
All history now
And I keep asking over and over
Is life fair?
Memories are past events
They never repeat
The cold air is too harsh
And the memories are fading
But wait
I will remember who I was
Be proud I was part of a great place
This will be my only consolation in this life
Limericks croises : Once a Rigolo Tennisman
won Wimbledon
Once a Tennisman won Roland Garros
Made a speech drowned in tears of rose
Said : « Of all Tournaments
Love this best – Compliments ! »
Nation enveloped his heart with applause.
Then he won the US tough Masters
Made a speech that sounded like tweezers
Said : « Of all Tournaments
Love this best – Compliments ! »
Nation loved watching twitching whiskers.
Then the Ladies Man won Aussie Open
Made a speech without keeping mouth open
Said : « Of all Tournaments
Love this best – Compliments ! »
Nation kept its Heart all stripped open.
Then Rigolo Tennisman won Wimbledon
Made a speech on Central Court of London
Said : « Of all Tournaments
Love this best – Compliments ! »
Nation rose as ONE : « Git the Hell…Ye Con ! »
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Would you call me stupid?
Would you call me crazy?
All these thoughts I have at the back of my head
Deep down I thought I had found
Peace of mind,
Serenity and companionship
My ride or die,
Probably a relationship
It was just a sinking ship
I think I fell for you.
The long chats? Yes, they fooled me
I'd literally day dream about you
Thought you'd invest in us.
Wait, there was no us??.
So why did I fuss?
If my feelings for you were just a puff and pass?
Someone throw me under a bus.
Confessions, confessions.
Yes I did love you,
Yes I did care,
Yes I thought you were "mine''.
But it's fine,
No more rides
Time to let go of this disguise,
I tried to hide
Our hearts I wanted to bind
But love is blind.
I think of you every single moment,
Your perfect lips?
Like an ornament...
Your hard fists?
Prepared to fight at tournaments
Your eyes?
Made to pierce my heart
Your nose?
Right under it is that soft voice of a serpent.
Right now I wanna bury you alive,
But how will I survive?
You were my Jack,
I was meant to be the Jill
And not her.
We were meant to be the next Romeo and Juliet,
A tight ass strong duet.
My bottle of Moet
My Chardonnay
Give me a chance to confess.
I love you but I can't have you
I can touch you but I can't hold you
I can make you laugh but
I wanna be the owner of your smile
2016 Motor City Open Champion
It has to happened, this day has to come...
When a low ranking player defied the odds as they come..
In a place called the Motor City, showcasing a world squash tournament...
All the the world's best men squash players are gathered in numbers...
Ranked a modest 22 in the world ,there was Ali Farag from Egypt ..
Aged 23, he is a another young squash player from the Land Of The Pyramids..
Last year he was a 88th in world rankings, was knocked out in the 1st round..
Having won 3 PSA tournaments prior to Motor City, now he was a different man...
Ranked 7th in this Motor City Tournament, Ali Farag had a daunting path indeed...
For in the second round, there was the world number one , Mohd El Shorbagy...
Facing a young man stout in heart and full of confidence, Shorbagy was rattled...
The young turk, an upstart by his standards, was of the same high standard..
Shorbagy took the first, a close one it was, only to trailed in the next 2 games...
Shorbagy as world number one, he gave a mighty effort and won the 4th game..
Going into the final 5th game, no quarter was given, none were asked...
Point for point, they fought, probed each other's game as they rallied till the last...
The young Ali Farag, he showed the mettle of a champion to knock out his rival..
A final 12-10 win, and he has created the biggest upset win of this tournament....
Next round was the semifinals, world no.9 Mathieu Castagnet, a Frenchman ...
Ali Farag fought and rallied hard, emerging a 3-1 winner after a long 78 minutes..
When the finals next came along, highly experienced Nick Matthew was The Man...
As world no.3 squash superstar, Nick was just as eager to be a winner,...
Youth versus experience, a young upstart going up against the 35 year old Nick....
It was an engrossing match of top quality squash that lasted all but 50 minutes...
For when the chips were down and curtains about to fell, the youthful Ali Farag..
He presevered and showed his class, bedazzling Nick Matthew 3-1 in 50 minutes..
So it has come to past, the youngest ever champion there in Motor City Open...
Ali Farag from Egypt, he took out 3 top-10 players to emerge 2016 champion!!!!
WOW !!!
It is amazing yet so true about top notched sports stars...
There is always a time when they're the undisputed stars...
They'll be top seeded in all the major tournaments they entered in...
And unsurprisingly and unceasingly they perform to cement their top billing....
At such periods in time, their reign is sublime and they're the ones to beat...
Probably their aura of being top seeds quelled the fight out of many a lower seed..
Only in such periods when time seems to stand still as they reign supreme....
Best exemplified by Datuk Nicol Ann David who was 109months queen supreme ...
Like any other champion, she gets dethroned but she'll soon regain her top ranking...
But as age catches up, her subsequent reign is not going to be smooth sailing...
It's impossible for her to equal ever again that record setting 109months reign....
It took years for her exorable climb up to such a pinnacle of excellence...
For a champion, long hours and back breaking training sessions are unseen ......
And a professional teamwork are in place to ensure such perennial dominance...
But the fact remains, after a period of unceasing dominance....
All champions, whatever their game, will fade into the distant horizon...
Makes you wonder, stars of yesteyears, if age is not in the equation...
Will their mastery, skills and experience match new and upcoming champions?
Take a look at Datuk Lee Chong Wei in badminton, he was once the top honco...
Losing was never an option and his invincibility was an aura lesser players yield pronto...
After an unfortunate enforced lay off from badminton due to suspected drug misuse....
Therein lies several episodes of labourous climb back into the world rankings...
These days yesteryear champions are unceremoniously chucked out of rankings...
Each time an eager young turk charges into the finals and resets the ensuing rankings...