Hearts come and go
Under the sun’s long shadow
Thoughts and feelings beat
Where waves and wind meet
Seagulls shriek and crabs compete
A looping tender, tragic skit
Watched from a swaying seat
Where waves and wind meet
Footballs roll and laughter spills
Boards drift, then cut the sea
Sand stings hands and restless feet
Where waves and wind meet
Promises fade, and truth retreats
Beneath a painted sky
Soft echoes hum beyond sunset
Where waves and wind meet
Howdy from Lubbock!
Dust Capital of the world!
Guns up! Footballs on.
A hillside of walkers gathering slow
blend with the gold medal fields all aglow.
Kites finding freedom, flutter and flow
as looping Red Kites begin to swoop low.
Families with picnics bask in the sun
whilst ice-cream smeared children playfully run.
Dogs chasing frisbees bark at the fun
as strolling events are just about done.
Rooks search for scraps on the Downs chalky chest.
Footballs pace quicker as if on a quest.
Hypnotic gliders hover like rest,
drifting away, along with my stress.
Serenity cycles. Smiles are on tour.
The wonder of nature is what we’re there for.
The café embraces a coach trip or more.
Benches remember all those gone before.
I view all the tissue-like clouds move along
whilst hearing the skylark sing beautiful song.
The smell of contentment is fragrant and strong.
Our Dunstable Downs is where I belong.
In ancient cities and times,
kings, rulers and their often-faceless consorts,
were exalted in marble statuary,
yet
so much of those effigies
now remain headless.
Those bygone exalted figures
have lost their heads,
(or occasionally the odd arm).
I ask myself,
where did all their heads go?
Were they deemed to be sculptured flowers,
doomed to be dead headed like roses,
by stone-faced gardeners?
The beheaded, the headless,
litter history,
it makes me want to check my own neck,
to confirm my often weak-headed state.
Heads are easy targets,
you strike a light in the dark
then some petty tyrant takes offence
and poof,
there goes your head.
Genghis Khan played polo
with human heads.
If we were born
with a dotted line around our necks
we might put two and two together,
we might be better prepared,
for being booted around
like footballs.
If I had been clearly told
to always keep my head up my ass,
I might not have had this death wish,
to write weird poetry.
In those days we bought gloves with grip pads
to go with our Nerf footballs
Because our hands were not yet large enough
to pantomime dads that stood too close to the TV
and ran from commercial breaks
We spent hours perfecting lean-tos
playing dodgeball in sweat-filled basements
discussing the perfect capture the flag strategy
and skipping ahead to the battle scenes in action movies
We barely had enough breath to eat
I have done nothing of the sort in years
Now my eyes wither under the glow of computer screen
and my lungs never even catch from the thrill
of bare feet on grass cradling
underdog victory in the last second of the game
The doorbell chimed
She answered
It’s a pregnant woman
She never read the no cold callers sign then, he thought
Are you going to see what she wants
Footballs on, a man should never be disturbed when the footballs on
Was it eight months ago
Just a bit of fun
Why the hell don't women take precautions
This was not going to be pleasant
Hi John, you’re probably wondering who I am
You spoke to my husband about a month ago
He says you’re great at assembling flat packed furniture
As you can see, I’m getting to the critical stage
Yeah, right, I remember
Listen, don't you worry, I’ll pop round tomorrow
Have that nursery built in no time
Thanks, John, that will be great
By the way, if it’s a boy
John was one of the names we were thinking about.
Hooray!
Wet grassy feet fill my soccer cleats.
Hot sweaty teens run fast track meets.
She skis down sugary mountain tops.
He begs his coach to play shortstop.
Footballs, field goals, fumbles.
Touchdowns, tackles, tumbles.
My mother keeps warm with hot brown drinks,
as I learn to skate on chilly rinks.
A sadly splintered hockey stick, from a two-quick hat trick.
A winning catch is cradled in a well-loved mitt.
Tiger wins with a hole in one.
Miniature golf is much more fun.
Double dribble the whistle blows.
Excitement on the court grows!
Busy balls dunked in their hoops.
"Hooray" the three cheers for the ALLEY -OOP!
Hard balls, soft balls
Hiding on the loft balls
Red balls, white balls
Feeling feather light balls
Big balls, small balls
Hitting on the wall balls
Golf balls, tennis balls
Plastic table tennis balls
Baseballs, cricket balls
Bowling out the wicket balls
Basketballs, footballs
Throwing those shot-put balls
Dull balls, shining balls
Exercise reclining balls
Rubber balls, hockey balls
Snooker balls, sticky balls
Volley balls, beach balls
Jumping out of reach balls
Handballs, throwballs,
Playing with the snowballs
Rugby balls, yo-yo balls
In the darkness glow balls
Sweet balls, meat balls
Getting ready to eat balls
Glass balls, round balls
Find them all around balls
08.04.2021
For Natasha L Scragg's "The Marmite Poem" contest
We love football meat pies kangaroos and Holden cars
We’d sing it at home in the playground and in bars
The good old days when everything was Australian made
But that ended then and now the song did fade
So here we are a place whose population
Is looking for work in mining tourism and submarine production
We look like we did in 1941
No industry no future and looking around for one.
© Paul Warren Poetry
When I was a boy in west Texas I kept a treasure box much the way building corner stones are done - with an eye to the future anticipating a grand opening one day.That day came this year when I officially admitted that I was an old man.With no particular ritual I opened the rather large tin box to find:
A mummified horney toad
One stick of Juicy Fruit gum
Baseball card collection - three cards
One Coca Cola bottle cap
One window sticker from Grand Canyon
Four arrowheads labeled "Comanche"
Ten rattles from Diamondback snakes
One garter - source unknown
A roll of caps but no cap pistol
Two chipped marbles
One top with no string
One yo-yo
A baseball labeled 1946
One needle for pumping up footballs
A spy's ring with hidden compartment
One compass the size of a quarter
Three Indian head pennies
One picture of Marilyn Monroe with clothes
One picture of Marilyn Monroe without clothes
A picture labeled on the back,"My Mama"
Notably absent was a cell phone
7-24-19
Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List
Dear Heart
how long
is a foot locker
and what
do they keep in it?
foot lockers
foot solders
foot long hotdogs
footballs
what is the obsession
are they politically correct
or are they just a foot fetishes
at the foot of my bed
Have you ever heard of that famous Tom Brady?
His deflated balls can’t even chase off the ladies.
But he’s a legend that football has seemly created,
so I named my puppy Brady...but his balls not deflated.
Celebrity or Famous Person Clerihew Poetry Contest
Tania Kitchin
March 26, 2019
The footballs on the tele.
The stars ain't in the sky.
They are kicking bags of wind about
Faking injury's all the time.
The wages make your eyes water
The antics make you cry.
Oh the footballs on the tele.
And I'm drinking beer and wine.
The pizza in the oven
The crisps are in bowl
The wifes been sent to her mothers
The kids to scouts and guides.
Now if only England could win a game
The world cup would be complete
but I'm not holding my breath.
As we have a bunch of overpaid fairies who wear 3 lions on their chest
It seems like I fell off the map on my life journey,
my path has been twisted and quite ferny;
and beauty is concealed . . .
I have learned to dip and dive in life's battlefield,
but this warrior of fate could use a shield;
and perhaps an attorney !
Fate just keeps throwing me off mountains I climb,
I end up in dangerous places most of the time;
I could use a fate guide . . .
So that over oceans and quicksand I could glide,
and face- fate's devious footballs with pride;
life is often lemons and lime !
Wonder, would I find contentment on easy street,
no, I like this journey, music and beat;
I like catching the football . . .
Standing strong and tall when I hit a stonewall,
so, I will play the game and there is a windfall;
I could be an athlete !
_________________________
March 9, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/Simple Mutterings/Fate
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1002-488-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
THE RISE OF FEMINISM
Feminism once constricted within four walls,
turning women into mere puppet dolls.
Tossed around like footballs.
Those “mighty men” standing all tall,
rejoice watching a women's downfall
Today's women hang around in malls,
sharing their happiness and sorrow with pals.
Soon came a show time for women to shine,
those chauvinists viewed it as a crime.
Women opened their small stalls,
strengthening their future with a firewall,
protecting themselves from a man's maul.
While their lives were at stake,
they realized their mistake.
Being subjected to a man's judgment,
attained their path to achievement,
which was not a piece of cake.
Women took great leaps and bounds,
stopping men from bossing around.
Men and women found common grounds.
Both striving hard to earn a pound.
Inaugurating their enterprise with a ribbon,
empowered strong independent women.
Their success stories retelling their hardship.
Battles fought aside a man's dictatorship,
cherishing this era …,
THE WORLD OF WOMEN WORSHIP!!
Sub Categories
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