I do enjoy verbal tennis
wordplay may be a game
outwit outsmart the opponent
is the only aim
lobbing phrases across the net
volley and rally back and forth
no one's a loser and yet
those precious few
who think on their feet
will always win have you beat
Shakespeare is the all-time champ
merely a player with poem and sonnet
through thick and thin he'd go for a spin
and put some English on it
it's fun for all with no balls or calls
and if your serve is up to scratch
unless words fail
at the thought you quail
it's word game set and match
~ As the Dreidels Spin ~
Game, set and match
Here comes a fresh batch
of potato latkes, as the dreidels spin
Up comes a gimmel -- You win
Maccabees mean Victory
so many menorahs to see
Let's dance the hora and sing a song
It's Chanukah time ~ we all get along
‘Love All’- the chair umpire announces
She whispers, ‘Love one’
He whispers back, ‘Love two’
And the game begins
Playing field, uneven
Two middle-aged, thus engaged
In more than just a game
Mind you, no ‘Exhibition Match’ this
They know the world loves ‘exhibitions’
He sends the first serve- ‘stinging’
She manages to volley back
He seems to be at an ‘advantage’
But he cannot ‘win’ her
And she cannot ‘lose’ him
Empty stands
Different worlds
The ‘Big Umpire’ on His perch
Wonders, “Where’s the game heading?”
A draw?
No, none in this game
There’s no draw in tennis
It soon becomes-
‘Game’, ‘Set’ and ‘Match Point’
Suddenly the two different worlds
Come crashing down
Game over.
OBSERVE AND OUTSMART
The circle looks expectantly
Chairs shuffle their feet
One speaks reluctantly
No eyes meet
I observe
My eyes shift and tic in unison
Chair swerves
Unvoluntarily rests upon
Someone's tense nerves
I tic and stutter
Source of endless laughter
My hands flutter
But I only leave after
Their awed voices
See what I wrote...
Their antics, their patois
Observed by me, I gloat
The smallest detail I catch
Their every shenanigan
Game, set and match
My pencil speaks
Because it can.
***
December 31, 2016
Those voices in your head saying that you won't win this war
But knowing by who you're led you know that ain't the score
Feeling a bit bruised and beaten maybe even a little defeated
In those mistakes you're repeating leaving you a bit depleted
Maybe you feel that you have hit your limit but it's not over yet
Maybe you feel like wanting to quit, remember it's not over yet
Even in the thinking that you are finished you keep up the fight
His Glory can never be diminished, the only thing in your sight
Maybe you thought that the past was the game, set and match
But the Lord would never cast but instead He would try to catch
Long live the young at heart and blessed be those who are meek
Pitch in and do your part as would do the One that you so seek
Remember it's not over yet, keep running until the race is done
Keeping your eyes firmly set upon the Father and His only Son
Now out of that dark and into His Light with Hope still on the rise
For when the Lord is in your sight there's no need to believe lies
Based on the song, "It's not over yet" by For King and Country.
Great Song!!!
To tennis
What a cracking sport
To play, to lose all worldly cares.
Returning
To the tennis court –
That small rectangle, out of time;
Win or lose
It doesn’t matter,
I’ll keep my focus on the game,
Satisfy
My ruthless nature
With tuneful thwack of gut on rubber.
One set all,
It’s forty-thirty:
A sizzling ace secures the game.
Up above
In beech tree grandstand,
A crowd of rooks croak their applause.
With topspin,
Drop-shot, forehand smash,
Exhausting rally,……. gasp for breath,
All too soon,
Game, set and match, then
It’s back to work, my lunchtime spent.
I have become like him; nocturnal.
Prematurely anaesthetised by exhaustion
then jerked awake into the darkness.
How long since I have slept 'til dawn?
A stifled yawn veiling scurrying thoughts.
Tennis match of emotions; back and forth;
volleying, lobbing this way and that.
The game, set and match of insomnia.
Then rallying forth as dawn brings clarity.
Despairing disparity sleeping finally.
The silence of the night amplifies my heartbeat.
Each breath echoes in the unsettled gloom.
As the dawn casts its ghostly light around the room
sleepless wakefulness wanes with the retiring moon,
and the owl rests, fatigued by his 'whooing'.
Unlike me he can sleep by day, the night is his time,
not mine; I am the intruder in the darkness;
a restless insomniac with an overactive brain.
Sleep well majestic wise one. No doubt,
when night falls, I will share your company again.