Long Billiards Poems
Long Billiards Poems. Below are the most popular long Billiards by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Billiards poems by poem length and keyword.
I have ADD.
Having... what I have's like playing billiards*!
I aim my thoughts
like a cue ball at a stripe**
and hit a solid** color...
It wipes me out! I forfeit my next shot!
My Critic-of-all-dreams does the thinking, then!
And THEN, it seems my friends all make their shots,
And I am left to rack up.
As they feel sorry for me, I am given the break shot,
first shot in the new game!
'Oo!' I think, 'a thought for every ball!' and it doesn't end well!
I fire off the shot, and nearly crack the lot,
And the cue ball leaps up and over the mess of billiard balls,
and OFF the TABLE!
My one friend is bald,
and as I pick the cue ball up, I imagine how much
His head looks like the cue ball, and it sets me laughing.
Unknown, my crime of thought is,
And he graciously grants me... another shot!
It is then, that I put on too much chalk, and send the white ball spinning
With a blue mark on one side going round and round
...and... this is how my thoughts go, sometimes!
A good thing, I am not playing for money!
________
*in this case, I am employing the American usage of 'Billiards', which includes 'Pocket Billiards', along with several other Cue Sports
**'Stripes and Solids' is a game in which one player tries to knock only the Striped Balls, while the other player tries to knock only the Solid-Colored Balls into any of the pockets. To hit, with the white cue ball, a ball of the other player's designation ('Striped' or 'Solid') is to forfeit one's next shot. A successful 'pocketing' of one's designated ball, adds a point, and allows the player to continue shooting, until he either misses, or strikes or 'pockets' another player's ball.
The gaze he casts in my direction
Washes over me like a poisonous infection
Casting devious stares in my reflection
With his subtle rejection
My gaze bouncing across the billiard tables
Wondering if what I know about him are fables
Hiking my skirt, I grab my cue & aim
At pocketing this solid blue
One more time I switch my gaze to his location
I no longer found him in the billiard situation
He's nowhere to be found all around this room
He left tonight too soon
Billiards - I'd follow him on every full moon
Every time I open my mind - hoping he'll see -
Unfortunately, just gazing partners we'd ever be
At the billiard hall on full moons - across from me
I sighed & turned back my table's way
Then shot - & missed pocketing that solid blue
Shrugging my shoulders I said aloud:
"My fleeting inspiration is you."
I drank my last sip of Rum & Coke
Wiggled on my hoodie & got my purse ready to go
When off in the corner, I heard a voice say:
"I can't help but thinking I've seen you here before."
I spun around & in a dark-cornered chair
I saw man's silouette in darkness sitting over there
I knew he was the man I've been gazing to
"I-I'm Holly," stammering the words in his direction
& when I walked over there, it was just a reflection
Pool's Prince Charming
by Michael R. Burch
this is my tribute to the legendary pool shark "Saint Louie" Louie Roberts
Louie, Louie, Prince of Pool,
making all the ladies drool ...
Take the “nuts”? I'd be a fool!
Louie, Louie, Prince of Pool.
Louie, Louie, pretty as Elvis,
owner of (ahem) a similar pelvis ...
Compared to you, the books will shelve us.
Louie, Louie, pretty as Elvis.
Louie, Louie, fearless gambler,
ladies' man and constant rambler,
but such a sweet, loquacious ambler!
Louie, Louie, fearless gambler.
Louie, Louie, angelic, chthonic,
pool's charming hero, but tragic, Byronic,
winning the Open drinking gin and tonic?
Louie, Louie, angelic, chthonic.
NOTE: If you like my tribute you are welcome to share it, but please credit me as the author, which you can do by copying the title and subheading. I used poetic license about what Louie Roberts was or wasn't drinking at the 1981 U. S. Open Nine-Ball Championship. Was Louie drinking hard liquor as he came charging back through the losers' bracket to win the whole shebang? Or was he just pretending to drink for gamesmanship or some other reason? I honestly don't know. As for the word “chthonic,” it’s pronounced “thonic” and means “subterranean” or “of the underworld.” And the pool world at its worst can be very dark indeed, as Louie’s tragic demise suggests. But everyone who knew Louie seemed to like him, if not love him dearly, and many sharks have spoken of Louie in glowing terms, as a bringer of light to that underworld.
A pro bowler is not thought of as a precision performer
Laying a 16-pound ball in the exact same spot
Over and over again, as many as 300 times a day
Morning, afternoon and evening for weeks on end
Nor is he deemed a disciplined practitioner of his trade
His temperament even, with a mindset honed to forever
Look forward to the next frame, to the next challenge
No matter that the spare he just failed to pick up cost him dearly
His has not the cunning of a geometry-savvy billiards player
Who knows all the angles on every lane, the dips and
The curves, and even the effect of the temperature and
The barometric pressure on the way his ball will roll
He is not feted as a brave warrior, who subjects his rolling elbow
To incredible amounts of torque over the course of a career
Which can easily span three or more decades of battling tenpins...
No, he is just the man-child next door living out his youthful dreams
Day 1
I sit to write in peaceful solitude,
while words of tranquil elegance exude
visions of nature's beauty and soft light,
but it's not my muse which has taken flight.
A bastard housefly sails a curvy path,
as irritation grows to rage and wrath.
Essentially, the reason is because
this little jerk emits a galling buzz.
When I think the skumbag's finally stopped,
and I could hear it if a pin were dropped,
the excrement eating insect starts again,
an insidious attack upon my brain.
You would not think a creature who is this small
could find a way to bother me at all,
and yet he drives me completely daft and nuts,
until upon my window, I see his guts.
Day 2
Awaking from a frightful fever dream,
I hear a buzz, and choke down a helpless scream.
The window guts, a subconscious, wishful scene,
before I slept, I missed with the magazine.
One slight move, he's no longer stationary.
Have I misjudged this pint-size adversary?
His flight is like 3-D billiards in the halls,
bouncing off unseen, invisible walls.
Why has this beast chosen me to torment,
to lead me in my sanity's descent
to Hell, a place I would gladly send him
if my worthless Westways could only rend him.
Yet, I said, "fly to the screen door, for once,
and we'll both be free, you insectoid dunce".
A desperate jack o'lantern, I am hollow.
Everywhere I go, he seems to follow.
Perhaps, the little guy has something to say,
tracing the 3-D model of DNA.
Does he buzz the hundred thirty-seventh psalm?
Could it be that last week, I killed his mom?
Day 3
Hopefully, I think the fly's diminished,
and that soon this monster will be finished.
He seems to be flying slowly like he's drunk.
His decibel measure significantly shrunk.
He's fast and young, but he's aging faster,
giving me the better odds to plaster
him. Who will be victorious in the end?
On whose nerves are made of steel, it will depend.
Day 4
Dead on the floor, two haggard creatures lay.
In one's hand, "you're just like a summer's day".
Home town
Yesterday I saw him play billiards, a famous man
There are not many celebrities in my hometown
We have not many things to be proud safe for
A duck pond in the center, geese and rats in
The basement of the café
The famous one was once a boxer in the USA
But never made it to the top, but came back
In my hometown, his fame was assured; he had
Floored Sonny Liston in the third round, but
Liston won the match
A friendly man who hides his sadness, of not
Being famous in America
In the years to come, he will be pointed out
“See the man over there, a lovely mover, once
He floored Sonny Liston.”
What’s your view?
Is there a hue?
That for you
Will on cue
Always imbue
Your soul renew
The one colour
Couldn’t poo poo
Makes others duller
Wouldn’t eschew
Pure & true
We’ve all known
Tone is prone
To stir such emotion
Some say sky or sea
Others disown
The big blue notion
Shrouds of clouds
Lure of azure ocean
For me a dosage
Of grown foliage
Honed my devotion
The most verdant sheen
I have ever seen
That magic potion
Tincture of Greens!
A cricket pitch
Without a hitch
Can bewitch
Bowling green
Billiards baize
Rays ablaze
Can amaze
Who doesn’t fawn
Over dew at dawn
On a lovely lawn
Passion pops
Preens the tops
Fashions any copse
Captivating thrills
Spills across
Undulating hills
Don't need a permit
To be a hermit
Rest In a forest
The colour of kermit
A tinge to binge
Can’t cringe..shan’t impinge
Only if flames singe
Would cause a twinge
Fresh from Mother Nature’s syringe
There’s no other shade
She’s sprayed
Life conveyed
Jade dappled glade
Strife allayed
Laborious glorious fringe rife
So dutifully…beautifully made
Not a skinflint hint
Or skint glint
Stints of prints
Of green tints
Like cooling Mint
Or the sublime lime
Of summertime fooling
Could be the emerald
Only Spring can herald
Or go full throttle
Embracing the green of racing
Or the mottle of bottle
Let sage take centre stage
Held captive by olive
Maybe Pea or Sea glee
Say what you see
Always classy
Brassy let’s call it grassy
Which is why
It’s a bonsai dye
I’m a verdant merchant
With a trenchant penchant
For this natural screen
Finessing..caressing & dressing wood
Glean a lovely keen sheen
Whether trees or Pease pud
That could have only ever been GREEN!
They called him "The Nerd" where he went to school
He read books and wrote poems; he wasn't too cool
Built radios and robots; never played billiards or pool
Loved ballet and opera --- What a dumb fool!
Whenever he drove, he followed the rules
Never exceeded the speed limit, the stubborn mule
No interest in girls; thought them petty and cruel
And the clothing he wore --- very 'old school'
Now the Nerd's all grown up: He's ultra-cool
A nuclear physicist, he's invented a fuel
To speed us to stars that gleam like bright jewels
While those who once mocked him jealously drool
Fickle sunbeams tickle fluttering daydreams...…
Lyrical lapping lullaby encores...
Gingerly stroke sandy shell shattered shores..
Starlings spy…sky high murmurations...
Skimming stones....slicing silky sheens..
Voluptuously verdant riddles…islands within idylls...
Scattered daffy darlings..dilly dally...
Sunshine splattered chlorophyll candles...
Animosity as an ersatz monstrosity shines…
Saluting highfalutin pomposity..devouring skylines..
Notes of cut grass gloats floats from..
Middle class mowed manicured marvels..
Criss cross collaborations… surf the tailored turf....
Billiards baize ablaze with petrichor whiffs
Festooned with afternoon nana nap snores..
The radio's heavenly hum of cricket scores...
A duvet of familiar riffs...murmurs of what if's..
An inkling..whispers of summer's sprinkling serendipity twinkling..
When Reggie was in the army
He lost a leg
His fellow soldiers
Renamed him Peg
He was extremely brave
Soon forgot the pain
Although without this limb
He would never be the same again
Jake was a friend
Peg met in the local pub
To have a game of billiards
And a bite of grub
One day when they were talking
Jake mentioned Reggies leg
He asked if Peg could kick a ball
So that they could visit the park instead
Peg agreed so off they went
To play out in the sun
Jake had an advantage over Peg
He had two strong legs
Peg only one
They started to kick the ball
Boy this was fun
Reggie's wooden leg was heavy
It made it difficult to run
But run he did and kicked the ball
It flew up in the air
Jake ran to kick it back
That's when the pair
Collided and fell
Peg landed on top of Jake
What a sight to see
Reggie's peg pierced Jake's ankle
Also twisted his knee
The two men lay on the ground
Suffering great pain
Silently both thinking
We won't play that again
Shakily they got up
Jake feeling a little wimpy
Reggie smiled ruefully
And changed Jake's name to Gimpy