Long Footballs Poems
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Lisa, a fellow freshman who lives in our neighbor suite, is a breathtaking beauty from New York - the kind of beauty that toppled ancient Greek empires - a sun-like beacon to the male sex. Anna (one of my four suitemates) gasped and said, “The gods walk among us.” The first time we saw her at orientation.
If Lisa lays in one of the hammocks in the quad to study - in minutes there’ll be 10 guys doing athletic male things like throwing footballs and foot juggling fobs - anything olympian and roughly physical to show off and draw her interest.
Late one afternoon, Anna and I were studying and watching such a scene from a second floor patio garden. Sunny, (another of my suitemates) just returning from class, took in the scene. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
“Are you smelling roses?” Anna observed.
“Better than roses,” Sunny said. Looking down at the preening guys. “They’re gorgeous,” she sighed, “Why can’t I have just ONE?”
“They’re already entranced.” Anna said, peering over her sunglasses.
“Awwww!” Sunny purred, “Look at the pretty one in the orange shorts.”
“Too late, I said, “she’s already culled him out from the herd.”
It was true, Lisa was slowly leading him away from the pack, spellbound.
“She’ll probably eat him.” I said.
“How does she DO that?” Anna asked admiringly.
“I don’t think she even tries - it’s probably pheromonal.” Sunny said ruefully.
Our envy isn’t raw enough to curdle into dislike - we agree that she doesn’t seem to TRY to be the center of attention - we just wonder where she finds the time for it all.
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.
I quickly joined the Navy on June the 4th, 1943,
As soon as I graduated at 17, life was definitely to be;
I received boot training in the state of Maryland,
At Bainbridge, became a navigator noble and grand.
I was sent to Amphibious Training wet, phew wee,
At Little Creek in Virginia, where I got my crew,
Of different ranks including machinists as gunners,
The craft was 56-foot, our rations made us stunners.
But I was separated from my crew, went to Plymouth,
In England, placed on a Liberty ship used to house,
Replacement cargo for artillery that got destroyed,
Which was so much longer than the crafts deployed.
In Fahnouth England, I memorised Normandy maps,
Prepared and used a Reflectoscope to turn on the taps;
We were scared of poison gas when we hit Omaha,
I was quarantined on June 1st of ’44, needed mama.
We saved many from the crafts using cargo nets sublime,
But they were difficult to climb in the rough seas, crime,
A craft almost mounted the ship ‘cos of a high wave,
And always we had to be steely and very, very brave.
The bombs from the Nazi’s were the size of footballs,
And we painstakingly recovered many bodies, stalls,
From the water which had just beaten them cruelly,
And that first D-Day morning we were losing brutally.
The Germans hedgehogs, or bombs for the landing crafts,
Fired on us from a pillbox, but in my case American staff,
Took my attacking pillbox out, and I was just so grateful,
‘Cos it was causing me havoc ‘cos I almost felt too awful.
Luckily that night two German planes simply just avoided us,
After a few days we did hydrographic 3D printing work, suss,
For which I was commended, I contributed to today’s 3D printing
Then I lead the invasion of southern France, which was amazing.
The Panama Canal saw me on a rocket ship headed for Japan,
But the A-Bomb ended the war, and we went state-side to tan,
My Honourable Discharge was in March of ’46, and I was quick,
To get back to my peacetime activities, but never forgot the sick.
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.
REALLY
I ------JGL-------------- do solemnly swear
to tell you of all that I see and I hear,
invite you inside that dark space in my mind
allow you ten minutes to see what you find.
The errors of learning, childhood mistakes,
the stumbles, the falls, the failed “buckboard brakes”.
The cold teaching penguins, the hollowed out priests
the making of bread with - and without – yeast.
Fumbling of footballs and endless first dates
running for freedom through open church gates,
searching for meaning in life – or in death
discovering reasons – rekindling breath.
Disrobing a man - standing naked – and free
discarding the concepts that kept me – from me,
confronting the demons, denying the brutes
by feeding the bastards their own lying truths.
Standing atop bold towers of steel
alive in a breeze that makes everything real,
holding a love that awakened my passions
cradled inside a life that she fashioned.
Holding small hands, jellied and sweet
dancing with them perched atop my big feet,
Frisbee and soccer played in cold rains,
drying their tears in failure and gains.
Losing a step, no – the grandkids are quicker
or maybe my gut is a little bit thicker,
holding one hand as one left for battle
remembering both when they held baby rattle.
Embracing a soldier, a mother, my baby
filled with the questions of “if, when, and maybe”
Watching a brother and sister rejoice
at announcement that soon there will be a new voice
to carry the heart, the soul, and the wit
of a name, and a family, and what goes with it.
John G. Lawless
9/3/2014
For Skat A Keep It Real poetry contest
Christmas is creeping in.
I’ve seen my first quality street tin.
The John Lewis advert is out
And the motorised reindeers about.
Shop windows glitter and glow,
Ladbrookes give odds on the snow,
The eyes of the new generation
Are fixed on the latest PlayStation
Mariah Carey is on every show
That pumps out from the radio.
Signs on the roundabouts point
To the nearest Christmas tree joint.
Loft ladders are let down once more
To retrieve the decs from their store
Dads swear in temper and stress
“How could the lights get in this mess ? “
Will there be any turkeys left
Or will the table look bereft ?
Must dig out the walnut cracker
And get my nails booked for a lacquer .
Christmas films on every channel
Full of righteous, festive, flannel
In which life’s drama and life’s dread
Is all made right with gingerbread.
Cinnamon taints everything
Oh Hark - the herald angels sing
But there’s little Christmas love or grace
When you cannot find a parking space.
Supermarkets fill their shelves
With stollen cakes and chocolate elves,
And blokes buy beer to stow away
That’s mostly drunk by Christmas Day.
While some begin to deck the halls
And others feast on cheese footballs
Some just sit and contemplate
How did we all get in this state ?
The days just disappear
As the Yuletide feast gets near.
The shopping list keeps growing
And there’s endless to and froing
Time to pour that glass of Sherry
Time to consult Mary Berry
To make the perfect Christmas pud
The way that only Mary could.
The pogues ring out on Christmas Eve
Shoppers bustle, wind and weave
Through busy crowds they dodge and shift
To find that perfect Christmas gift.
Carollers by the corn exchange
Suddenly come into range
Familiar carols tug the heart
With words that speak of a new start
Will Noddy Holder save the day ?
Will we escape this Yule affray ?
But don’t give up, if all else fails
You’ve got the January sales.
© Mike Miller
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
In March winds we spring ahead one hour
Flowering trees play in April showers
With a rainbow of colors, May flowers bloom
Summer comes in, school's out in June
Vacations and picnics start in July
While millions of fireworks light up the sky
A hot August breath gives life to the pools
Watermelons so sweet they make you drool
September's Autumn has footballs flying
Halloween's in October and all the leaves are dying
In the month of November, there's a lot going on
Thanksgiving, Black Friday, deer hunting at dawn
We shop the whole month of December it seems
With snow, St. Nick and winter's New Years Eve
January resolutions and frosty window panes
Everything glistens in icy February rains
Daffodils signal winter is ending
Again weather changes spring is ascending
With the cycle of seasons one thing is clear
We all have our favorite time of the year
by Daniel Turner
A Blustery Autumn Day
Mischievous bursts of autumn’s laughter
Pulls down the last of the season’s bright artistry
Carried away on blustery gusts,
Weaving a tapestry of autumn’s magic
In tiny whirlwinds of yellow, orange and umber –
Floating like capricious ghosts into hazy skies
Waiting for the rains -
Then chasing jubilees of color into dry puddles of drifting leaves,
Like flying cartwheels,
Scattering,
Then gathering in again,
And just for fun
Lifting fringes of woolen mufflers, warding off the chill,
Taking aim at woolen hats with rowdy gusts
Delighting in their tumbling down broad sidewalks,
Crowded with bright leaves,
In pirouettes,
Spinning kaleidoscopes in shades of whimsy,
Careening down the lanes or bustling avenues,
Catching breath again to huff and puff,
Blowing in erratic tempest tarantellas,
And giggle
Watching footballs taking errant paths,
Tickling summered tree limbs exposed,
No cover for their naked branches,
With passing gales of glee,
Resounding with the call of cornucopia’s horn
To gather in the Indian corn, pumpkins and ripe wheat
Before the coming days of icy storms
Blow hard with unrelenting icy currents
In winter squalls returning.
I've got footballs.I've got basketballs.I've got baseballs.
And now, they're showing my balls on ESPN.
But the smallest balls I've ever seen?
Were golf balls.
Ping Pong balls were even smaller.
Would you like to join me, for a game of table tennis?
Because! I've got balls..
I've got red balls.I've got white balls.I've got blue balls.
And now, they're playing The Star Spangled Banner.
But the biggest balls I've ever seen?
Were elephant balls.
How many balls does it take to reach the moon?
One! But it's got to be a big one.
One big ball..
I'm going down to the ball room right now, and have a ball.
Would you like to join me?
We'll have a real good time.
Because! I've got balls..
Humorous Poetry By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2002,2014..
ALL rights reserved..
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