Long Southpaw Poems
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(otherwise titled psalm to
Amelie Beth by Matthew Scott,
his genuine, gluten free and non GMO
poetic non fake appreciative guise.)
Ah, thee availed me reason to craft
a poem with rhyme or reason,
when I beheld unexpected email
exemplifying Christmas season
triptych most handily drawn pictures
by southpaw sister to think
on the other hand (right),
would be synonymous
with brother commiting treason...
Tempting as such crime
to oust Trump doth appeal
worst scenario... an utter
nightmare should commonweal
constituting United States of America...
blatantly, doggedly, ferociously...
crushing democracy fragile ethereal
frenziedly, maniacally, and unceremoniously
grinding into powder art of the deal
compliments those doughy
two hundred forty three pounds
with squishy feel
bearing full force upon
every square inch of each heal
commanding, forcing, and torturing
every American get down
on knees and kneal
until they simultaneously beg
for mercy with ear splitting squeal.
The ruthless "Fake" tyrant
cackles, gurgles, issues glee
as he doth reveal
his starkly totalitarian, ultimately
vindictive, wickedly surreal
punishment to every man,
woman and child for
not winning 2020 election yule
suffer where high crimes
and misdemeanors during
farcical impeachment trial miniscule
compared to reign of terror
he will violently unleash
rip pull sieve tides
substituting himself as top dog
thus, he forcefully usurps
permanent dictatorial rule...
Other than the above dystopian fear
your brother eagerly
awaits the new year
maybe joining activist group
(maximizing) plank - scare
ring up said apocalyptic near
possibility, cuz Trump equals sore loser
(methinks that an understatement)
nonetheless, what I write might
seem far fetched hear
say (grim heresy),
yet... look no further,
he doth plainly appear
as anti-semitic, bombastic, cataleptic,
demonic, egocentric,
graphic, horrific, misogynistic...
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
~ Discipline Works Wonders ~
His parents tied his left arm behind his chair
So their poor little Gary wouldn't dare
To do such a sinister, such an evil thing
As learn to write with his southpaw wing
At school when he went to the board
His teacher did something untoward
She made Gary put his left arm behind his back
And when he didn't, she'd give him a whack
Well, wouldn't you know it? This worked great!
With his right hand Gary ate, and ate and ate
And in no time gained so much tummy weight
He couldn't even stand up straight...
...Now Gary's fifty-five and a mess
Takes him an hour to get dressed --
"Do I button my shirt with my left hand or right?
~ And which side do I sleep on at night?"
So where do we begin
The din of Indian chagrin
Subcontinent cardinal sin
Forgot how to play spin
Incontinent rot no Ashwin
Saffas got under their skin!
So no Mo Shami or Ishant Sharma
Double whammy now not so jammy
What about Obama calmer karma
Back from Kolpak leader of pack
Is it Heaven or E17 got a stack
Right armer & mockney charmer
Winning grinning skinning spinning attack
Slaying & flaying while playing Simon Says
Avenge those tears from 10 years ago..revenge
Wicket farmer yep cheers Essex’s Mr Harmer
Remember Temba inspired fired the ember
First place won the race for the WTC mace
Dream team scheme everyone a member
And even without their gilded pace ace
No KG Rabada in the Saffa Jaffa Gaffer speed larder
Need 2 metre maneater Marco like Rafa to try harder
Latest greatest tyro narco pyro in the stellar fella Armada
Sneaky hoarder Marco Polo or cheeky marauder Hans Solo
Tip top tourer run scorer tall all thriller no filler..Torquemada
Raw pure southpaw land of the other hand flotilla of Jansen
Saffa’s new slick quick pillar..serial killer like Charles Manson
Let’s end where we did begin..Indian cupboard is rather bare
One savvy Ravi left.. bereft one pace pair with flair through the air
No Ashwin through thick & thin.. slipped on banana skin of spin
Another bish bash bosh whitewash after that Kiwi yippee nirvana
Can still hear the din within of that chagrin at the mandarins sins
Ire..greats retire entire empire on funeral pyre fire - Sinara it's Manana!
THE ARTIST
An artist from the city of Rangoon
Wanted to paint the crater's of the moon
Packed canvas, brush and paint
Told his wife who did faint
Then he took off in a hot air balloon.
THE SCIENTIST
A bright scientist who worked at the zoo
Thought in genetics he'd make a breakthrough
Mixed some bovine
With some feline
And now all the lions at the zoo roar moo.
CLIFF
A young butcher from New York called Cliff
Checked cold storage cos of a strong whiff
He then opened the lock
Forgot to use the chock
The next morning they found him quite stiff.
THE SHERIFF
Then there was the old sheriff of SouthPaw
Went up the hills to arrest an outlaw
It wasn't the sheriff's day
Cos the baddie got away
Shouted" up yours old sheriff and yee haw".
FREDDY
A womaniser called Freddy from Fife
Was caught out by his long suffering wife
Of course he denied
"You liar" she cried
And while he slept took revenge with a knife.
Written 6th July 2019.
Have to admit.. do have a bit
Of a trenchant penchant
Alright adore southpaw purveyors
Dabbles..pique aroused..rabbles in the stands roused
Unique sleek cheek of their chic espoused
Bowlers...reduced to trollopes
Us seduced by players with not
Just a dash of flash panache
But hefty lefty dollops
Innings built by the lilt of lyrical levers which tilt to the hilt
Lush lullaby scores..lapping sandy shores with endless encores
Who’s get the ring or Tiara as
Greatest Caribbean queen ever been seen..
(sorry notions of one of Billy Ocean's top pop potions)
Most blessed and least stressed..every ball caressed and finessed
Also always impeccably dressed…the Calypso
Maestro…lothario…romeo…guru…Brian Charles Lara
First one since the Don to go so much bigger
Score..such vim on a whim…verve and vigour
Doing what only Bradman can but with
More touch..canny elan trigger than rigour
Frightening elite feet..like lightning
Remember in his pomp the 1994 romp
First class farce..501 not out rout..never been out done
Then in 2004.. did it once more..set the new top score
He’s Kane and Abel…top of the table fable for sure
All time prime sublime number one?
From the land of the other hand
Can anyone outgun or out ton?
Travesty to shun..majesty
Artistry of the Lara tapestry
What he brought to the sport
Memories never wane
Prince of the Port of Spain
Whispers spoken…fears awoken…we all say ..there is no way whatsoever that he can play on the 2nd day..his foot’s broken..
But whatever…this is the.. oh so clever if a tad crazy .. nothing will phase me..masterplan from a remarkable cricketer…a remarkable man..
Will have a stab at it…just goes to the fab Rishabh lab and can simply do things no one else can..
Do we toast…flatter our rad madhatter batter…conventions does shatter with his inventions..but did almost beg…good intentions..don’t do it mate ..doesn’t really matter..
Watching this great hobble on one peg while his other leg…at the bottom had an egg…
What if it burst could get worse..but can’t sate his thirst..cricket comes first..
What the hell…what a delicious debacle ..was vicarious…vicious..visceral…after Stokesy’s nefarious spell…
Pant did eventually get gobbled by Archer’s pernicious wizardry of wobbles to a southpaw..
The Rishabh rascal castled.. but will never ever forget what we saw..
His foot cooked…his hand crook…but his special nook already in history booked…should it have been allowed..
But so proud..can’t be overlooked..scanned every fan in the stand…so loud..rising from their seat.....
They all bowed..so grand to see his latest feat..bowlers still briefly panned and canned..
In the perverse ..converse but always frightfully ..delightfully diverse Rishabh land..
Those extra runs shown on the big screen…reminded of that 80’s band Heaven 17..
Introspection…painkiller injection.. such dedication…still didn’t stifle for a wee while..
The all thriller no filler..out of kilter…no filter.. skill and will
Of our..once in a generation..Rishabh rifle sensation…
So contagious…. so tenacious… so outrageous.. so audacious…so courageous..
It made no sense..was absurdly tense…but no pretence…in the otherworldly Panto - verse it was as always… resolutely .. absolutely immense..
.
Frank Edwin was his real name.
This southpaw went on to garner fame.
With great accomplishments and few regrets,
he became the closer for the New York Mets.
This native of Martinez, California
finished his baseball playing career in Philadelphia.
He is indelibly etched in Phillies fans’ memories
when he struck out Willie Wilson in the World Series.
That was in the magical season of 1980.
What a colorful act on the mound he was to see.
Unfortunately, Tug is not around anymore.
He sadly passed away back in 2004.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
WE rush to hospital, to the maternity ward : OUR first GRANDSON.
The SON of MY SON, wrapped up in blue : HE is so CUTE.
Pale blue eyes, a little pug nose, small but certainly HANDSOME.
I lift HIM up, hold HIM in my arm, HE is so small; HE is so CUTE.
I look LOVINGLY at HIS Grammy ; She is small, Therefore cute.
I look into my GRANDSON‘S smiling Eyes , HE is so CUTE.
I put my pinky in HIS hand and feel a squeeze; a SMALL SQUEEZE.
IN HIS other hand : The first squeeze, I found was just a Tease.
YOU have a very strong grip, MY Small, CUTE, Little MAN.
WE have ourselves a Southpaw, a very strong LEFT hand.
The sparkle in MY HeartBeats’ eyes, She lovingly holds HER Grandson.
Amongst the stars in the Arizona SKY, gazing upon His face: wondering WHY?
A NEW born: be they Boy or Girl is always born : SMALL and CUTE.
In 15 years the CUTE is gone: the Small replaced BY tall.
The CUTE replaced by Handsome, GRANDMA STILL Beautiful: BEAUTIFUL!
Dedicated TO " MATT "
Who is the greatest from the land of the other hand…
The pure top draw..southpaw....
Lara or Spice Isle style.. guile and
Wiles of Kumar Sangakarra..
Who wouldn’t hanker in their seats
Various vicarious treats..Sri Lanka’s number one ranker..
Fancy dan talisman.. Tamil Totem of elan..
Run spanker & banker.
His unctuous umami like a sumptuous curry
Even at the end…flurry of runs in a hurry for Surrey…
Hands so soft….held aloft…the head so still…combined with
Unique refined technique echoes the past…remembers
Classical embers of the text and record book cast..
Plays the ball so God damn late…almost tardy…
Trait of a hardy..true first rate great…
Another Sanga banga..all thriller not a scintilla of filler..
Larrups another clanger…elegant and decadent..
Like having a Concorde in your hangar..
Redolent of a sublime almost forgotten time..
His timber timbre.. the sweetest rhyme…
Record heaper…acid jazz pizzazz..flair run reaper..
Smooth..rare groove sweeper..
Well honed treacle toned soul
Top notch keeper..& to be fair
A lovely mop of hair..
One of the gilded golden generation of glittering constellation sensations..
As a lefty…no fibs…his nibs might get first dibs
Superfly guy playing or…sashaying to his own homegrown celestial sky high…
Nuggety nudger & nurdler
Thorpey did embody
Epitomise, personify Test Cricket
Someone small standing tall
Reliant defiant giant but
Fragile and flawed
Did he know he was adored?
Cricket was his safe place
In the 90's nadir
Thorpey gave us solace
Succour..grace & cheer
Resilience & Brilliance
Beacon of light
Shining bright hark back
Dancing in the dark
Having a lark on
That Karachi night
Thorpey had the class
To topple Murali & Vaas
Wasim..king of swing & seam
Said he was best
Test southpaw he ever saw
Thorpey was really that good
Do you think he understood?
With the wood..own
Homegrown Robin Hood
Heroic & stoic raid
Stellar superstars slayed
Who plied their trade
During a golden generation.
Thorpey inspired and fired
Our salvation, resurrection
Regeneration as a cricketing nation
It doesn't get much bloody better than that!
Remember it was still ours!
No chagrin at the paywall
Mandarin sins appall
No red ball for us all.
Surrey & Lions Test legend
Rasping Demons descend
Grasping at the end
Gasping..quite simply
We lost a friend!
Not a toff from
The rank & file
Working class pass
No faff or fuss
Like us, one of us, the best of us
We cooed as he wooed us with the bat
That style to beguile trait..
Gratitude for the plenitude of fortitude
Attitude..gumption at every latitude he imbued
Hat do doff...a true first rate great
Touched, tickled & tinged by genius
Love you Thorpey..rest in power mate