Long Winning streak Poems
Long Winning streak Poems. Below are the most popular long Winning streak by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Winning streak poems by poem length and keyword.
When I was young I thought I thought I could Fly,
Off the roof of the garage without a jet pack.
Life experience taught me different.
But even when only four I knew I could not get to the top of the garage,
Without a ladder or a helping hand from someone six foot plus.
Not so for the latest generation of,
Wanna be high flyers,
Who think they can fly to the top of the money tree,
By bypassing the bottom rung of the ladder,
Metaphorically speaking, of course,
As most, have never been up a ladder in reality, in their life.
Anyone pushing seventy or beyond,
Will most likely remember that few got to the top of the money tree,
In their chosen field,
Without serving some sort of apprenticeship,
Which required stepping on to the bottom of a ladder,
Both, metaphorically and physically.
There are few among us who have no sympathy,
Or respect for teachers, if we are not still in school,
And there is no doubting the stress they are under.
But when In NZ the teachers have rejected a pay rise,
That would see a teacher starting on only $1.99 above the,
New Minimum Wage,
I say only, as for most who served apprenticeships had high hopes,
Of one day earning $1.99 an hour.
And most did and much more over time.
Some of us even decided to change on a change of career,
And you guessed it,
Another apprenticeship and back down the ladder we went,
Never for a moment did we think we could fly to the top of the money tree,
Without a jet pack,
Or a winning streak at the races.
Having served an apprenticeship both metaphorically and physically speaking
Having switched from the printing trade to Early childhood teaching,
Having been up and down ladders Metaphorically and physically speaking,
Having been in and out of sight of the top of the money tree,
Metaphorically and physically speaking.
And as I stand here in sight of the top of the tree of life experience,
Metaphorically physically speaking,
I can see the money tree is getting taller by the year,
And most will have lost their hair before they get anywhere near.
So, with all that life experience under my belt,
I feel quite entitled to ask,
Where did we go wrong?
Who failed whom?
And who stole all the ladders?
Both physically and metaphorically speaking, of course.
No-one knows precisely when the rivalry began;
thirty-two the legend goes; eighteen or nineteen?
It's not clear, nor can it be confirmed.
Apart from once in fifty-nine
For reasons lost in time;
The Fresno Fuzzy Socks
And The Chattahoochee Crocs
Have squared off in heated competition
every year.
The rules; written on a napkin
from the Rutabaga New Cafe,
and framed by Fred the Frame
are simple:
Meet once a year on Labor Day
A team of five (ladies now allowed)
Last years winner host, at their expense;
the loser chooses the new challenge,
with no repeats allowed.
Once volleyball, dodgeball, baseball
And almost anything else you can do
with a ball, bat, feet, head, and arms
Had been exhausted;
The challenges became, let's say;
somewhat bizarre.
In the heat of twenty-nineteen
Snowball fighting was, surprisingly
won by home team, Crocs.
The Fuzzy Socks not anticipating
The commandeering of Carluccio's
Ice truck for the event - nothing in the rules!
The following year the 'Socks
won blindfolded pitch and putt
but by default; when Anna May
Knocked out Birdie Blaire - sliced ball!
Sycnchonised swimming in seventy-three
That was a hoot and nearly came to blows.
A new rule was added,
sorry, not mentioned earlier:
No competitions that require a judgment call!
More work for Fred the Frame.
The events were friendly; usually!
Oh, there was the cheating scandal
when Crocs; accused of entering a ringer;
Big Red Jock McTavish
in the toothpick tossing challenge
had to provide ID and quickly.
Thank you, Photoshop and Kinkos.
Worm charming in sixty-three went to the Fuzzy Socks
Who won again in sixty-four; Toe wrestling,
and sixty-five for Cellphone tossing - bad call.
The Crocs finally broke their winning streak,
when Aldon Ardy; who won Cherry pit spitting,
became a local hero and invented
Aldons pitless cherry pies!
Embarrassments for both abound;
the Crocs lost Rolling in the Grits
and Fuzzy Socks the raisin flicking.
Yet still, they meet each and every year
passing the challenge on
to kids and grandkids too
The Fresno Fuzzy Socks
and The Chatahoochie Crocs.
fuzzy socks and crocs Poetry Contest; honorable mention.
Sponsored by: Francine Roberts
Date wrote: 15-June-2021
Another baseball season begins and as teams vie for fortune and for fame…I’m reminded of the time I tried to teach my children….
THE INTRICACIES OF THE GAME
It was years ago when we took our children to the ballpark on a bright and sunny day.
We wore baseball caps, sat in the stands and watched grown men at play.
We’d been sitting for a few innings when I heard my daughter exclaim,
“Daddy, this is boring...what do you like about this game?”
It seemed at their young age my children didn’t share my baseball adoration…and I was sure they weren’t quite ready for a lengthy explanation.
As we basked in the sunshine eating hot dogs with ketchup and mustard on our buns…I could have explained the rules of the game, about strikes and balls and runs.
I could have taken that opportunity surrounded by my children and my wife to explain how baseball, if we let it, can teach us about life.
I could have pointed out, although it is individual player’s name we scream, baseball teaches people to work together as a team.
That baseball teaches humility…for no matter how hard you work, or what path you in life you choose…sometimes you’re going to win...and sometimes you’re going to lose.
That baseball teaches perseverance, determination, tenacity and grit…that you shouldn’t worry when you strike out because you’ll get another chance to hit.
That you must endure the slumps in life and the havoc they may wreak…If you’re also to enjoy the jubilance and the joy of a winning streak.
I wanted to say no matter how many bases you run...no matter where you roam…that life will circle back and you’ll always feel safe at home.
All these thoughts went through my mind as we sat in the park that day…wondering what to tell my children as we watched grown men at play.
“What do I like about baseball,” I said smiling for suddenly I knew “What I like best about baseball...is sharing it with you".
Our children are all grown now and, as far as baseball...that’s a shame…because I never got to explain to them the intricacies of the game.
A FATHER, HIS CHILDREN AND BASEBALL
A father remembers years ago taking his children to the ballpark on a bright and sunny day.
They sat together in the stands and watched grown men at play.
They’d been sitting for a few innings when he heard his daughter exclaim
“Daddy, this is boring...what do you like about this game?”
It seemed at their young age his children didn’t share his baseball adoration
and he wasn’t sure they were ready for a lengthy explanation.
As they basked in the sunshine eating hot dogs with ketchup and mustard on their buns
He could have explained the rules of the game, about strikes and balls and runs.
He could have taken that opportunity surrounded by his children and his wife
to explain how baseball, if they let it, can teach them about life.
He could have pointed out although it is individual player’s names they scream
baseball teaches people to work together as a team.
That baseball teaches humility for no matter how hard you work, or what path you choose
Sometimes you’re going to win...sometimes you’re going to lose.
That baseball teaches perseverance, determination, tenacity and grit
That you shouldn’t worry when you strike out for you’ll get another chance to hit.
That you must endure the slumps in life and the havoc they may wreak
if you’re also to enjoy the jubilance when you’re on a winning streak.
He wanted to say no matter how many bases they run...no matter where they roam
that life will circle back and they’ll always be safe at home.
All these thoughts went through his mind as they sat in the park that day
Wondering what to tell his children as they watched grown men at play.
“What do I like about baseball,” he said smiling for suddenly he knew
“What I like best about baseball”...is sharing it with you.
His children are all grown now and as far as baseball...that’s a shame
because he never got to explain to them the intricacies of the game.
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY
We watched our neighbor, Ollie, play in his first official ’T’ ball game
from our seats atop the bleachers…in the shade.
It was a treat watching the innocent exuberance of children…
before they have a clue as to how the game is played.
With little heads swimming in big helmets they’d approach the ’T’
and when they finally hit the ball…
sometimes they’d run to first, sometimes to third…and sometimes…they forgot to run at all.
And when the ball was rolling towards them in the field
if they’d miss it…no one would get mad.
They know it’s hard to see the ball when you’re playing with your friend,
looking at the clouds, or waving to Mom and Dad.
Atop the bleachers through it all you could hear their friends and family cheering
whether the ball rolled by their children…or if it happened to be caught.
as they walked up to the ’T’…whether they hit the ball…or not.
Their children made a lot of mistakes….but their parents were not concerned….
for they know as their children keep playing…all the things they’re going to learn.
They will learn humility…for no matter how hard they work…on whatever path they choose….
sometime they’re going to win…and sometimes they’re going to lose.
They will learn perseverance, determination, tenacity…and grit….
and not to worry if they strike out…for there will be another chance to hit.
They will learn to endure the slumps in life and the havoc they may wreak…
because those slumps will help them enjoy a little more…when they’re on a winning streak.
But those are lessons for another time…to be learned as their children grow…
today atop the bleachers…their parents just wanted them to know…
that whatever path they choose…wherever they may roam….
as they run around the bases of life…they will always be safe at home.
While I was drinking in the Vic'
Out Goondiwindi way,
This burnt out ringer on his horse
Reined in and said, "G’day!"
We'd all been playing 301,
So asked could he join in.
"Sure thing old mate!" we all agreed,
Which brought a toothless grin.
"The name is Paddy Mellon boys ...
I'll have a pot please love ...
I feel I'm on a winning streak
Or there’s no God above."
He sat there perched upon his stool
Between the pub's doorway,
And held the reins of his old horse,
Which sensed he planned to stay.
The pots went down and time flashed by,
He won near ev'ry game,
But Paddy's knees were bowing fast,
His aim a bit the same.
By late that 'arve the wobbly boot
Had taken full control,
Old Paddy’s winning streak had gone
And Nick had claimed his soul.
Poor Paddy's darts they missed their mark,
The grog had soaked his brains,
But Paddy he just blamed the horse.
"Stop pulling on the reins!" The boys in blue had called in too
And warned him there and then,
"We catching you riding that horse drunk
You'll see a cell ag'en."
Old Paddy broke and out of luck
Resigned to riding off
And as he rode into the night
He gave a smoker's cough.
He'd only gone a block or two
When who should drive on past.
None other than the boys in blue,
Who turned around real fast.
But Paddy though had seen them too
And instinct then took hold.
He jumped behind the saddle quick,
His grin was brazen, bold.
The constable looked up at him,
He'd teach this ringer what.
"We told you not to ride that horse,
You poor old drunken sot!"
But Paddy said, "You've got it wrong,
I am not riding Sir.
You see on this old horse my friend
I'm just a passenger!"
Whenever I’m sitting at the table
my stack of chips is dwindling kind of low
I start to thinking back towards the past
and how life has dealt me an ugly blow
But I just keep on reaching for the cards
though I can’t seem to get a better hand
Still trying to bluff my way through the game
and praying for God to help if he can
I look to heaven and ask "Lord why me?"
why is it that I never win the game
If you'd just let the aces fall my way
then I swear I will never sin again
I promise not to take your name in vain
I'll go to church on Sunday like I should
I'll pray for all those poor down trodden souls
and I’ll only use my winnings for good
I'll stop fightin’ and drinkin’ and cussin’
if you only let me win just this one
I’ll hang up my pistols and settle down
I give my word my wicked ways are done
After winning a few of the small pots
I can feel that there’s a change in my luck
Let’s play one more hand and I’ll shoot the moon
just to see if this winning streak has stuck
After all God will surely understand
for he’s the loving and forgiving kind
‘Sides, as soon as I win that one big stake
I’ll quit and leave this gambling life behind
Now my stack of chips is overflowing
the cards I need are running true my way
No need to worry about my future
or saving any for a rainy day
So I put all my chips on the table
cause lady luck is sitting by my side
Though I know that I will be pushing it
I just can’t help but to let it all ride
Then the hand gets delt and the ace that I
need turned out to be nothing but a ten
When I’m about to toss in my last chip
I’ll look up and pray for God’s help again
A small paradise island,
In the Caribbean Sea,
Rain comes once a year,
Sure does sound like ecstasy.
It’s not in travel brochures,
And there is no airport here,
The population’s seventy,
Not all of them appear!
A cabin on the waterfront,
No need to lock the doors,
A haven for a writer,
Whose life needs a little pause.
The laptop on the worktop,
Shouting out for a new chapter,
No internet to access,
Without finding an adaptor.
The wine bottles are chilling,
To go with the evening meal,
A fish caught just this afternoon,
Does so much now appeal.
No television to tune in,
The Radio not clear,
But nobody is caring,
When they see the lifestyle here.
The preface and three chapters,
To be finished by July,
It’s not on track but soon he’ll be,
Inspired by the sky.
He’s got his tan researching,
While he lay there on the deck,
But sometimes he gets word blind,
It’s a real pain in the neck.
But then he thinks about this life,
That he’s always desired,
He thinks about his characters,
He’s soon again inspired.
No pattern to his writing,
He just scribes when in the mood,
He pauses for a drink or two,
Of course when he needs food.
He said he’d write a masterpiece,
That’s still what he intends,
But for the length it’s taking,
He will have to make amends.
Another chapter finished,
To the publisher conveyed,
No reasons or excuses,
Why again he was waylaid.
Now on the final chapter,
His conclusion due next week,
He’s finishing the epilogue,
Now on his winning streak.
He sends it to the publisher,
Who says he has no equal,
They say “we love you, please ensure
You’re quicker with the sequel”!
Observe and see
Festive cheer warms;
Spirits set free
~~~~~~~~~
Cherry blossoms
Pink carpet pathway;
Waiting patiently
~~~~~~~~~
Here's to you
Sakura moments;
Sparkling sunshine
~~~~~~~~~
Moon overhead
View from my window;
Tender conversations
~~~~~~~~~
Mahjong games
Relatives chit-chat;
My winning streak
~~~~~~~~~
Touch of magic
Spring wind rustles;
Cheery blossoms fall
~~~~~~~~~
Moonlight stroll
Old arch bridge;
Squeaky wood groans
~~~~~~~~~
Two cats sit
Eerie moon glow;
February interlude
~~~~~~~~~
Business sold
Fortune gained;
Hollow feeling
~~~~~~~~~
Here's to good cheer
Another year;
Grey hairs draw near
~~~~~~~~~
Old footpath short cut
Patient feet chiseled;
Old habits die hard
~~~~~~~~~
Memories unfurl
Grass verge updates;
Poignant moments
~~~~~~~~~
Joy greets sorrow
Sad together;
Melancholia sings
~~~~~~~~~
Elysia calls
Going home again;
Sudden departure
~~~~~~~~~
Photo album
Old era relatives;
Sepia burnout
~~~~~~~~~
Study abroad
Down Under Melbourne;
Kangaroo hop-scotch
~~~~~~~~~
Tinge of sadness
Stop to remember;
Fond times quicken
~~~~~~~~~
Airport terminal
Exquisite dine-in;
One for the road
~~~~~~~~~
Listless here
Holiday moods;
Mahjong punctuation
~~~~~~~~~
Toss of lucky food
Yu Sheng expose;
Fortune smiles
~~~~~~~~~
Words catch up
Meaning and motive;
Juxtapose
~~~~~~~~~
Spring season
Oriental red;
Chinatown tinctures
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
22 February 2015
Singapore
I’m on the verge of being left alone because understanding never understood what I was going through. Love never said I care so much; ohhhh let me kiss you because I missed the strength in your eyes. So let’s break it down with a fake smile. Let’s push until we see how far things go without the understanding of us knowing what to do in our situation. How far before things are falling apart & over so the emotional roller coasters ride that ends tragically, Crashed and burn in return of selfish thoughts.
How well were you taught, your insecurities speak loud and your actions UN thought of. What would you call yourself? Really? You know the truth. How much do you need to prove to yourself before you realize how wrong you were?
No need to answer.
I've tried, & tried & tried without a winning streak. I've walked & talk with myself trying to grasp an understanding, demanding a solution to adding things instead of subtracting. Fractions are easy but, this mathematical problem doesn't seem to have a solution. Negative words have polluted the thoughts of everyone in their lifetime. For once let’s not be blinded by leading other blind people into our misguided thoughts of corruption. & if you’re lacking in your understanding I'm saying, be more positive.
Yes everyone is going through things but my things may hurt me more than you thought. So please keep your negative insights on his life, my life & hers. & remember understanding to some are just words.