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.
The winner wins but having won moves on
for winning is the proudest thing he’s done.
But winning only once could never be
enough to make his place in history.
The winner wins but having won moves on
for his winning streak had only just begun.
The winner wins and then he wins again
that others lost helps elevate his fame.
He wins at Chess and Snakes and Ladders too
there isn’t any game he can’t beat you.
The winner wins but having won moves on
for his winning streak had only just begun.
The winner wins and having won moves on
as winning became ‘Father, Ghost and Son’.
He now finds winning feeds his mortal greed
and winning is the only food he’ll ever need
The winner wins but having won moves on
for his winning streak had only just begun.
The winner wins but having won moves on
and races to the place where life is won.
He’s met by judges two between the gates
but enters in the first, he cannot wait.
The winner wins but having won moves on
for his winning streak had only just begun.
The winner won but having won moves on
where hotter stakes for winning could be won.
The fires of hell now burn with winning pride
for the Devil has a winner by his side!
Ivor G Davies
After rounding up some cattle
I headed to the saloon
To have a drink or two
And hear a bawdy tune
Cowpokes were gambling
And guzzling up their beer
The women were upstairs
Their bosoms amply filled
Waiting to give us all a thrill
After a couple shots of whiskey
A poker game I did seek
Hoping I'd soon be on a winning streak
My luck was going good and
The cowpokes I was beating
Until big Jim accused me of cheating
A fight broke out and turned into a brawl
Big Jim got hit, and took a mighty fall
When it was all over I was still standing tall....
The cattle would be rounded up tomorrow once again
And I would be right there, ridin' on the plains
1-26-2021
Cowboy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
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
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.
Once upon my life story...
Once upon a time I was an infant of only 5.5 pounds
Used to cry and make crazy sounds
Once upon a time I was a toddler obnoxious and hyper
I would play all day in my dirty diaper
Once upon a time I was an angry, spiteful kid
Almost everyday I got wrote up and sent to the office for the things I did
Once upon a time I was a ugly duckling
Picked on by girls because of how I looked, everyday I was sulking
Once upon a time I was a weakling
Unsociable I was and mean
Once upon a time I was neglected
The outcast with no place, I was rejected
Once upon a time I reached the age of thirteen
I decided to awaken a potential unseen
Once upon a time I was shunned because of my flaws
Now I am the exact opposite of who I was
Upon this time I am no longer a ugly duckling
Those same girls tried to flirt with me, (funny) in the inside I'm chuckling
Upon this time I am no longer weak
After years of training in martial arts I mastered my physique,
I challenged the football team to a one handed push up contest,
I laughed as I continued my winning streak
Upon this time I am no longer neglected
I am calm, patient, and collected
Upon this time I am eighteen
Graduated last week and now I set off to seek my dreams
And that's the end of my 'once upon a time' story
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.
slowly, softly
he paints each
phalanx,
gently
a pale shade
of nude pink
the shade of
opening
conch shell
silky inner lipped
later,
not much later,
he slips them
into his hands
perfectly
they fit
like warm sandals
each fingerprint
wrapped around
slender bare feet;
moving up
to clasp the ankles,
he thinks
he’s on a winning streak
the fragrant frangipani oil
like slippery ink
he writes words
on her hot skin
then later,
not too much later,
he lifts each slick satin limb
like they're a gift to the gods
he prays in between
her eyes, fluorescent glistening
her perfume, the scent of sea
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Lose Control. Teddy Swims.
Living in a world, I know I don't belong.
Wondering if I did something, to cause this wrong.
Feeling deep inside, my life was never meant to be mine.
Always searching for answers, I cannot find.
Living 61 years, upon this beautiful earth.
Learning recently, my life was blessed since birth.
Fighting strong feelings deep inside, I know now I cannot deny,
Knowing I have many guiding Angels, upon which I can rely.
Never knowing what tomorrow will hold,
Ready to go, to help, I must always be bold.
Saving and changing so many lost lives,
I know I'm high, so God takes the wheel and drives.
What should have made me feel so weak,
Just put me on a long winning streak.
My faith, my honesty and my strength,
Can always be described in long length.
Recently finding those many answers I seek.
Who knew Youtube, would be my missing link.
To know I've lived the life, God meant for me.
I'm now free to live my true destiny.
Postcard update
Tells a lot here;
Himalayan trip
~~~~~~~~~
Adrenaline rush
Good news galore;
A winning streak
~~~~~~~~~
My darling's face
Warm sun comes up;
Rainbow smiles
~~~~~~~~~
Lines flavour
Meeting of minds;
Transcend small talk
~~~~~~~~~
Joy in the breeze
Moist feel of rain;
Old dog barks
~~~~~~~~~
Live plainly here
Let faith unveil;
Watch dawning grace
~~~~~~~~~
Waltz with tempo
Sweet music score;
Twin flames dance
~~~~~~~~~
Hurl of dawn
Night opts out;
Embrace new day
~~~~~~~~~
Set new sights
Purge dilemma;
New journal page
~~~~~~~~~
Another day
A blank cheque;
Signature more
~~~~~~~~~
Streaming sunshine
Bright morning charms;
Birdsong salute
~~~~~~~~~
Leon a Enriquez
31 May 2016
Singapore
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