O wind, have you been waiting?
O widow, wailed for long?
O wasteland, silver plating?
O will within, burn strong!
Nicker, wicker, ichor.
Fate, Fortune, fancy-free.
Blood of heart, run thee thicker!
Gibbous moon, smile at me!
Golem, shall we pack the bags?
Well, we're wearing rags.
Singularity, smile a-sags?
He who loses, brags.
Yes, and when we older grow:
Carrion feeds the crow?
Lava bursts from, volcano?
Unsteady its flow!
Elder race, did you leave trace?
Basalt towers. Doors.
Panels in the sky, thy face.
Falcon? How she soars.
Weapons wild electrical!
Blast them through the drains!
O causality, thy call!
Wait not for the rains!
Rematch. Planned. Numerous. Strong.
Eyes of glass, thy spark.
O eruptions, last thee long!
Help them fear the dark!
Chaos, steps of pyramid.
Ancient orb thrown down.
Forbidden zone? It got rid!
King without a crown...
Say what you will ’bout early mornin’ risers,
Say what you will about those who’ll not sleep.
‘Fore the sun comes up, their breath warms incisors
Ready to chomp at the day’s ripe meat.
A song in their heart, no stars in the sky,
Glittering dons the city her light
To death to steal what's mine go I
For I'll not abandon for that which I fight.
There's hope in my step, this early mornin' riser,
There's song in my throat surely as I breathe
Soon my son, we'll laugh all the wiser
At the challenge we've won at death's defeat.
Who can sleep so late into the morn?
Who can wait to start so fine a day?
Within my heart the cloud-fleece is shorn
And the melody’s changed to happy and gay.
So say what you will ‘bout the early mornin' riser
Say what you will ‘bout he who can't wait
He yet knows death's rematch, that stubborn prize fighter
Cannot long be stilled from his front gate.
The day passes, an idle hitchhiker,
Thumb half-heartedly protruding
A posture half begging, half daring
Go ahead… seize the day
Good luck with that challenge
For daylight slips through the fingers
Craftily dodges with shadowy stealth
All attempts to control it, confine it
A few minutes in a crowded Starbucks
A cold compress of iced coffee
A mindless “atta boy, go get ‘em”
From a high school drop-out Barrister
Another “rope-a-dope” meeting
Stay on your feet, they’ll stop talking soon
How did it come to this
You were once a contender
Another ten round draw
Everyone seems happy
You didn’t embarrass anyone
Rematch tomorrow...8AM
DEFEAT ON CRETE
A folktale from which we have been recreated
Remember that fight I’m quite sure you hated
For this rematch, many centuries I have waited
So keen and strong, now I’ve been resuscitated
But this time I’ll win, as many anticipated
Such an encounter set Greek history ablaze
But this second time extends into future days
I may even emerge blinking, in the sun’s rays
And your dead body left to rot in the maze
Then back to Pasiphae, a hybrid family to raise
So Theseus, for you I have a surprise in store
As you’ll no longer follow that thread, I’m sure
This time, it is me reborn, to settle the score
From the labyrinth, where we once met before
Behold, I’m back, it’s me, the Minotaur!
Selection day we have no voice,
selection day a lump’s in my throat;
Selection day two court jesters
argue over the final straw;
Selection day we are not ready,
selection day just the beginning;
Selection day we’ll wait in line
wondering and wishing for hope;
Selection day we have no choice,
Any option is just a delusion;
Selection of burgundy or oily blue;
Why can’t anyone live with purple?
Selection nonexistent in a rematch,
lightning isn’t supposed to strike twice;
Selection day mimics a time bomb,
selection day anticipating detonation;
Selection day on pins and needles
waiting on our country’s buzzword;
Awoken but yet forsaken this morning,
Selection day we have no choice.
The Queensland National bought out
the crowd of crowds, witnesses to the
Grand Speticail! Advertised as A night
of Feats and Wrestling; onlookers
marveled at the sight of performance
glory.
Well rested, and best trained they
performed for the sold out venue.
People of every spectrum saw
17 match card which pregame show
Drew an historic at home audience.
Which refused to fizzle.The at home
gate was record setting and because
some were refused at the door, promoters
booked the rematch, we don't know the
Date, stay tuned!
US Open fun
Novak versus Matteo
~ Wimbledon rematch
Poet’s note:
As I post this, Djokovic and Berrettini are tied in the first set 4 - 4.
I lost my mooning contest
with the moon.
The odds were in my favor:
two pallid orbs
against one: a sullen sack
up there, barely engaged,
as the gamblers around me
gawked. But
when the blood billowed
down to my noggin,
I swooned, face dunk
in the mud.
Next day all the grog in Terra
below could not
stake a rematch between me
and that bad
bulbous bag of apathy
in the night,
that orbital ogler flashing
its silk surveillance through
our innocent panes
and unsuspecting livers,
exposing our competitive
genitalia to alleged shame,
a heavenly body, distinguished
by the negligence of its ilk.
We file on through scheming life's snaring wiles,
Unlearning bitter lessons sad yesterdays taught;
Biting humble pies for blunders repeatedly made,
Yet unheeding despite like fights erstwhile fought.
Our one-way treks through world's tasking routes
Are at best rehearsals for imagined second walks,
Which infeasible rematch with sad selfsame bouts,
Fleeting breath rightly nips with her cunning clocks.
We thus ought to vastly more steadfastly move,
And with every strengthened stride amply prove
The truth that living pops but once for each man;
And we simply die if we do not live while we can.
Smiling turns occur to usher in impatient others,
And hence no round retarding backward unfurls;
Our feet still unseen episodes constantly beckon
Into new climes wherein time's shadow smothers.
We must seize our fresh hour in its shiniest hue,
While rawest pep throbs in each vein and sinew.
Oh, what a poet I could be,
If it wasn't for Babslou93.
Each day new words come thick and fast,
Each one I think I'll make the last,
But no, I can't resist the lure,
I send a stonker right back to her.
Then back she comes with thirtyfive,
I strive to keep the game alive,
My paltry twenty she jumps on,
Sixty eight, where did that come from ?
I'm really stuck - I've got a Q,
Defeat is clearly now in view.
Resorting to strange words, it seems
Nothing can outwit her schemes.
My every little plot is thwarted,
I'm really feeling quite exhausted.
The end's in sight, a final flourish.
She's won the day. My game was rubbish.
And though I'd like my breath to catch,
No chance, she's after a rematch.
And so the hours are whiled away,
As urgent matters of the day
Are sidelined, but pleasant I agree
Is Scrabbling with Babslou93.
The game just began
With two teams,
On red and the other blue
We in this too,
And all are in...
Fans cheering and some booing
Yeah! we love y'all hater's,
Section and schedules
We gotta make it in time,
From eight to three
Beautiful grasses- fine cut lawns,
This is the game
12 men but six are in
Playing squash without the quard
Its a rough game; So we pay to win
Red cards and yellow cards
The warnings so we look up to the sky
Coach Shouting "this can't be right"!
But we play any way.
Player one is in and Player two left,
Coach benched me:
So im watching the game from the side lines,
Team one scored three goals and later six,
the coach snapped and had to put me on the field
Damn "i had to go again"
I scored nine goals and it was it!
A beast-A mascot to a team winner
Red T-shirt and numbered eleven
Man of the match- I lit up the game
Catch me if you can,
If they want a rematch
And I'm afraid that I'll win again.
Had an argument with the floor and the floor won
A rematch is scheduled, this time I'll be packing a gun
Not taking any chances
Won't end up on the canvass
Pump some slugs in it's under belly and watch all the fun
that time
to let us shine
we'll win
truth is not sin
and she has what it take
for this
REMATCH DEBATE
Today's Date July 24. 2015
Contest Entry---First written Spring 2015
game bullying, hero, silly, sports, strength, word play,,
Champing At the Bit! ©
I hear the roars in the almighty arena
I like to see many a game played out
I am a contender ready for sport
Out for a rematch when elected to strike
Bringing on 'mite and dare' with battle-ax!
.
Inside fielders, outside shots
With vinegar, brawn, spit and guts
Side lines, guidelines guard rails spin
Play your bit and take over until ‘taken’
“Roll me over in fields of clover” again
“Let's roll out the barrel” once more
“The gangs all here” for (old time’s sake)!
To ‘bare’ false teeth replaced from knockouts
Falsely breathing like the lion when times taken ‘out’
False starts, ball belongs to the court ‘out of bounds’
Man ‘sports’ a rebel cry with clansmen at the helm
Fight your battles; fight your wars, fight to finish!
We had gathered 'round the radio, to listen to the fight
A dispute ensued, punches thrown, a bloody fight
Cigarette butts strewn across the floor, some stained in lipstick- red
A broken ashtray by the door where some blood was shed.
By an old typewriter something shiny lay
A gold earring, lost in the fray
It was a helluva fight,
Max throwing lefts
Joe countering with rights
Not to mention our own lefts and rights
But it was Max who wore the crown that night.
Two years later I bought an airline ticket
To see the much anticipated rematch
I thought Schmeling would retain the crown
But my hopes were dashed when Louis ended it in one
A few years later the world was at war
I found myself on a distant shore, fighting the Nazis ......
Blood and gore, horrors of war...
Dead bodies strewn across the fields, stained in crimson red
Broken dreams lay in gutters, where their blood was shed
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