Sidney Lawlor 'The Tournament'
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wimbledon
Let’s have a scrabble tournament! The activity director said.
Let’s not! Yelled an old man. His face turned all red.
Only two wanted to do it, they used to teach school.
I play for blood one said, I am nobody’s fool!
This is a game for fun, not blood, the director said.
The two ex-teachers laughed, one shook out her head.
No one else was enthusiastic, so the three began to play.
You are a cheat! I will not play you! Yelled out Miss May.
Miss Pat was angry now, she threw the board all over the floor.
This was not the end of it, she chased May out the door.
They were yelling and screaming and throwing tiles about.
This was their last scrabble tournament, without a doubt.
Let’s win the racquetball tournament Carlie said.
What she meant was “let ME win the racquetball tournament”.
My girl-next-door-charms usually hides my super competitive spirit.
This time was like all of the others.
When I won she stopped speaking to me.
No big loss.
Age and a footballer
A lot I hold against Age:
It can the cheapest goals wedge,
The fortyish striker make a tired leg;
Final whistle of a match quick to beg,
The referee not afraid to bluff
For a first half long in rounding off!
A great deal I have against Age:
Many a thirtyish dribbler by the ball dribbled
And later when interviewed simply quibbled…
Big names you wouldn’t believe could lousily fall;
The signal to players to hang an advancing boot
Even as either pair still fits either foot.
A zillion things I know about Age:
How very similar it is to Restraining Cage
And some sort of brother to the slowest plague;
The while footballers are still in the race
Merely basking in God’s grace…
The many times one is featured in a tournament
Age patiently withholding its embarrassment
girls basketball games
Iowa is serious
watched more than the boys
the whole state turns out for it
girls basketball games
grandmas and mothers see selves
as they watch their ruthless cubs
I stand tall in the center ring
Everyone pays attention
For I'm about to start the game
The world is going to turn
One wears blue
He who wears red
But I don't have much clue
The audience is on flare
Keep the match going
Make all things right
But who are you to judge me
I see my own rules right
Don't you dare to speak my language
I might not understand
You are barking in a wrong tree
Your words are not bland
Still in the end
I'm the tournament king
If you don't know how I set my game
I think this game is not your thing.
Many tennis teams, come to our valley
It is rumored they "volley" with Sally
All those balls in one court
She will have to resort
To a scorekeeper's card to keep tally !!
____________________________
For Roy's Contest: Bawdy No. II 6/16/14
Tigers of babylon draw tight
Power atlas at its brazen right
Strings and limbs, we can use these things
Explosive hips happen in flight
But all that grasps stays in sight
From shoulder to core declaration
On this mat we make a firm statement
With his arms on knees steadies his lance
Searching for breath gives him a glance
The crowds heads moved left
To right- following the ball-
'Till it hit the floor.
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