In swim trunks, the balls were out.
Each one scored a mighty shout.
digressed to a maul,
in a beachside brawl
Winners were in serious doubt.
I do enjoy verbal tennis
wordplay may be a game
outwit outsmart the opponent
is the only aim
lobbing phrases across the net
volley and rally back and forth
no one's a loser and yet
those precious few
who think on their feet
will always win have you beat
Shakespeare is the all-time champ
merely a player with poem and sonnet
through thick and thin he'd go for a spin
and put some English on it
it's fun for all with no balls or calls
and if your serve is up to scratch
unless words fail
at the thought you quail
it's word game set and match
They're going to war with themselves by trying
to attack you
this is how you know they aren't bright so pray for
light in dark fools
weapons formed will come against but will hit many
brick walls
a blank face will hide smiles under the surface as they
take swift falls
these magic tricks are just that so ring the alarm on
close calls
attacks just boomerang right back like reply's to
missed calls
why in the hell are these flaws so easy to see in real
time?
let them do as they please for their karma requests pay in
due time
i'm neither for nor against the back & forth but can i just
live & do me?
i guess shinning light disrupts demons in dark places
that hate what you see
turn the other cheek if the price is right but i turn
wheels like Bill C.
i just wrote this to bark back real quick & play bob to your
weave
The aggressive ones argue with the rules.
They spike the balls, making us look like fools.
I am not good at returning, and horrible at the serve.
Come on! Let’s play volleyball you say, if you have the nerve.
Frankly I don’t, all my memories are sad.
I was one of the worst ones. Ask my Mom or Dad.
Do not ask my grandma, for she’ll lie through her teeth.
Pretending I could do anything sporty. She fibs over and beneath.
I do remember wishing we did not ever have to play it again.
The ones who were out for blood were Amazons ready to win.
They despised the short ones, especially my sister and me.
We had wobbly arms. Neither of us could serve, you see.
So many will have memories of glory and fame.
They were probably eight foot tall and had a cute name.
My sister and I used to slink off all ashamed.
She is Volley. I am Ball, neither of us twins aptly named.
VOLLEY WORLDS LIKE TABLE TENNIS
Table tennis
Isn’t the menace
Didn’t you mention?
Hearts full of toil
Bleeding tendencies of old
Rancid particles
Already hidden astronomical
What is my purpose?
How can I imagine
When I got my mindful
Wonders beyond fathom
Come let’s embrace the world
Volley the ball?
9/11/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
If very hard read,
take the log from your eye -
or perhaps it's the wrong creed
meriting such custard pie.
Language archaic?
Well so what if it scans
Neither Norse nor Aramaic,
I'm certain most understand.
A trifle obscure?
My due consternation!
Still … are you certain 'it's ... sure ...
not poor imagination?
Leave critical muck.
Produce own Odyssey
Rather than to be stuck
In morass of jealousy.
Jousting and parrying the parasol defend the brolly Etiquette has lost the brawl on the way to the trolley To raise it a little higher a common courtesy Today they are wielding them with no mercy Wetter now two men stuck in the door with their shields It is not the days of chivalry I’m glad they're not fighting for real It’s like they are standing under a tree after the rain has quit In the age of selfie’s they have forgotten some etiquette
Rainfall washing
Light splashes on windowpane…
Leaving nothing behind
No pattern or trace…
If only those tears
Anguishly wept for you…
Upon your deathbed
Had washed away…
Cleansing the pain
That even now abrades my spirit…