Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
you cannot be serious man
in what you say
that is what the brat
was heard to say

on the court he'd remonstrate
about the call
he objected to the linesman's
placement of the ball

you cannot be serious man
in what you say
that is what the brat
was heard to say

in tennis circles he had
a no good reputation
for engaging in
all manner of disputation

you cannot be serious man
in what you say
that was what the brat
was heard to say

unsporting behaviour
he'd frequently show
other competitors didn't much
like the tenor of his bow

you cannot be serious man
in what you say
that is what the brat
was heard to say

another of his ilk presently
applies the same guttersnipe stuff
he's a right royal smarty-pants
with his racquet's guff

you cannot be serious man
in what you say
that is what the brat
was heard to say
John McEnroe and Nick Kyrigos.
Nat Lipstadt  Jan 2014
S.S.O.S.
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2014
love love me do
the reply, of course,
feed me tea and oranges
that come all the way from china,
meet by the river,
meet me by the marketplace,
meet me at
the railway station,
we'll pretend to be
strangers in the same compartment,
long lost
combat buddies,
exchanging SOS's,
duelists hidden in plain site,
you'll say I like that tune,
the reply, of course,
it's a memory I haven't had yet,
it's sad and it's sweet,
someday, I'll know it complete,
when I wear an older women's clothes

puzzled,
he will try to be impressive,
trading rhymes for freedom,
verses of hearses mourning distance,
but there are no secrets
the eyes can keep,
or others cannot read,
and if freedom is longing,
then these children are free,
not at last, but to long.

They are the
children of the morning
leaning out of windows,
looking for love,
will they lean that way forever?

there are twenty eight new moons
in the month approaching.

there is a reason for every day,
plus one.

sand castles get washed away,
but
dreams of waves and days
yet to come,
continuous and connected,
the cells and words
that transverse water bodies
built from the long lasting kind of
defiance,
the kind that states as its premise:

love can and should,
perhaps even,
will,
conquer the spaces
between the letters of their
exchanges and trade
whole words for
actions.

but what do I know, little,
for I am but an observer,
a driftwood beetle from another ocean,
a linesman of a different kind,
who only know how to hum
on a long distance line,
a single tune,
she loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah,
an eavesdropper of their voices
that are neither muted,
nor common.
Apologies to Leonard Cohen, Bill Joel, The Beatles, Glen Campbell and Nat Lipstadt, and one or two others who are nameless, from whom I plagiarized shamelessly, for inspiration.

In popular usage, SOS became associated with such phrases as "save our ship", "save our souls" and "send out succour". These may be regarded as mnemonics, but SOS does not actually stand for anything and is not an abbreviation, acronym or initialism.
wordvango Jan 2017
mother was a saint
father her punching bag
sisters were all called *****
when they came home
and failed the ***** check my mother
gave them, mother did nothing wrong
she ruled with brick hard pork chops
and circles of us kids
screaming , a belt in her hand,
who stole my chocolate bar?
No wonder dad had other things to do,
referee in basketball and hockey
an ump in baseball,
a head linesman in football
a devoted Boy Scout mentor,
he mentored so many young men,
but was not there for me.
I grew up not knowing how to tie a knot or survive,
I was lucky mom favored me.
I guess because in that circle of five kids,
me being the youngest , before school age,
to stop the terror I said I had stolen that candy bar.
She was a smart saint, asked me what kind was it?
I failed and was dismissed from the circle of terror.
I went to my room the rest of my days at home
trying to balance the sanity from the insane and withdrew.
I bounced ***** off the wall. Made up fantasy baseball players.
Had all their statistics scribbled in notebooks  
year after year, always my name was there and I was better than Babe Ruth. Somehow , I was smart enough to get the hell out of there.
I got out earlier with mescaline mushrooms *** lsd Quaaludes
alcohol young girls. But, I got out fully when I left to join the Air Force.
I look back and state all this for the purpose of saying it was
all my fault, not mom's or dad's, mine. I was weak.
It took me years and years to figure it out get strong find my voice
consider  my mom as a saint again
and my dad as a martyr!
Claire Torrance Dec 2019
When he tackled again, I was left feeling weak!
Then to lose the last game, and stay top of the league
It's a perfect conclusion, opinions won't sink
Just a simple illusion, of how others think

They dive on the surface, then smile with pride
Did he do it on purpose? Was he trying to hide? 
Gazed through his soul, as he tried to act proud
But he followed his goal, just to blend with the crowd

I would play a pass through, if he tried making space!
He might find, being true, would reward him first place!
With his fans in their seating, he took centre stage
When I knew he was cheating, he turned a new page!

He stood, then declared, he was wearing a mask
Left feeling so scared to go through with the task!
Kicked the ball out the way, then I tried to be friends
But he threw it in play, then ran back in defence

When the ref had revealed there was one vital minute
He barged through my midfield, determined to win it!

Open goal!!, last man!! With no place to hide!
I stood like the linesman, to flag him offside

Now, it wasn't my mission to draw the red card
For this crucial decision came down on him hard

Let the truth take its toll, but i wasn't forgetting!!
Your previous "goal?", had came off the side netting **

— The End —