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Rajinder Jun 2020
look at the graph, he said,
this line that makes a hill
is the echo from your heart.
who sent the first ping?
a beat, a rhythm I can't decode?
Next time, listen to your heart carefully.
Sing me a song,
So I can sing along,
Sing me something sweet
That will lift me from my feet,

Life is dramatic and I need to hear you sing,
Life is chaotic and I need to feel your sting.
Star BG Mar 2019
We spoke, each raising voices,
as verbal ping pong game

I sitting on an invisible
Goddess throne,
believing I was justified.

And he, thinking
with limited perspective
that he could dishonor me.

We spoke continuously,
each trying to control discussion
UNTIL, I took a breath and realized
quiet was best solution.

Till I realized,
that it was better to walk away
and tend to my life
leaving scribbling to the squirrels.
just saw the word ping pong and this poem grew. I did not have a fight with anyone. LOL
(a quid pro quo plug for zaftig women)

women that tip weigh ling needle to spin vicious circle
     akin to puppy chasing her/his tail
     or require digital scale,
at the extreme alt right registering heavy
     ba Jill 'en Jack knifed pail loads  
     whether young or old ought to be appreciated

     not waifer thin self starved as a rail,
instead they suffer unfair injustice
     like a trapped quivering quail
thus this fatalistic, generic,
     and holistic landlubber
     wanted to point head lee
     hammer home one secure
     heterosexual ******* stronger than

     omnipotent Marcy's Playground
     weather beaten pail
     Trent Reznor's sixty 9 inch rust free steel nail
into the coffin of bias
     against bevy of beautiful babes
     within the mind of this male,
who inherited genetic predisposition
     for being average, hearty and hale

yet feel compassion for those engaged
     in an ongoing with battle of the bulge,
     hmm... perhaps hiding ample *****
     akin to milky sopping wet grail
or accepted unequivocally themselves
     without envy of lithesome women,
     who seem to possess flair with nary a flail
     yet possess much love to avail,

and tis wise to love oneself unconditionally
     despite premium aesthetics considered svelte
which mass media accentuates de facto spelt
definition of femininity aka runway models
     donned in faux animal pelt
whose deliberate self exhibition
     prompts madding crowd of man

     to waggle tongue with slack jaws  
     as if ready to melt
or at instantaneous signal telepathically felt
drop drawers upon removing blackbelt.
JayceeJellies Feb 2017
my phone pings
and as I pick it up
I see your messages,
blurred, but there.
my eyes shut
as I think to myself,

*I'm having trouble
falling asleep...
Paul Butters Feb 2015
Ping Pong World Champ Andrew Baggaley,
Wow that lad can really play.
Dethroned the “King” who came from Russia,
Then 1966d that kid from somewhere near Prussia.
Inspired by a great sporting victory by Andy.
Poetic T Oct 2014
My Heartbeat is like
Each beat radiates out,
The surroundings
It pings of others beats,
Repelled back to mine,
Secrets revealed within each beat
Each has its own reply,
With each beat I release
An essence of those who are
Upon a look, each replying
As beats fasten,
Knowing the Sonar has
Penetrated deep within each ,
Showing there feelings,
That each beat echoes out to there hearts.
Russell Antee Apr 2014
Oh paddle, oh paddle, where could thou be?
You've shown me a place,
Where not my eyes, could see,
You've become a place, a part of my soul,
You're the key to a puzzle,
One that makes me whole,
A material of my passion, thou takes't a hold,
Without you I am feeble, Skills less than bold,
100's of matches, you've helped me win,
Now without you, again I must begin,
To move on, is something I must do,
Sad to see you go, I must bid you adieu,
Playing without you, will never be the same,
No matter how many times people may tell me,
Our time together was more than just a game.

— The End —