Christmas at the inlaws, posed great challenges because
Was a chance at first impressions I could make
The family quite a bunch, secret Santa, formal lunch
All would test, but there was something more at stake

Further to their traditions, the Australian institution
Back yard cricket, the game in which I must partake
Both nervous and excited, see I love it unrequited
For impressions twas the icing on the cake

I considered myself skilled, both flamboyant and strong willed
And the game very seriously I would take
The brother and the dad, the biggest threats I saw I had
To dominate for the glory I would slake

With lunch dusted and done, we went out into the sun
Inspect the pitch, had it a fresh mow and a rake
A ***** to orchard side, sticks as wickets, bail astride
Chose to bowl, the game was on make no mistake

Much to my surprise, dad was good, I did surmise
I bowled well, but his batting didn't break
He retired steeled, and I went out into the field
For his respect, and his daughter's, I'd not flake

When my turn came to bat, the brother bowled one flat
Out at my toes, applying heat, see if I'd quake
But I settled into play, and hit them all around the way
Was time to showcase and leave them in my wake

I retired not out too, and dad to bat again was due
Keen to bowl at him despite the muscle ache
At the last I took his stump, and the crowd well they did jump
Saw my determination was one that wouldn't shake

The game renewed my bond, for his daughter and beyond
To join this man, and his family was the sake
Mum called time for tea, and we left the field with glee
We were one now, and it was time for cake.

Lose yourself to music that you wanna blast all day long
***** all the neighbors who yell at you for it

Lose yourself in books that you want to read
Read a few a friend would recommend
Otherwise don’t force yourself to read books that you’re forced to read

Lose yourself when you write things you want to write
Don’t let anyone tell you what to write
And don’t change a thing about how you write

Lose yourself when you do what you love
And don’t worry about anyone who is glaring at you

Lose yourself in the eyes of the person you love
Whether it’s him, her or them
Or whether your parents hate them
Or whether everyone hates you both

Lose yourself in the clothes you wear
Ignore any raised eyebrows
Focus on the positive comments

Lose yourself in the make up you wear
Don’t worry boys, this is for you too
And girls don’t stress about it
I certainly won’t care

It’s over, all over.
Our dreams have faded away.
Blackest January sadness blights July.
England beaten by Croatia
In The World Cup.

We reached the semi final
For the first time since 1990
Only to lose in extra-time:
Failing to see the danger
With our very youthful eyes.

So much to be proud of.
So much better than before.
We should have scored a hat-full,
But see the final score:
(One – two).

I really do hate losing
Whatever I watch or play.
It really will be ages
Before this pain fades away.

My defeats I long remember,
It’s from these things I learn.
Seeking to be a winner,
My inner passions burn.

We’re building to the Euros,
On in two year’s time.
Well ahead of schedule,
So losing’s not a crime.

The World Cup stays way out there,
Hopefully just on loan,
For in the hearts of England
Football has come home.

Paul Butters

© PB 12\7\2018.

the title of king
was hotly contested
by a trio of men who
wanted to be invested

in pursuing the ultimate goal
of regent
only one employed a vying
discontent

wicked tactics were ever
his underhanded style of play
which saw the other two
bulldozed well out of the way

they'd not gain the
throne's highest apex
that position reserved
for his sole Rex

he now wears the crown
of questionable ascent
a king who obtained it
through an unsporting bent