“Who let you in?” jokes Henry the Doorman,
Waving the signing-in book
Like a wanton dervish,
With a glint in his eye.

But in you go,
Into a dimly lit room,
Filled with smoke in yesteryears.
Men in huddles
Hatching plots
Or just playing cards
Or Dominoes.

In the corner those darts are flying,
While blokes stand chatting
At the bar.

Next door you find The Snooker Room,
Where all is silent
As “World League Championships” are underway.
Snooker and billiards to be precise.
Men so serious
Some sitting sternly
Worrying about their match.
The odd breakout of conversation
Over some dispute or debate.

Back at the bar
All is well.
No need to be PC here.
You can say whatever you want.

We drink and drink,
Until the bar closes
At whatever time.
The chat gets louder
As the ***** loosens our tongues.
Then home we roll together.
Every Club.
A place I love.

Paul Butters

© PB 15\11\2017.

Autumn hit us like a truck
Our 90 degree race was promptly followed by days of 40 degree practice
Our elbows chaffing against our shirts, nevertheless grateful for the rest,
The shelter from the humidity
I don't think I was actually breathing as I crossed the threshold of the second lap of our three mile loop
In some odd twist of fate, I'll be running in the varsity semifinals next week
As my lungs tried to tear themselves from my chest, I tried to remind myself that this wasn't my first run
I've had six months of slamming my heels into the ground, just like every other ******* this trail
I heave every time someone passes me
I think, "Just one more deep breath and I will cross that line,"
I think that my height is betraying me and my joints are grinding to a painful halt
I think that I am still moving.

DONALD TRUMP IS MAD AT SPORT
ALL THE ATHLETES MUST STAND UP
DON'T DISRESPECT THE AMERICAN FLAG
THE WHITE HOUSE HAS HAD ENOUGH



ALL INVITATIONS TO THE PLAYERS
THE WHITE HOUSE HAS TAKEN AWAY
CURRY AND LEBRON JAMES
CAN VISIT ON ANOTHER DAY




DON'T DISRESPECT THE AMERICAN FLAG
LETS MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN
TRUMP ATTACKS THE SPORT AND ATHLETES
FOR ON TWITTER HE WILL SEND


TRUMP CHRONICLES   amazon.com

if the Broncos are to win this Friday
night
the intensity of their play must be
right
they'll need full commitment in the
fight
half measures won't cut a victory's
light

the Storm never give an inch on the
field
that why they've held football's top
shield
they keep the pressure on and don't
yield
each member of the team up to the job's
wield

possession of the ball determining the
game
any player slackening off will bear
blame
the premiership's battle is there to
tame
so we'll see a dour contest that's not
lame

less than forty hours to go before the rivals
meet
where footy fans shall experience quite a
treat
the ref's whistle calling upon the vying
beat
there'll be fireworks and no team going into
retreat

Simon “Hurricane” Hudson prowls the snooker table
Like any good mixed metaphor would.
A modern day Pythagoras
He triangulates his shots.

Meanwhile his rival, lion-heart "Rocket" Richard,
Not to be confused with Lionel Richie,
Is on his mobile Googling
How to play the perfect “snooker”.
And the two Perfect Pauls
Discuss the latest football,
While “Whirlwind” Wendy sits in judgement,
Knitting the night away.

At long last Simon plays a stroke!!!
And rattles those unrelenting jaws
Of that elusive pocket yet again.

The game rolls on.
But where the hell is Simon?
The clock on the electricity is running down
But where is Simon?
Where is he?
He’s at the bar
Telling barman Nick how Rochdale
Will win The Cup one day.

Hurray, he’s back to play again.
Cascading planets collide into new orbits
As they did in the Primeval Solar System.

We play on,
Safely keeping those precious *****
Away from those black holes
They call the “pockets”.
We try to pick our shots
(At those pockets lol)
But all we keep potting
Is that white one.
Maybe we should switch to Billiards,
Or *** some plants instead.

Paul Butters

A gob of squash
in a saucer with a hub
let a carrefour marque
with an apple ding
in swirls of romance heading there
a crowd of superfluousness as a hip is king
and a patch through the field
that roll lushly on green for this round mesh
while exquisitness hit so sweet
in a shade of sky  
where ablaze in silky attire
with her brazen desire again.

The epitome of greatness, a mark in history

Of discipline remarkable, a stellar victory

Defeating the unbeaten, knock and break the mould

International heavyweight of Olympic Gold



Strike in quick succession, opponents retreat

Delivery duration, a knockout of defeat

Tactical ability, step into the range

Catalyst created, set for further change



Of the highest calibre, man who beat the man

Delivery on target, a humble champion

Of opponents outclassed, discontinued bout

Dominant performance, within and without



With athletic excellence, distance travelled far

Gym of daily training, cardio and spar

Professional perspective, stood to set the pace

Dedication, boldness, motivate, embrace



Influencing globally, rank of the elite

Rapid combinations, uppercuts repeat

Powerful formation, readiness of stance

Daily preparation, practice over chance



An honourable service, magnificence abound

Celebrating victory, crowding to surround

Continuing the greatness, strength and stamina

The world is truly grateful, Anthony Joshua



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©

Dilly dally ****
Ranieri has now gone.
Sacked by the Leicester board:
Watch them wield that deadly sword.

He won the league last year,
Then made Leicester disappear.
Should have been given a chance
To win the Relegation Dance.

Vardy grabs an away goal at Seville
Then next news the manager is nil.
It was a very nasty shock,
So early in the turning of the clock.

Ungrateful and disloyal too,
Those owners haven’t got a clue.
Hard-nosed business it may be,
Whatever happened to that word “We”?

They should have built a statue in Claudio’s name:
He’ll still be blessed with endless fame.
I’ll leave you with this sorry thought:
Football’s no longer a proper sport.

Paul Butters

Here is a nonsense thought,
A really silly new sport,
Not the sport we were taught,
What about underwater tennis?
Hitting a serve would be a menace!
Then you could volley and lob,
Underwater ,what a hard job!
It's only a nonsense thought,
Can you invent a silly sport?