"tournaments" poems
I
am
one
rejection
away
from
softball
tournaments
and
flannel.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 7:18 PM UTC
The young and bold Sir Lancelot
Had shunned the lady of Shalott
And all the swooning maidens, dear.
His heart belonged to Guinevere.
And were she not to Arthur, wed,
She'd have the heart-sick knight instead.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad sir Lancelot du Lac.
When first he came to Camelot
The orphan knight, Sir Lancelot
Did prove his worth to Arthur's Court
In jousting, and such noble sport
And with his charm and courtly grace,
His confidence and handsome face,
He won the heart of Guinevere,
And so he found his heart's one fear.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
In tournaments and deeds of arms,
He never fell to earthly harms.
His Lady's scarf about his breast,
He held aloft his knightly chest
And for her honor always strove,
And worshiped her with courtly love.
But she is wed, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
Beneath a tree, the young knight slept
And one day, four queens on him crept,
The chief of them, Morgan Le Fay.
With magic, they stole him away.
A choice they begged of him to make,
That one of them his heart should take.
But love is strong. They had no luck
In tempting Lancelot du Lac.
When Melegans stole Guinevere
A cart, Sir Lancelot did steer
To reach the hold where she was kept,
Then toward the treacherous knight he leapt.
He bested him with slash and blow,
But to Sir Lancelot's great woe
His Lady simply laughed in jest
And saw no honor in his quest,
For he arrived upon a cart.
Thus, broken was the young knight's heart,
And in a rage he left the place.
He longed just for his Lady's grace.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
The young and bold Sir Lancelot
Had shunned the lady of Shalott
And all the swooning maidens, dear.
His heart belonged to Guinevere.
And were she not to Arthur, wed,
She'd have the heart-sick knight instead.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
So when he quested for the Grail
He made a promise he would fail.
He said he'd not love Guinevere,
But as he spoke, he shed a tear.
He knew one day their love would end
The table round, and hurt their friends.
So when this promise he did break
The land of Camelot did quake.
For Agrivan, King Arthur, told
His wife did love Lancelot bold
And Arthur sent her to the pyre
To end her sinful love, in fire.
But Lancelot, his queen, did save
And Arthur fell into the grave
And all the knights of Table Round
Were torn apart, could not be bound.
And thus the fall of Camelot
Was caused by one Sir Lancelot.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of bold Sir Lancelot du Lac.
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 9:29 PM UTC
Perhaps the greatest tennis player the World has ever seen
She had won nine Grand Slam tournaments before she was nineteen
Till her marvellous tennis career was prematurely ended in such a tragic way
Thrown from her horse her foot was crushed that's life as some might say.
The marvellous Maureen Connolly the greatest tennis player of her time
Her great career had ended long before she had reached her prime
Nine grand slams as a teenager her record may never be beat
She won every grand slam tournament in which she did compete.
The greats of present day tennis we hear so much about
Though 'tis not on their greatness we ever cast a doubt
But of nine Grand Slams as a teenager none of them can boast
To the late Maureen Connolly we ought to drink a toast.
Great tennis players like the Seasons they come and then they go
But there was only one Maureen Connolly the legendary 'Little Mo'
Nine Grand Slams as a teenager believe it if you may
The champion amongst champions her record stands today.
Apr 25, 2010
Apr 25, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
Here's one for the gamers
dungeon dwellers, competitors and casual players
Whether they're at home or at a friend,
footballers, car racers or dragon slayers
To the world that looks down on us
for those who's hobbies least appeal
Just because they don't understand the reason
or share the passion we feel
Gamers like acheivements
each to their own
Whether its to vanquish the opposition
build, or break their enemies throne
Is that so different
perhaps they spend a lot of time at home
But isn't playing online with their friends
a little better than just sitting alone on ones phone?
The world of gaming has evolved
and adapted so much
It's a common to see a mother aligning fruit
or a child with a flapping duck
And is it such a bad thing
if the players are actually having fun
It may not be making them better
but I can think of many worse things they could have done
They say games encourage violence
but these people are some of the kindest I've ever seen
Theft, ****** and street racing
would it not be better if these things were only done behind a computer screen?
For many, its more than just a game
and can lead to some desperation
But people need to know the limits
and play in moderation
For some
it's to do things they wouldn't normally do or say on a daily basis
A couch potato wanting to explore the world
avoid boredom, keep their mind from stasis
To feel the breeze of a challenge
drive a fast car or
sword-fight,
maybe even do some parkour
Whether they want to skydive
or skate over a hill
To be able to do something dangerous
without having to sign a medical bill
We all have our reasons
some play casually while others play to vent
E-gaming has become so popular
now hosting world tournaments and many gaming event
This is how we are
so please let us be
Our motives are like captured birds
are we are just setting them free
Whether you want to be a princess
or guardian of a banana tree
You can do whatever you want
just follow your dream
People will always be different
this is just another sub-culture; like fans of a band
But we are the gamers
and by this title proudly we stand
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
Today it starts,
A game of two halves.
Shame no one told us.
They will play,
We will watch
With one eye half shut
They will talk,
Another good game.
But fail like 1970,
To claim a prize,
We think of our own.
I was two the only time,
We raised a trophy,
That my father saw,
Being held aloft in ’66.
We claim our three lions roar,
Only they whimper out of tournaments,
With nothing, but a story of penalties,
And another cross bar denying.
So I say what will be different,
This four year cycle?
I know that the pain will be the same,
Angry words chanted, and dreams shattered
But then there is always
A spark of hope…
Or the next time.
©Nick Strong
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 5:23 PM UTC
Disclaimer. They already have this.
God **** where was i
what happened to pokemon go,
I mean wouldn't it be cooler if
the pokemon you caught could battle later
and train them and do tournaments
that's the pokemon go
I woulda wanted
battle in an augmented reality,
virtually with strangers
I mean wouldn't it be hot if you said to some chicik
or dude,
hey my charmanders in close proximity of your squirt\
I uh mean squirtle
battle?
whilst wasted at the pub
Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 7:49 PM UTC
How many has it been,
One, 2, Three?
How Many Outpatients
More Than 9.
How many hospitalizations
Like 2
How many therapist
7
Phycatrist, counselors, etc ?
So So many.
Here I am going once again for the
Fourth time
To residential rehab.
They say I need more time
For a mind so ill like mine.
6 months or a year
To be fine.
The frustration that I get from not able to do right
Tournaments me
I kust want to be set free and fly
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 5:58 AM UTC
On Monday
you are sponges
Squeezed empty by
Pokemon tournaments and
Supernatural Watchathons
On Wednesday
you are dictionaries
lexicons of hyperbolic histrionics
thesauri of sturm and drang and
angsty angsty goodness
But Friday
you are IMDB
airbenders and Fassbender and
light bending across the sails
of a ship bound for the
unreal
implausible
impossible
unnatural
illogical
while Monday
you are rabid
like word-eating mongrels
and Wednesday
you are 1930's radios
spewing never-before-heard myths and mysteries
but Friday
you are careening
between the moons of Jupiter
ungrounded
unfettered
untethered
unrealistic
imaginative
but Friday
you are
gone gone gone gone
gone
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
It feels great to be back on the mats doing jujitsu not use a GI but I'm picking up on everything. I want to get my black belt and compete in tournaments
I've been feeling change because of it eating better, cutting back, regaining flexibility, waking up muscles recalling muscle memory.
Getting into patterns learning to execute moves better; I may not be one of the best, but I give my best so everyone gets better.
Competing with blue belts is another level but I see myself just as good or better. I'll earn their respect I don't expect them to give it to me.
I'd like to teach class one I get my skills down share my craft. I'm doingit for me but if others benefit that's a bonus. I'm glad to make it happen
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 10:40 AM UTC
(I swear, this is the short version:)
music
dancing
pointe shoes
walking, just walking
sketching
photography
reading
writing
poetry
sunset
him
sunrise
teaching
stories told
love, just love
an empty beach
a starry sky
a forest that's awake
a city that never sleeps
people who get it
people who get something else
hockey games
air hockey tournaments in his basement
driving, just driving
making people smile
cuddling
making people laugh
the sound of a deaf person laughing so fully
the moon
the sun
the wind
the rain
the snow
the noise
the nothing
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
I'm the little housecat
who hangs out with dogs
plays with frogs
and yarns at the shiny ball
I'm the little girl
who'd rather play football
than volleyball
and would rather not text my crush, but call
I'm the old man
who'd rather go swimming
than watching who's line is it?
or golfing tournaments.
This is why I'm misunderstood by everyone
they see it one-way and I see hundreds
Which way is acceptable?
I'm the little boy
who thought he was into girls, because they called him a man
but grew older to find out
I love other men.
I'm the art student
whom everyone says that should just drop out of school
take a different major, be a boss, make rules.
Then discovers that without art they'd be as lost as the world of fools
It would seem everyone has their own opinion
about what everyone else should be, or what and how everyone should do
However, each choice made.
should be the choices made with you own heart.
So what you want to do.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
Dear Dad,
thank you for always brushing my hair and teaching me how to do a ponytail. For never getting tired of piggy back rides and Sunday rides in the Cadillac. Thank you for the 5am drives to softball tournaments and the countless hours playing catch. For reminding me to not dip my elbow and to dig my heels. Thank you for dealing with my stubborn attitude and moody years. For always bringing home breakfast when i needed it most. Thank you for starting my car when the snow is to our knees and making sure im always up for work. Most importantly Thank you for showing me the love i deserve. For always loving everyone around you with your whole heart. Thank you for setting an example of a man of God and a man of his word. For setting the bar high and reminding me that no Queen should ever have to settle.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 12:49 AM UTC
The only thing i solemnly swear
Is to violently tear
A hole in the sky
And climb through the air til im finally there
A few died on a cross just to try and be heirs
Facing facts God's face is black and they're inherently scared
If i reach a throne
Physical or metaphorical
I'm dealing miracles like morphine drips
And you could score a few
Otherwise
Im holding torture tournaments
Inside the gates of heaven
God begging ME for mercy as i torch him and his brethren
Eleven times over I've tried to bind Jehovah
To a book men have died for trying to be soldiers
Writ in blood the words inside lose all their touch
Im losing all this blood just to try and feel the rush
Of turning the last page and alighting all the brush
Don't back away from the flame
Its just me
Talking to US
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 3:15 AM UTC
winning two tournaments in two weeks
surely a most impressive feat
"my" Agnes did it with a smile and killer techniques
her gravel game looked pretty and complete
even though today she looked a bit tired
her opponent saw it, and tried to take her down
but Agnes persevered, the trophy was what she desired
a win here was sure to make her the talk of the town
after the match, she burst into tears
her coach came on court to comfort her
and made her aware of her fanclub's cheers
but to her, everything must've been a blur
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 3:38 PM UTC
a new career opportunity
has come Tom's way
and it shall pay him well
for many a day
some have said he's left
his run too late
but this vocation is of
the right time and date
you may ask what Tom
is going to pursue
if you hang around for a minute
I shall tell you
his tennis coach says
he's got potential
to become an older player
with fine credentials
Tom sharping
his ball tossing skills
and doing a lot of baseline
and net drills
he's been working
on his serving technique
so too on backhand shots
which are so oblique
the over fifties
singles title is his aim
which he hopes to win
with great acclaim
his coach reckons
he perform well in the competition
as he has the right attitude
and volition
Tom's entered tournaments
here and overseas
the ones on grass courts
he'll take out with ease
he's confident the tennis circuit
is where he belongs
his first match will take place
in Hong Kong
Tom has signed
a sponsorship deal with Wilson
all of their racquets
and tennis equipment he proudly don
Tony Roche has offered him
his valuable support
as he embarks on his tour
of world tennis courts
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 5:57 AM UTC
Written shots come in all shapes and sizes,
Size matters like size six, eight or fourteen.
Fortune braver the first line alternates the second so on so forth.
What becomes sizeable?
What's your size?
Little antidotes from a measured eagle size flies,
Weighs it all up from a prolific mind blasted out its circumference,
Two lines make three so on so forth.
In size short or long corridors open left and write,
Rooms of poetic justice words escape its meaning of pride,
Trying to connect its versatility,
Weighing up all its options to a third eye so on to the forth.
High five thinking outside a sizeable box,
A perfect band meets five,
Your five a day fruit flavoured squashed for you,
Drinking your rainbow colours that your taste buds acquire,
For then be hit for six.
Six like **** curves figure dressed up in silk hanged up with a second coat,
There's a cat amongst the pigeons,
A cricket high score,
A winner catches it all out from a wicket duck 0.
A severed chase far from Devon.
Sailing on the seven seas on a ocean boat ride reach so wide,
Beckoning on a horizon with the world looking so flat but at your feet,
Never reaching the edge just for evermore,
No deck of cards would collapse or fall from this fate.
My great mate who I now hate as late as it goes round and round in a figure of speech,
Rate this of the eight wonders of the world,
Paradise monuments globalisms tournaments under and over a bridge we go and we go.
Nine I'm not taking no for an answer, upside down to the left six had it all,
Too much size from those verses,
Saliva grown twitch es,
A centre forward scores a goal,
The last but not least single number,
Einstein a rocket launch..
For then ten let it be impeccable when circling around next to its dolby one den,
Fur marks of a Lion gathered round a pack of clubs five odd and five even,
Doubled up figure of been odd but really been even Steven or maybe roughed up down in Nuneaten nine mine.
O'Reily@15112014
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
We would be in the city of poets
and I'd write my touch on your skin
we may or may not have been on dinner dates
but surely we'd have all 3 meals together
you'd love the poetry I write
and I'd love the miracles of my talent
we'd read the same books
and study together
despite you studying anthro
and me science
but I am sure we'd find some common classes too
or the small gap between them
I'd sneak you into my dorm with my hoodie
or we'd drive off into our forever
one that we dreamed off
one that was a choice
one that you never chose
or maybe not
maybe
We'd be in the city of lights
the city that never sleeps
and I'd pick you up every other morning
and we'd have breakfast at espresso
or we'd sit in my car and have what your mom makes
we may or may not be going to the same college
but that wouldn't stop us from reading the same books
or going to food & book festivals
maybe even debating together in the same tournaments
your mom would have a face to my name
and mine would know who "all this" is about
we would fight but trust me
a kiss would more than suffice
and I'd sneak you out at 2 am
and we'd drive off to a now then
a now with peace & love
a now with your favorite music
a now that you never chose to be
but maybe
just maybe
either way
we'd both be left with a place
we could call home
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
Living life as a king
They're a weirdly, kind type.
They like reading comics and playing computer games.
They like to go visit the movie theaters and eat m&m;'s until 9:45.
They call themselves like 'kingslayer' and ' magic142'.
Which is a way to escape their horrid real names.
They hate losing card games. But use it as a strategy to help next time.
Living life as kings
The get access to secret clubs
They get to go to tournaments and win for their team
They get all the women who are interested in how cool they really are
Living life as a king
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC
you know, you are allowed a Kandinsky or a *******
moment in poetry:
it's like the development of the cut-up technique
beginning with Tristan Tzara and the Dada "school"
of "thought", developed later by William Burroughs
et al., it doesn't have to be fixated to a definite
curvature, a smooth narrative, this is poetry
in a boat, during a storm on the sea, it's not a Cambridge v.
Oxford boat race on the pristine Thames...
some critics ascribe such methodology as either
outright stupid or by psychiatric definition a *word
salad*, but it's simply kaleidoscopic juxtaposition,
it really is a dog drooling ultraviolet saliva onto a
canvas, while someone shakes his head
(preferably a bulldog, or a boxer, or a St. Bernard)...
oh look at him, such ***** eyes, gotta just cuddle him...
i'm not using newspaper snippets, as if writing
a stalker's letter, cutting out letters and gluing them
together on a piece of paper... it's spontaneous
combustion (most of the time)... the only method in it
is that there isn't a method to begin with...
unless randomisation of a gaseous substance with
that hectic squash game of atoms is the adequate
simile... if i were to say that was a metaphorical comparison
i'd be walking through foggy streets of London (circa 1884):
after all words have only a one dimensional interaction
that's the existential recipient of all of them,
the existentially affirmative aye - i left the other
affirmative word thought among the others,
since, sometimes, as in the cases of melancholia, thought
isn't necessarily categorised as affirmative, relegating,
drowning the prime affirmative aye with its awkward
structure (form)... all the words must pass through the ego,
not all of them have to pass through thought,
the ones that bounce against the squash cube wall that's
ego make it onto the page... more do so when compared
with treating thought as the wall and the effective structure
for the rubber ball to bounce against.
me playing squash? oh yes, very much so, loved it,
played about 4 times a week, better than tennis,
which is why no squash tournaments are televised, it's
not really a spectator sport, it's too enjoyable to have
a passive public... it's a sport with the player in mind,
like a horse attached to a carriage with those shutters
over their eyes; so now what? is poetry not allowed to
look like a ******* painting, randomised and incoherent
when compared to the standard practices of narrators?
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
A new career opportunity has come Lesley's way
And it shall pay her well for many a day
Some have said she's left her run far too late
But this vocation is of the right time and date
You may ask what she is going to pursue
If you hang around for a minute I'll tell you
Her tennis coach says she has potential
To become a older player with excellent credentials
She is sharpening up her ball tossing skills
And doing a lot of baseline and net drills
She's been working on her serving technique
So too on her backhand shots that are so oblique
The over fifties singles title is her aim
Which she hopes to win with great acclaim
Her coach reckons she'll perform well in the competition
As she has the right attitude and volition
She's entered tournaments here and overseas
And the ones on grass courts she'll take out with ease
She's confident that the tennis circuit is where she belongs
Her first match will take place in Hong Kong
Lesley just signed a sponsorship deal with Wilson
And all of their merchandize she'll proudly don
Billy Jean King has offered her valuable support
As she embarks on her tour of world tennis courts
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC
I read in an article
That Tiger Woods hooked up with a ******
That's why Lindsey Vonn broke up with him
What's wrong with people?
Lindsey always flew to be with Tiger
But Tiger always put his game first
According to the article
The friend of Tiger says he
Wished she had forgave him when they went to therapy
Well, I can understand why she didn't
Falling into an old habit
Hooking up with a ******
When you have a beautiful woman
Like Lindsay Vonn
I don't get it
How can someone who is so dedicated
And has won as many tournaments as him
Be such a big ***** up
I'm in no position to judge
As we all make mistakes
But things were going so well for them
And they were so happy together
Ugh!
It must be because he is pretty much
A self-centered person
Well Lindsay
I can run a bit better than a 7 minute mile
And I am a pretty good golfer
Let's go on a date, lol
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:54 AM UTC
I recall you still a ghost on oceans sunset horizon through haze of pills and ***** Do you ever think the same my dear?
Seeing everything through glass eyes ,can't see straight but its only way I feel alive.
In reflections of the past and oceans crash the tide carries away the guilt with my false sense of pride. Does the hourglass seen by a cruel reflect of what was never to be god **** the night it haunts me still with every round.
Memories hunt me like a lost soul that cant find its resting place. With every liquid injection every day still hard as the last to forget about what could have been.
Torment are pictures that hang from empty walls now vacant as I. And if we should meet again in a far off moonlit embrace would you tell me it just was all the same a distant look in a scene to be a snuffed candle flame.
As if we could hold embrace for more than a day. Why must this life cone with so many tournaments and heartache that doesn't seem to be able to go away.
We are shards of fragments left shattered upon the floor nothing rings true.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC