Tag Archives: game

Well Played

I am through,
And it’s all on you.
I know that I will lose,
And when I do,
I know that I will choose
to welcome death,
I cannot catch my breath,
My eyes are sunken,
My mind is drunken,
My face is ripped off and I’m hunkered,
The body blows are raining
and I’m failing,
Because I cannot duck and weave,
How can I when I cannot even breathe?
There’s no reprieve.
I am drowning
in the sky,
I cannot hide,
The night
washes over like a tide,
Fills my lungs with poisoned dye
overflowing through my eyes
like acid tears,
And I am melting,
Dissociative and helpless.

I am through
and it’s all on you,
You could stop this if you choose,
But you refuse
to let it go,
Your heart is stone,
Your hooded deeds are hammers striking bone,
Your words alone are iron
and I am pummeled from a lion
to a haggard Jouvet cat,
Slipping from the only consciousness I had,
My head is lolling,
The water’s calling,
I am falling,
I am drowned,
The roar of life
has dragged me down
and it has left me
without sound,
Silent, bloated, blue.

I am through,
and it’s all on you.

Well played.

Games

Let’s play a different type of game:
I’ll pretend that you’re not home late,
If you pretend that you’re ashamed,

I’ll ignore your pathetic state,
If you wipe all that lipstick off
your shirt and make your tie look straight,

I will ignore the telling wafts
of the perfume that’s on your skin
and the alcohol when you cough,

If you don’t act like the victim,
Like hurting me is hurting you,
Like it’s done and she means nothing,

I’ll forget she’s someone that I knew,
I’ll forget that this time makes three,
I’ll pretend I hadn’t a clue,

If you’ll just stop your whiny pleas
If, like a man, you’ll own the blame,
If you’ll just go ahead and leave,
Because I’m tired of that game.

napowrimo2015Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to write a terzanelle. I’ll let you read about it here. It certainly was a challenge but I enjoyed it.


******UPDATE!!!******

Looks like my mind was elsewhere today and I didn’t read the full prompt. Thankfully it was pointed out by a fellow poet and the reworked poem is below. I prefer the original, but this one is a true terzanelle. What do you think?

If you pretend that you’re ashamed,
I’ll pretend that you’re not home late,
Because I’m tired of this game,

I’ll ignore your pathetic state,
If you wipe all that lipstick off,
I’ll pretend that you’re not home late,

I will ignore the telling wafts
Like there’s no perfume on your skin,
If you wipe that lipstick off,

If you don’t act like the victim,
Like hurting me is hurting you,
Like there’s no perfume on your skin,

I’ll forget she’s someone that I knew,
I will not stop you when you leave,
Like hurting me is hurting you,

If you just stop your whiny pleas
If, like a man, you own the blame,
I will not stop you when you leave,
Because I’m tired of this game.

The Flyers

The green,
The black,
The white,
The stripes,
The thrill of the fight,
The delight of the graft,
Two halves,
And a whole lot of heart,
And the laughs,
(And the cries),
And the cheers,
(And the sighs),
The battle calls from the sides,
The banks burst as passion flies
through the field,
We never yield,
Camaraderie and pride,
Revelry like a tide,
Never ebbing, never hushed,
Enthused and infused with
a rush of hunger that is king,
CHAMPIONS
– lose or win –
Undampened spirits
and a bond akin to kin;
Whether you or whether him,
Whether mine or
whether theirs,
The pride is shared,
No favour dared,
They are
OURS
as we watch them flower;
Flyers into soarers,
Scorers
on the turf
and in the air.

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This poem was written for NaPoWriMo. Today’s prompt was to be inspired by the things you can see out of your window. As my current view is rather uninspiring, I chose to write about my son’s football match instead. So today’s offering is dedicated to all of my fellow football parents!