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I lie obscured behind a pot.
The pot is dry, but I am not.
Thanks to an active little doggy,
my usual state is chewed and soggy.
But, I should introduce y’all
to who I am—a small green ball.
And though I’m meant to just play tennis,
I fear I face a greater menace.
The antagonist of my sad story
is a Scottie dog named Morrie,
and though all humans find him cute,
his proclaimed merits I’ll refute.
If you’ll forgive a bit of kvetching,
I will explain—he’s fond of fetching.
Hour on hour, day after day,
he makes humans cast me away.
He likes to fetch and chew and drool,
then toss me back into the pool
for whomever happens to be
taking a swim to rescue me
and throw me back down in the yard
so that hairy little card
can race back down to find where I
have been tossed down to and now lie.
I was once pristine—so green and soft—
perfectly planned for bounce and loft,
my lifetime planned and guaranteed
until she broke my seal and freed
me to what I was sure would be
the perfect gaming life for me.
But soon I was given pause
when I was seized between the jaws
of a leaping frenzied pup
who promptly tried to chew me up
and failing this, launched me into
the swimming pool’s warm watery blue.
I’ve lasted, now, three days or four.
It’s doubtful I can last for more.
For after days of constant chewing,
A ball’s not fit for sport or viewing.
Seams split and release air,
sink in the pool and languish there.
The only hope for my abiding
is if I can stay in hiding.
Please don’t reveal my little lair.
Help me preserve my seams and air.
For I will surely lose my bounce
if I’m exposed to one more pounce,
to one more bite or one more chew.
Please save my life. I’m begging you.
If you would simply pick me up
before I’m found by that damn pup,
and throw me over that far wall,
no one would know of it at all.
Perhaps some tennis buff would meet
me lying there upon the street.
He’d pick me up and take me where
I could be sailing through the air
racket to racket—kiss by kiss,
for surely I was made for this!!!
I’ve done my penance, served my time.
I’ve earned a life that’s more sublime.
So hear my plea and heed my call.
Bend down, pick up and throw the ball!!!
The NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem from an unusual point of view.
The Sporting Life
I’ve never had much interest in sports played with a ball.
Of games with pucks or shuttlecocks, I have no need at all.
Gym workouts, laps and chin-ups do nothing for me.
I simply have no talent for touching chin to knee.
The body part I work out with is of a different kind.
I like the sort of games requiring exercise of mind.
Dominoes or Mastermind, Bridge or Chess or Scrabble
are aspects of the sporting life discounted by the rabble.
Yet if you want to hold my interest, team sport is absurd.
Just woo me with a domino, a die, a card, a word.
Lay your mind upon the table, dear, I’ll trump it with an ace.
The contact I like in a sport is merely face-to-face.
The prompt word today was interest.
The Guardian: A judicial review this week will decide whether it was right for Sport England to have ruled that the card game is not a sport. … “Europe has said [sport has] to be physical, but the International Olympic Committee is prepared to include mind sports. … The IOC, for instance, recognises chess and bridge as sports – the respective federations have applied for them both to be included in the 2020 Olympics;