|Humor Poetry posted February 4, 2013|
A Ball's Point...
Red Weathered Leather
RED WEATHERED LEATHER
I'm old and weathered
stained and marred
no longer rolling round the yard
my leather hide
has stitches loose
this causes drag in my caboose
I'm out of shape
I've been retired
life as I know it, has expired
I used to witness
and all their little dummy spits
each stubborn kid
each shriek and shout:
"It's tippy-go!" - "That's fuckin' out!
But things are dim
my polish gone
red sphere's veneer, "has-been" and shone
the days, are dull
although I try
I lack all shine, yet graced the sky
I can't complain,
but memories, entrenched remain
My jacket's split,
my seam is cracked
from being pounded, hurled or whacked
by every Harry
Tom and Dick,
and one called Pete, that nasty prick
he'd pelt me hard
in hopes I'd thump
my supple skin on wooden stump
but rarely did
he get me pissed
the four-eyed fuckwit mostly missed!
Apologies to those who wear glasses (myself included)
No malice intended. Only from the ball of course.
Thanks for reading...
PS for those NOT up with (backyard) Cricket terminology "tippy-go" means - if you hit it, you have to run. Even if you ONLY snick it a teency bit.
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