I STILL REMEMBER
Posted: Sun Nov 29, 2015 2:54 pm
This poem is an edited version of one entitled "I Remember", which I posted some time ago.
It was a topic of my Writer's Group where the instruction was " write whatever you like as long as it contains no letter n".
I STILL REMEMBER
I still remember the day I bowled a flipper,
perfect pitch outside leg, grabbed myself a wicket,
the batter was quite clueless, the ball itself a ripper,
best I ever bowled across years of backyard cricket.
Richie would have marvelled at how I bowled that ball,
I was most surprised, I must admit,
truly, that’s the day I felt really tall,
told the puzzled hitter it was time to split.
I recall history made, remember Eighty-Three,
Australia II took out the America’s Cup.
Bob Hawke took the lead, the people partied, filled with glee,
at last, “The Auld Mug’s” stateside stay was up.
The keel of the yacht was radical plus started
much probe, great review by the judiciary.
Boat was umpired legal though, adversaries outsmarted,
Aussie II a victor, yet first treated as subsidiary.
Yes, memory is priceless, expressive as our wits,
our sight, taste, smell, our touch,
the view from our soul, a camera without glitz,
a faculty of which, forever we should clutch.
At times what I remember becomes fairly selective
such as what to call the fellow beside me,
just after meet with him, recall fails to be effective,
embarrassed would describe me, I’m sure you would agree.
Still, despite these small misdeeds, my memory is complete,
I’m aware of who I am, my birth date and address.
Some rellies details may perhaps have me beat
but overall, most facts sit all right, God bless.
Jeff Thorpe © 28 April 2015
It was a topic of my Writer's Group where the instruction was " write whatever you like as long as it contains no letter n".
I STILL REMEMBER
I still remember the day I bowled a flipper,
perfect pitch outside leg, grabbed myself a wicket,
the batter was quite clueless, the ball itself a ripper,
best I ever bowled across years of backyard cricket.
Richie would have marvelled at how I bowled that ball,
I was most surprised, I must admit,
truly, that’s the day I felt really tall,
told the puzzled hitter it was time to split.
I recall history made, remember Eighty-Three,
Australia II took out the America’s Cup.
Bob Hawke took the lead, the people partied, filled with glee,
at last, “The Auld Mug’s” stateside stay was up.
The keel of the yacht was radical plus started
much probe, great review by the judiciary.
Boat was umpired legal though, adversaries outsmarted,
Aussie II a victor, yet first treated as subsidiary.
Yes, memory is priceless, expressive as our wits,
our sight, taste, smell, our touch,
the view from our soul, a camera without glitz,
a faculty of which, forever we should clutch.
At times what I remember becomes fairly selective
such as what to call the fellow beside me,
just after meet with him, recall fails to be effective,
embarrassed would describe me, I’m sure you would agree.
Still, despite these small misdeeds, my memory is complete,
I’m aware of who I am, my birth date and address.
Some rellies details may perhaps have me beat
but overall, most facts sit all right, God bless.
Jeff Thorpe © 28 April 2015
be scared my lovely poets be very scared 