Tales from the pen. π -Poetry
Our British Cousin. A Poem
Being Awful at Sports
But spending most my life
On Badminton Courts
Gawping at saplings
that smirk at defeat
Their heads through concrete
Hard to believe feats
tender and green
Defying knowledge, sense
and petri dish
What made them so tough, How?
On Earth can a little stem
As weak as a leaf
crack something as tough
And bad as concrete
Curiosity had me jumbled
My insomnia continued,
A schoolgirl in green
Needed to know so-
I dug up the stem
Then gasped at what held
The roots wrinkly and brown
Tough, rough and deep
Enough to run firmly
All under concrete.
Being Awful at Sports
But spending most my life
On Badminton Courts
Gawping at saplings
that smirk at defeat
Their heads through concrete
Hard to believe feats
tender and green
Defying knowledge, sense
and petri dish
What made them so tough, How?
On Earth can a little stem
As weak as a leaf
crack something as tough
And bad as concrete
Curiosity had me jumbled
My insomnia continued,
A schoolgirl in green
Needed to know so-
I dug up the stem
Then gasped at what held
The roots wrinkly and brown
Tough, rough and deep
Enough to run firmly
All under concrete.
Comments
Post a Comment