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The Sound of Laughter, by Peggy Gerber

31/3/2022

 
As the first buds of Spring
peep from the dark brown earth,
children awaken from their wintry hibernation
like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis,
and race to the emerald green
fields to play football.

The sound of laughter
rings in the new season.

Gone Forever, by Andrea Damic

29/3/2022

 
Gone Forever
Among the Stars
His Spirit travels
While Flesh is Mortal
Left behind

The Last Wave Tanka, by Padmini Krishnan

28/3/2022

 
The dove song soothes

and the northerlies cradle

your wet youthful grave

yet etched in our subconscious

is your deep rippling laughter

Shades of Grey, by Bill Cox

28/3/2022

 
I watch your vapid moralising, your primate posturing,
See how you savour your outrage, cherish your resentment.
I observe your judgement rise like steam from your scorching black and white morality,
Your conviction seething with righteous fury and indignation.
I want to remove this white-hot certainty from you,
So in your mind I insert the thought;
What if there is no right nor wrong, no good or evil,
Just the movement of atoms, colliding randomly,
In foetal cells and spiral galaxies,
Making art, painting the universe,
With a palette of infinite shades of grey?

We Need a Referee, by F. Spencer Loomis

28/3/2022

 
What this world’s awful war needs is a real Referee
To throw penalty flags on this wars killing sprees
And tell some team’s owners they can’t use rogue thug teams
That kill the other teams and their fans too
That pillage and destroy other’s stadiums here
And even attack their own fans who see that’s wrong as well
They should insist teams fielded would command some respect
That don’t spend all their energy to pillage, smash and wreck
But this world is now watching their evil display
And pray there’ll be some real Referees
That will now end this war today

Euphoria, by Guy Fletcher

24/3/2022

 
Just for a short while
the man wearing a black cap
allows a broad smile

but it does not last
and euphoria retreats,
he thinks of the past

In Days of Yore, by Sue Clayton

24/3/2022

 
These days I always tend to nap,
head nodding beneath my battered football cap.
Long gone are the days when I used to coach a team,
but I still see my lads kicking goals when I dream…

The stadium’s cheering back in days of yore,
ball’s found the net, the crowd yells out score.
We’re down two to one, but don’t give up yet,
follow the game plan and find the back of the net.

The game restarts furious and fast,
it’s the second half and forty-five minutes fly past.
A roar from the fans, our star player’s tripped, takes a fall,
penalty kick, takes his aim, it’s two all.

Wins and losses celebrated both at home and away,
Not premier league, but champion minors back in the day.
We’ve grown old and grey now the lads and I,
but our memories of playing football will never die.

Holding Hands, by Jennifer Duncan

23/3/2022

 
When you waved with your hand curled
I remembered the first time
You held my hand.

Exhausted, hurting from giving birth
I lay with you on my chest and you curled
Your hand against my heart.

I gently put my finger in your clasp
And you held me forever.

Poem Impossible, by Sarah Samson

23/3/2022

 
There’s an amazing poem loose in my head
If I can just get her down on paper
It will knock your socks into Tuesday next week
Woodpeckers will stop pecking to cheer
Babies will sleep through the night
SUVs will be carbon neutral
Football fans will spend hours praising their favorite ref's best calls
If I can only coax her out:
Come get some vitamin D!
See the laser beams of sunshine, my poem!
Black, red, gold, brown, blue
Any ink will do
Come out,
Come out!
I want to show you the world
But most of all I just want to read you.

The Greatest, by John M. Carlson

23/3/2022

 
Everyone says that referee is the greatest!
He gives so much time
to the boys playing football!

They don’t know he has no time
for me, his son
a boy not good at sports.

Missing the Goal, by Sandra James

22/3/2022

 
My divorced friend hated football
but together we took our kids to the big game
she sat in the stands, head buried
in a War & Peace sized romantic tome
oblivious to cheering, and booing
around us
At the end of play I ran with the kids
onto the field
met players, collected autographs
while she finished her book
sighing as she closed the covers on the handsome hero

Who won? she asked, when we returned

Pity she never noticed the hunky referee
who gazed up from the sidelines
smitten

Andrew, We Need You, by Sankar Chatterjee

21/3/2022

 
An invisible pest came to life in a dark cave in Asia.
It moved silently through the universe, attacking humanity.
Billions infected, millions perished, countless children orphaned.
Initially defeated, the global scientists working day and night
Found ways to bring the pest to its knees.
It has been a long two years but our humanity prevailed.
In the spring of 2022, the world began to shine again.


But, the devil had a new plan up his sleeves.
Cloaking in the form of a ruthless human dictator,
He set out to conquer his tiny neighbor.
Rockets and bombs raining down on Mariupol, Lviv, and Kyiv,
While pandemic-fatigued humanity remained motionless.
Now Andrew, the impartial umpire we want you to blow you whistle,
Announcing “Enough is enough; this mayhem now must be over.”

An Umpire’s Lot, by Dee Lorraine

21/3/2022

 
Folks scream rude names
They yell at me
Tell me, “Go home!”
Say I can’t see
When doing my job
No camaraderie
Not a female dog’s son
Football umpire, I be!

The Divorce Referee, by Greg Vander-Haeghen

20/3/2022

 
Don sports a broad smile

Boasting his $100,000 teeth

Dollars amassed

Mediating star football players

And their wives

He is unflappable

Dresses like a ref

Talks the lingo:

“Unsportsmanlike conduct”

“Offsides”

“Illegal procedure”

And his favorite

“Too many players on the field”

That’s where his fees skyrocket

Through the stadium roof

Figuratively speaking

Remembrance, by Ian Fletcher

20/3/2022

 
What happens on life’s journey
To all those fellow travelers
Who pass away, to those near
And dear who have disappeared?
They seem unreachable to us
Trapped as we are behind
The bars of this earthly prison
Seeing only darkness beyond.
Yet, sometimes we are blessed
When they appear to the mind’s eye
In a vision from their heyday
And they are smiling as if to say
“Remember me this way.”

Love, by Mary Wallace

20/3/2022

 
WINNER, SIDERIUS MEMORIAL PRIZE
He's waving
His eyes seek me out as I stand concealed in the crowd
My leaving would destroy him
My freedom would bring him pain

My guilt calls for a decision
Can I live without passion
Trade feverish illicit encounters for this love which feels more friendship
Is there a hierarchy of love

I see devotion in those searching eyes
I cannot cause his pain
I step from the shadows and I wave

You Got This, by Lorraine Murphy

19/3/2022

 
All my strength can’t build a fortress
my arms can’t shield you through this battle
but I’ll protect you with my love
through scoffs and taunts until 3pm.
I am a father’s heartbreak at every schoolyard
coaching my child through cruel untruths
'I'm too fat, too slow, too different.'
I am every father who has counselled since dawn
exhausted and broken from pleas of
'Please Dad, I don’t want to go back'
but I do as every father must
exude encouragement through the bars
You are strong, boy, you got this
then slide my smile until 3pm
when the process starts
all over again.

The Referee, by Marjan Sierhuis

19/3/2022

 
He blows his whistle

the crowd yells their approval

A smile crinkles eyes

Joy, by Mandy Meikle

19/3/2022

 
Joy is warm and yellow.
Joy is small and unassuming,
but given the right conditions,
joy can swell in your heart.
Joy is found in the smell of soil,
in watching moon-clouds,
in the mournful cry of the curlew,
or a corvid cawcophony,
in the wind waves crossing a sea of flowering grass,
in an old, forgotten photo of good friend's smile.
Joy is a master of camouflage.
You have to look out for her.
But she's always there,
quietly waiting to be noticed.
For she is Nature
and Nature is everywhere.

Life of Integrity (Tanka), by David Chek Ling Ngo

19/3/2022

 
It doesn’t matter
whether it's popular, or
if it gives pressure
I'm proud of every truth
I've supported in my life

No matter how
uncomfortable it felt
I just kept growing
I love what I'm doing
and you're beside me in all

The Pitch (A Constanza), by Krystyna Fedosejevs

19/3/2022

 
‘Twas a match for sports hall of fame.
Made possible by one hitter
Able to trick every pitcher.

His points added up perfectly.
The number of runs for home plate.
Batting no one could understate.

Game ended, interviews followed.
He went on signing autographs
For all holding his photographs.

Someone was struck by what she saw.
How skillfully he swung his bat,
With good form; all muscle, no fat.

She admired him with all her heart.
If only he’d be her lover
Instead of her famous father.

Responsibility, by Ed N. White

19/3/2022

 
The man in stripes has made the call.
Fearlessly, he picks up the ball and marches back to its previous place.
Fifteen yards with a serious face. Some boo, some cheer,
Some head to the food court to get more beer.
Another weekend in the NFL, for some it’s happy,
For some, it’s hell.
It all depends on which team does well.
But standing tall above it all
Is the man in stripes who makes the call.

?, by Alex Blaine

19/3/2022

 
Have you received an
impartial decision from an
impartial referee?

Hit back at the zebra's
short-sightedness -
as you could be owed

THOUSANDS!

2022 Andrew Siderius Competition Open to Entries Now

19/3/2022

 
Picture

Home, by Simeon Care

18/3/2022

 
Home is at the end of many pleasant stories,
a promise of contented days and hope.
Through battle-tested nations and forgotten allegories,
a truth beyond a sentimental trope.

Home can be a fragile and a momentary thing,
subject to the wills of man and fate--
something worth protecting whether liberal or right-wing,
a dream so quickly compromised by hate.

Home is both eternal and ephemeral, it’s clear.
When soldiers come and batter down the door,
we pray for those who lose their homes in conflicts far and near,
for home is what unites us all, I’m sure.
<<Previous

    Poetry

    This is the section where fiction prose becomes something else. We still expect the poems to be short, though – sonnets, perhaps, or around that length at the very most.

    Poems submitted should be
    no longer than 160 words
    and contain
    no more than 16 lines.

    100 words remains the approximate target.

    Please submit using the Poetry Submissions Page.


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