Day 20 NatPoWriMo2017

Games…sport. I cringed this morning. Smith’s are not known for their sporting prowess. My sister and I have had conversations about how rules of the game makes a part of our brain freeze. Somehow or other, we have still managed to navigate this world. Although I have no clue what I can use for a featured image today!

Play Up


I was never good at games

The rules numbed my brain

The part preventing own goals

Slipping on autmn wet playing fields

Getting tackled by Charlene Bjueno


The rules of flirtation:

The nod, the feint, the fumble.

Opaque, just as pointless.

Fool that I was, without hesitation

I homed in, disposing of the banal


Which worked out okay –eventually.

Disposing of talk of rules and balls

(except those of your anatomy)

Even without understanding the game

I was not without wherewithal


So why care that I was lousy at darts?

That cricket, golf and tennis were a snore

I was born with arms too short to box

That I would only ever be Olympian in metaphor

I  was fluent in reading the human heart


Which comes without instruction manual

Ignores all the collected works of rule books

The whistle  blown calling  whatever – time or time out

It defies all that gaming gobbledegook

With its definite tendency to play up

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