Humor Poetry posted February 4, 2013 |
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A Ball's Point...
Red Weathered Leather
by closetpoetjester
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
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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 little shits 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 Please understand 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! (C) |
![]() Recognized |
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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