National Poetry Day 2011

by duncanr

It’s National Poetry Day in UK (see – )

And the theme is ‘Games’

Any Madhatters fancy penning a wee poem on a ‘sporty’ theme?

How about if I give you a start –

There was a young lady from . . .


In 2012 in London Town . . .

16 Comments to “National Poetry Day 2011”

  1. In acknowegement of “National Poetry Day,”I have deposited something (figure of speech) in FKF.

    I haav also ab&andonned any attemt at communicashon, knowind that we can ntalk xith one another on a higher lecel.

    love . ?. .


  2. To give you, dear readers, an example of the high standard of poetry we are looking for here at MadHatters, here’s one wot I rote –

    In 2012, in London Town
    A bunch of athletes gathered round
    Their lofty goal should truth be told
    To see which one would win the Gold


  3. or this one –

    A lady weightlifter from Russia
    Had a snatch that was truly a wonder
    Her pull was clean, her jerk supreme
    But her beard meant no man would touch her


  4. I’ve already written my poem, in April.
    It was inspired by Peter Reynolds releasing his novel ‘London Games’:

    See, I even stole the title! Unfortunately, there is no emphasis (all the words addressed to Dave are in italics) as WordPress doesn’t allow it (grr!).

    The London Games

    There’s games in London now being played
    By “Call me Dave” – a sad parade
    Of same old lies and tabloid crap.
    Embarrassed colleagues fear mishap
    When he is challenged by the man:
    For Mr Reynolds surely can
    Work up the issue in the news
    And ease our prohibition blues.

    “Please call me, Dave” says Mr R
    “I’d like to talk about how far
    The world has come in seeing sense
    As sanity breaks through the fence”.
    But still you play that game we knew
    When, lost and scared, without a clue
    We knelt, and shook, and clasped our hands
    And buried our heads in the sand.

    Monopoly’s a London game
    Where Dave’s rich friends have staked a claim.
    They want their slice of pie and more –
    The key to ev’ry fucking door.
    The ones without, they’ll kick right down
    Around the country ev’ry town
    Where some poor bastard grows his weed –
    Alternative to pharma greed.

    Another one’s Duplicity
    (It might involve Complicity…)
    It’s where the player tries to hide
    An inconvenient truth inside
    A lie so big it makes you wince.
    Who are you hoping to convince?
    The evidence is all around –
    Why keep the issue underground?

    I feel you favour good old Scrabble –
    Played at Eton (not by rabble!)
    Mix those letters into words
    Twist the meanings, more absurd!
    Turn a saint into a sinner –
    Double word score – there’s a winner!
    ILLEGAL’s made from LIE and GALL
    With words like those you’ll beat them all!

    This world’s a gamer’s Neverland
    Pick up your cards, don’t show your hand
    The game you play could be a crime
    With decent people doing time.
    We normal folks all tell you Dave
    Get off our backs – we’re not your slave
    It’s people’s lives, not games of Ludo
    But you just haven’t got a Clue-do…..

    ©PJMcNeill April 2011


  5. This is not brilliant, rather late in the evening here but felt inspired y your post so knocked this up in a bout five minutes.
    May revise it tomorrow when brain functioning better.


    On a warm summer’s day,
    whites flapping in the breeze,
    they take to the field,
    for a game
    not of chance or luck
    but of skill and mastery,
    bat in hand, before the wicket,
    in for a hundred
    or out for a duck,
    you have to nimble
    of hands and feet
    to play the wonderful
    English game of cricket.


  6. @ Searching for the Light

    I really enjoyed your little poem, not least because it was written in the same spirit as the game it describes.



  7. There was a young lady got caught,
    While playing her favourite sport,
    Was it ‘in’ or ‘out’?
    The ref had no doubt,
    It just wasn’t as long as she thought.


  8. Wherever there’s a game we play for fun
    There stands a broker glib and glum,
    Hands in pockets, (not his, mind you)
    With insurers lining up to receive their due,
    The city council’s not far behind
    With water rates and parking fines,
    But chin up, lad, not all is lost
    We needn’t count the awful cost
    There’s still a way we can be free
    Just stay at home and watch it on TV


  9. “There was a young lady from Dagenham

    who fell madly in love with a Cart horse

    It was a lovely day for a picnic

    so we went for a swim in the river”

    . . . that truly came from the heart of my bottom


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