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| People of Chilmark, Thomas Hart Benton, 1920 |
Drop the Ball
I can tie my laces and look the part.
I can admire their grace and watch the art.
Reach deep inside with dogged drive,
and while they glide and run and thrive...
winded, I inspect the ball in my hand.
Does it get thrown, or rolled, or hit with a stick?
And where was I going with it anyway?
I drop the ball.
And head back to the bench
where I belong.
This is a Magpie Tale. Please go here to check out other tales based on the image above.
Great poem. I know the feeling... "Why did I walk into this room again?"... "What was I going to do with this peice of paper in my hand?" :o)
ReplyDeleteYou bench-warmer you ... your poem is fun!
ReplyDeletePractise makes perfect..try again, although the poem is so fine!!
ReplyDeleteIt was always thus with me in school in the sports division...sadly! love the poem!
ReplyDeleteSo much happening here. I like it.
ReplyDeleteYou definitely don't belong on the porch!
ReplyDeleteI love this - and can relate completely!
ReplyDeleteWe all lose the plot occasionally :)
ReplyDeleteLet me just say, while I really like the poem, I love Thomas Hart Benton's art.
ReplyDeleteyou're no poser
ReplyDeleteI can definitely relate! Great poem!
ReplyDeletecute
ReplyDeleteBoy, can I identify with this. How many times I've dropped the ball or felt like I did.
ReplyDeleteLove this - I often lose the plot.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]