Wimbledon 2009

As they lick
Their strawberries,
In the waning sun,
And watch
Infinity,
Come and go.
A game's not lost
Till it's won.
In or out,
Out or in?
Necks,
Sporting
Hendrix wigs,
As only
Eccentric Brits do.
Heads darting
Back and forth
Till break point.
Gasps and cheers
Flood the ground.
"Deuce!"
Too dark to play on,
"Out!"
And he punches the air
With a jubilant fist,
Holding pride and glee.
Shrieks at "Fifteen, all!"
Roars of victory
At game end.
A game's not lost
Till it's won.



Poetry by Esti D-G
Read 818 times
Written on 2009-07-07 at 00:27

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Phill
I was considering writing something about Andy's disappointing loss! I felt so bad for him and Pete after such a close lost. Andy dropped serve once and it lost him the title, that's as rough as it gets.

Anyways, you do a great job of getting at the sport and I rather enjoyed reading your piece.


*an avid tennis player/fan*

Phil :D
2009-07-12


NicholasG
This takes me back to my youth. Both my parents were avid tennis fans. To me, if Wimbledon and Rod Laver were on the TV, strawberries were ripe and juicy.
Thank you for the memory Esti,
Nick
2009-07-07


Rob Graber
This reminds me of that marvelous number in "My Fair Lady"--I think it's something like "Ascot Opening Day." After a few-years' bout of Francophilia, I find myself in danger of Anglophilia...
Enjoyed!
2009-07-07