This a “concrete” poem – a poem shaped like the thing it’s describing. If it doesn’t look like the picture above, turn your phone on its side or get a larger device (wink wink). Now – gym knickers on, and let’s proceed.
. School sport, Tick tock,
. simply a torture form Tick tock,
. a notch or five above the Oh watch
. norm, the most horrendous the clock,
. cruelty designed specifically When will
. for me, who has no puff & this finish,
. cannot aim – picked last this quest
. in every single game: to pillage
. School sport. pride and
. joy and all
. In half my
. lifetime, I
. expect, as
. this is just
. a wheeze
. to squash
. my will, to
. bring me to my knees;
. for sticks and balls may hurt
. us all, but double games
. will break me.
© Nina Parmenter 2018
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