“…our (optional) prompt for the day. Today, I challenge you to write a poem that incorporates the vocabulary and imagery of a specific sport or game. Your poem could invoke chess or baseball, hopscotch or canasta, Monopoly or jai alai. The choice is yours!”
Most days life’s a bull ride.
You wake up stiff, tape your
Wrist, elbow, shoulder, knee, ankle,
Pull on your boots, wear lucky shirt, socks
Don protective vest…helmet
Optional…how lucky are your socks?
Climb in the chute
Try to get a firm seat: bull
Standing square, hopefully
Still beneath you—not
Fighting, wanting to leap over the top.
Tie your hand tight in the rope
No chance it’ll come loose
Cost you the ride, qualifying points.
Screw your hat down good
Tuck your chin—pray, take
Quick breath—nod your head so
The gate man knows you’re ready—
“Buck ‘im!”—chute opens.
Stay forward on the bull
Your eyes between his horns, ears—
Don’t get jerked back on your pockets.
Keep your free arm high
Use your core strength, don’t
Clench with your knees.
Spur if you can—more points from the judge;
And show a little flash, style
If your bull’s not too juicy—
Bounding high as the fence
Turning left right, no signal lights
Pitching, lurching back on himself—
If the ride’s going well.
Bottom line: Stay On
Ride till you hear the 8-second buzzer or
Your head hits the dirt
Then get up fast, don’t let him run
Over you—bullfighters risk their own skins
To help you get away clean.
Try to crawl to the fence at least
If you’re needing medical assist—
If not, tip your hat to the blurry crowd
Maybe they’ll cheer, shout your name.
Most days life’s a bull ride
Fans scanty, just you and God.
Either way, if you’ve survived
You get to do it again tomorrow…
Good luck, old Pard ~
© R L Cadillac, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.
Image ~ Pixabay
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