One day around Christmas the guys were sitting around talking about football and their fantasy football teams. Since I don’t belong in that world, I wrote a poem while they were talking, because that’s what I do.
Football.
Pigskin
Helmets crunching
Bodies colliding
Crowds yelling
Replays and chatter
Run, grunt, pass, play,
Touchdown!
Or not.
And then I drew a flat football. I have regrets.

I wrote a flat blog post. I have regrets which may or may not result in deleting in the morning.
I think that was a fine poem, and accurate.
Likewise, the football. Really, not so flat; the lines on the paper
were perhaps the issue and not your artistry.
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Poem.
Poetry.
Words crunching.
Couplets colliding.
Polite clapping.
Ogden Nash.
Iambic pentameter.
Free Verse!
Or not.
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Ha ha! That is flat out brilliant! You missed your calling.
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that poem does a good job of summing up football!! Gene and our boys and a couple sons in law had a fantasy football thing going for several years. It eventually fell apart when the babies arrived for so many of them. Barbie
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