blurs of white flying by
losers emit a mournful cry
a comeback from when they trail
winners give a triumphant yell
the crack of wood against the ball
two champs playing for it all
its not a bat that they do swing
but a paddle doth glory bring
spins and curves flying over the net
win it all game match and set
for this is the true sport of a king
this is the sport that is called ping............ pong
Vivid imagery... never thought of ping pong this way.... thanks for bringing it to my attention
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I enjoyed your poem...especially the last line. Good.