Don Newton Poem by Paul Butters

Don Newton



When Rome fell down, Don Newton with his flashing blade
Took over.
He marched the corridors of Table Tennis power
For more than fifty years.
And graced a multitude of committees with his
Presence.

As Mister NALGO, Don constructed
A glorious empire
Of countless teams
At many a venue:
Down Pasture Street, in Weelsby, Yarra, Knoll,
Electric Club,
Saint James,
To name a few.

Amassing titles and cups
From every division
As far as I know.
A roll of honour too long to recall,
Now stretching to the horizon.

No fancy sponge, reversed rubber,
Or long pimples for our Don.
Give him a Barna, any plain spongeless pimpled bat,
To flash across the table.
A pint of mild,
Or game of chess
Will always go down well.

This table tennis granddad knows the score,
And takes his leisure now,
Contented as
The sun goes down.

© PB in Yorkshire,5th December,2009 at 15.30.

Saturday, December 5, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: memoriam,sport
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Initially for Don's retirement.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
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Paul Butters

Paul Butters

Leeds, West Yorkshire.
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