Paul Butters

Don Newton - Poem by Paul Butters

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

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.

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Topic(s) of this poem: memoriam, sport

Poet's Notes about The Poem

Initially for Don's retirement.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, December 5, 2009

Poem Edited: Saturday, September 2, 2017

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