The Game

The Game short poem

Photo by Peter Mooney


If the game were to have what we wanted
All the time, with each impulse, and when
With the waits infinitesimal heartbeats
So you get what you want, with no pain
Without leaping, or jumping, or running
Without straining, or striving, or graft
Without flexing emotional muscles
Just with wishes fulfilled, fore and aft
Life would be a marshmallow confection
Soft and tender and sugary sweet
But our limbs would grow weak without effort
With no quest or tough challenge to meet
We may groan at life’s endless endeavours
At the hurdles and battles to fight
But by stretching for stars and desires
We build power, and muscle and might

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carolplunkett

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I can't remember when I didn't write poems but as I've got older, I find they spill into my head, often at inconvenient times of the morning! I use to write them on my way to work, hence the title of my blog, but now I've given up to go trekking around in a campervan with my husband. Plenty of time to reflect on the world, though I don't claim to understand it any better....
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