And They Play (Poem)

Introduction : What happens to the Player who misses an opportunity ? Even though he is the cream of the soccer world ; the Manager calls him back , such is the commitment required ; the will to bounce back against the odds............



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Is no secret , that men play rough.

March out they , albeit not literally; hand in hand.

Under the flood - lights , they all look tough.

Till the anthem last , in a huddle they band.

Starts off , in the center,

heels come together in tandem,

as used are frequently , the words of 4-letter,

In overflowing vigour initially ; the ball flies at random.

From beneath the grass , kicked up is the sand.

When he missed a hit ; sure to land,

From the bunk , waves the manager ; his magic wand,

and off he goes , with a grunt ,

able not , to face his fellow's brunt.

---------------------------------------------R.Ajay.Kumar

 

[Swaswati Borpuzari]

In the heart of the village, where the old oak tree stands tall, Children gather, their laughter like a melody, a call. Beneath the sprawling branches, where the shadows dance and play, They build their worlds with sticks and stones, in the light of the day.

"And They Play" is more than just a poem; it's a testament to the innocence and joy of childhood. Each stanza captures a moment, a snapshot of life where worries are as light as the clouds drifting by. The children, with their boundless energy and creativity, transform the simplest of things into grand adventures. A discarded cardboard box becomes a spaceship, soaring through galaxies unknown. A patch of dirt and a few leaves turn into a feast, fit for kings and queens.

The poem speaks of a time when the world is vast and full of wonder, where every leaf and pebble holds a story. It’s a reminder of the magic that lies in the everyday, a magic that adults often forget in the hustle and bustle of life. The children, unaware of the complexities that await them, live in the moment, their hearts and minds free from the burdens of the future.

As the sun sets, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the children reluctantly pack away their treasures, their faces flushed with the thrill of the day. They promise to return, to continue their games, to keep the spirit of play alive. And in the quiet of the evening, as the village settles into sleep, the old oak tree stands guard, a silent witness to the simple, profound beauty of childhood.