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Hakikur Rahman Jan 2021
Inside twenty-two yards
Twenty-two players
The game is very exciting
It's been around the whole day.

Sometimes in white ball
Sometimes this game is going to be on red ball
It's not a play of force
They say that they only need intellectualism.

Test, one-day, T-Twenty
These three ways can be played in this game
Types of variations in over
Play this game on the field.

If the ball touches the fence touching the ground
Then there are fours
And if the ball does not touch the boundary liner
It's six, and how nice it is to see.

Let's play around the whole world
Let's play the game of bat and ball
Let's stay throughout the year
In all the playgrounds.
Deepali Dec 2020
Where only fields of mud i ever got to play in 90's,
the clock started ticking to the next phase;
20th Century-
Moving around,
i was spinning on the new MARIGO-ROUND
and when i jumped out i saw the crowd;
comming closer,
rushing on the same swing i was hunged on,
saw them spiral on the same game i was over from.
"NOW"
Iam spinning on the new dial of the century's game,
seeing everybody is going insane in doing everything to win their lane.
Its good afterall,
Its the 21st century and iam not licking it at all.
lets see what happen ahead in the next year 2021.
LOVE PEACE LIFE.
Ashlyn Rimsky Dec 2020
When I say I like to play games,
I mean I like monopoly.
I mean I like rolling the dice,
Playing the odds and hoping
To land on something lucky.

When I get lucky
I land on free parking,
Like the kind on the street
Outside of your apartment.

I celebrate as I am showered
In more kisses than I can count.
I shove them down my throat
To negotiate with later.

As time passes we will
Trade them back and forth
Until every inch of space
Between me and you is occupied.

For a while we will be equal.
We will play nice. Pay small tolls.
Taking only what we are giving,
Trading for mutual benefit,

Growing from one another.
Building houses and visiting
One another's properties.
Not worrying about landing
On one space or another.

Slowly grassy fields turn
To sprawling developments.
Places that some people aim to be,
Make a family, one, two, three.

But we are not the type to, baby.
We will not stop for a white picket fence.
We have personal goals, for personal developments.
We are career driven people.

In the name of monopoly,
We will circle the board until we are dizzy,
Erecting concrete skyscapers one layer at a time,
Building walls stacked on walls
That scream to the sky

"Something was built here."

Something hard. Something heavy.
Something immovable. A concrete block
Concealing a once-grassy field.

I went to visit you there.
I found a ticket on my dash board.
I guess thats why you said you're fine,
But I am not.

These walls cost me a toll that I cannot pay.
I heard the only way to knock them down
Is if one of us loses.

Good thing "It's just a bored game."
Who should I blame?
When I think, when I write
Should I start with the name?
In my heart I am hurt
And the guilty are the same
Yet, everyone is innocent
They are friends as they claim
Then who should I blame?!

When you act that you love
And to win is your aim
It's a shame! It's a shame!
I'm a human not a game
I was dumb, I was fool with an F
I believe, I forgive
I'm the one to blame.
I'm the one to blame.
Susan N Aassahde Nov 2020
for a dice
a turn of a dame
on the ramble
دema flutter Nov 2020
I can't seem
to find the thing
to satiate a need
in me that is yet
to be met,

it's the type of hunger
food can't reduce,

it's the type of pain
that holds unrequited love
for you,

it's like a memory you
want to store in your mind
of a moment that didn't occur,

it's like a fractured ground
waiting for the rain to come
down so flowers can grow
from within the cracks,

it's like love that you give
but never receive back fully,

it's like cold weather and short day time
that beg for some white,
yet it never snows,

it's like not being able
to find the name of the song
whose melody is stuck in your head,

it's like a battle that you lose
before you even get to play.
KG Nov 2020
Easy will I give blood to thee
My love of anger simmering.

Tough mutts and breezy gates shut up while I'm walking up the paved path to heaven.
My shadows carve depictions of their home across it's border, until the time that obliteration comes preceding daylight.
Presently, the senses tell stories of alleyways, bending, screaming, dark, and hollow niches where cells holding cretins feeding on easy cons, closely eyeing the greasy pawns that wobble across rotting paper, voodoo art a secret guarded closely hidden in the hole a beating heart long ago vacated. Robbing rich snobbish ****** their childrens life of ignorance concerning newfound addictions.
You know the type.
You know that I know you too, and how you prefer to shape the ghastly forms these predators take, turn them into your thralls discarded soon after rehearsing the parts of your play, writtin precisely to incite your own addiction to probability gamble gaming intuition. trashing skits naturally reactive to exhibited patterns laughing mad at the victms thrashing quiver, stashing films of the accidents in your pack to gift the sadistic mastiffs  attack and ravage and tear and
Sadness.
The fictitious movies play out onto the skyscape of this mind we share, and attempt to accept the last thing you truly fear.
Poetic Eagle Nov 2020
I was chasing the game
When l was meant to be playing
Random thoughts
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