#1
they called it "whipper snapper"
a game of brute strength played at the edge of the black top.
lanky white boys dressed in oversized champion shorts pressing
their fists to one another on gray august days.
a bleacher full of girls uninterested rest
in drab skirts onlooking.

the first time i played i remember going home missing a knuckle.
somehow had gotten wedged beneath my fist after my loss.
i spent the afternoon with an ice pack and plastic bottle of kool aid
living youth.

on days as similar
i find myself dreaming of it now.
the game with our calloused and wrinkled hands.
mothers now on wet aluminum watching
unamused.
men shirtless and obtuse throwing punches
and searching for fists.
Last edited by pixiesfanyo at Nov 17, 2008,
#2
they called it "whipper snapper"
a game of brute strength played at the edge of the black top.
lanky white boys dressed in oversized champion shorts pressing
their fists to one another on gray august days.
a bleacher full of girls uninterested rest
in drab skirts onlooking.

my only possible critique was the ordering of "girls" and "uninterested" towards the end there, I thought those should be flipped around. liked the image of white boys on a black top. this was very effective, brought me right back to my childhood.

the first time i played i remember going home missing a knuckle.
somehow had gotten wedged beneath my fist after my loss.
i spent the afternoon with an ice pack and plastic bottle of kool aid
living youth.

the wording feels slightly off in the second line there. not sure if I like "living youth", as I'm already living youth following through this here poem. you've again got me nostalgic here, so good work.

on days as similar
i find myself dreaming of it now.
the game with our calloused and wrinkled hands.
mothers now on wet aluminum watching
unamused.
men shirtless and obtuse throwing punches
and searching for fists.

"days as similar" was awesome! the idea that the days themselves haven't changed, though you only dream of it at this point. I thought it was an excellent done contrast expressed beautifully in only a few words. great ending here, comes full circle really well. I haven't read much from you lately but I really enjoy what your writing has developed into. I love this.
#4
just a couple of little things. I think the end of stanza one would be better if it was more like:
"a bleacher full of girls, uninterested,
rest in drab skirts onlooking"
that just helps make it easier to read, especially by putting "rest" down onto the next line.

And also, I'm sure you're missing a word or two in sentence two of stanza two. Shouldn't it be "somehow IT had gotten wedged beneath my fist after my loss"?

Also, I don't like "after my loss" maybe just get rid of it?

Well, that's my two cents worth. Hopefully i said something vaguely useful and didn't just look stupid