The Elgin Marbles

In the land of kilts and ancient pride,
Where Scotsmen roam with stones beside,
I once believed a tale untold,
Of marble games in days of old.

The Elgin Marbles, so I thought,
Were not in museums finely wrought,
But spheres of glass, a game’s delight,
In Scottish glens and Grecian light.

Beneath the tartan, secret skill,
A marble match on Arthur’s hill,
Bagpipes played a rhythmic tune,
As Scots and Greeks neared high noon.

But alas, my youthful fantasy,
Misled by marble memory,
For Elgin’s name, a lordly dance,
With stones and history left to chance.

So let this tale of marbles be,
A whimsical blend of history,
Where Scotland’s hills and Greece’s shores,
Played games of marbles, forevermore.

Yeah, AI still can’t spell very well when producing images!

Footy on the Telly

In a room adorned with scarves, and screens so bright,
There sits a man, his heart taking flight.
His eyes fixated on the flickering TV’s glow,
In this world of goals and passion, his spirits aglow.

Weekend after weekend, he’s filled with delight,
As the beautiful game unfolds, a wondrous sight.
His friends call him, invite him out to the park,
But he’s found his joy, watching from his own mark.

The thrill of a goal, the moves so divine,
In football’s embrace, he’s found a goldmine.
His cheers of elation, his laughter’s sweet sound,
Echo through the room, like a love that’s profound.

His family’s birthdays and events are all dear,
But watching the game brings him moments sincere.
He’s found a connection, in fans near and far,
In the world of football, beneath every star.

As seasons change and the years roll on by,
He’s discovered a love that will never run dry.
In the world of the beautiful game, he’s found his decree,
To cherish the joy of watching football on TV.

Turning It Off

Oh, the flickering screen, a dismal sight to see,
In days of yore, it held such grand diversity.
But now, alas, there’s naught but mindless drivel there,
No substance, wit, or art, it’s more than I can bear.

Once upon a time, with classics we’d be graced,
With dramas, comedies, and shows well-paced.
Now reality reigns, in all its shallow glee,
A wasteland of banality, it’s clear for all to see.

I long for plots that twist and characters that soar,
For tales that touch the heart and leave us wanting more.
Instead, it’s endless ads and scripted “reality,”
Oh, for the days when TV was our sanctuary.

So, let us mourn the loss of quality and grace,
And hope that someday, we’ll find a better place.
For now, I’ll turn it off and seek my own delight,
In books and conversation, where true treasures take flight.