An Ode to No Talent

So, "rhyming" may not be a word you'd normally enter in T9 (see previous entry). It makes a little more sense when you know that this coming Weds-Fri, the Health Initiatives for the Private Sector (HIPS) team is heading to the Jinja Nile Resort for our work planning/team building retreat. When I found out there'd be a talent show on the first night, I reacted the way any rational human being would: with panic. You see, I don't actually have any talents. I started begging friends to bestow a talent upon me. While that didn't happen, Sean did have the brilliant idea to write a poem about how I don't have any talents. So here, in its 19 stanza glory, is a sneak peak at, "An Ode to No Talent."

When I saw the email
For the HIPS retreat
My first thought was, "Fun!"
Jinja Nile can't be beat

But then I saw the part about
Singing, dancing, acting
And said there's no way I can go
For talents I am lacking

You'll say ,"Everyone is talented,
You're just being shy"
Not me, I can assure you
No matter how hard that I try

I played the violin
From age eight to age fifteen
Went to lessons and the concerts
But never practiced in between

The instructor (the conductor?)
Sat me first chair once or twice
I thought it quite an honor
But he was only being nice

And singing, yee gads, trust me folks
You don't want to hear
The sound of off-key screeching
Within 10k's of your ear

For sport I tried out soccer
But I hated to play keeper
All those people running at me
Way too stressful - maybe sweeper?

But I wasn't very fast
And attack was not my style
I preferred to hang out on the swings
Check the score once in awhile

There were a couple summers
Spent out on the softball field
But compared to base hits or home runs
My strike outs had a higher yield

One year I decided on
Gymnastics as my course
But I knew that one was over
When I ran into the horse

I tried out the uneven bars
I tried the balance beam
Turns out they're a lot harder
Than the Olympics make it seem

A cartwheel was the hardest move
In my whole floor routine
No surprise then, when I later learned
They let all kids on the team

My golf swing has resulted in
Balls soaring off...behind me
Tennis? Can't serve, cannot return
Hand me a pool cue and...blimey

I did, in fact, play volleyball
All the way to senior year
And at the end won an award
Not for skill but my team cheer

I couldn't really spike
And I couldn't really dig
But when we got an ace or kill
I'd be the first to do a jig

It wasn't, though, a pretty dance
Despite those years I trained
All those nights in tap and jazz
So much money down the drain

The recital part I liked a lot
Though the costumes made me itch
I thought the layers of mascara
Made me look just like a witch

I'd love to say I'm fluent
In Luganda or in French
But "Wangi?" and "Bonjour"
Are as good as it gets

So my friends, this is to say
I stand before you talentless
Maybe in another life
I'll juggle or play chess