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Surprising Pickleball Poem

I asked AI to come up with a pickleball poem. You could swear that the AI engine has actually played our favorite game:

In the sunlit courts where friendships gleam,
A sport emerges, a pickleball dream.
Paddles in hand, with a rhythmic hum,
A game begins, the battle has come.

On a striped surface, the lines define,
The boundaries of a contest, so divine.
A wiffle ball bounces, agile and light,
In the world of pickle, where passions ignite.

The court alive with laughter and cheer,
As players dance, with strategy clear.
A fusion of tennis, badminton’s grace,
Pickleball swirls in a vibrant embrace.

With paddles slicing through the air,
A symphony of skill, beyond compare.
Quick reflexes, nimble feet,
A dance on the court, a rhythmic beat.

The pickleball whispers, a friendly sound,
Echoing rallies, back and forth bound.
A game for all, both young and old,
Where tales of triumph and sportsmanship unfold.

In the kitchen, the non-volley zone,
Strategic moves, a player’s throne.
Drop shots delicate, dinks that inspire,
In pickleball’s world, where passions transpire.

From baseline battles to the kitchen clash,
A sport that sparks a communal bash.
In the heart of rallies, friendships bloom,
Pickleball, a joyous, spirited plume.

So, let the pickleball anthem rise,
Underneath the clear, open skies.
A game that binds, with a vibrant call,
Oh, pickleball, a sport for all!

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