Leave a comment on verse 1 0
Four floodlights beaming in a moonlit sky,
With a singing, chanting crowd
(That is divided in its loyalty.
There is no homogeneity,
Away fans welcome,
Cheap and with a view.)
Enmity on the pitch helps the sound
Swell, with a consequent movement of police
And with a consequent reassertion of peace,
Until a red card is waved
And a twice-taken penalty saved.
To this perdition,
Atmosphere has to be,
By dint of necessity,
So that you feel sick
With the tension
Of this end to end struggle,
(Best described as “TITANIC”).
How slowly the clock ticks
Its way to that numb feeling of desolation –
Four minutes of stoppage time!
One nil up and down to ten men,
You cannot go through this again,
Four minutes means years off your life,
And de rerum natura,
Sic transit Gloria,
All this is ephemeral,
Not real and essential.
But it doesn’t seem that way
In the all enveloping moment of meaning today:
Defeat will cut you to the quick.
YOU COULD CUT THE AIR WITH A KNIFE.
“You can always do that, no fear,
When there is atmosphere,”
Said A WAG IN THE CROWD,
“Or though it could be a metaphor”
Joked another wag for A LARF,
Clad in an opposing scarf,
Oh how the crowd laughed and chaffed.
“I’LL EAT MY HAT”,
He says, “If the UNDERDOG wins”;
Top dogs lose,
Consumption of hat ensues:
The crowd grins.
Rivals then share a beer,
In an UNSPOILED PUB,
That has ATMOSPHERE.
0 Comments on the whole Poem
Create an account to leave a comment on the whole Poem
0 Comments on verse 1
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 1