Figo’s Face
¶ 1
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
During every match that Portugal played
Figo’s face was always the same
Frustrated, moody and forever dismayed
For every second of the game.
¶ 2
Leave a comment on verse 2 0
No matter if creating wondrous magic
Or making an inch-perfect pass
His expression always looked so tragic
The adult in a childish farce.
¶ 3
Leave a comment on verse 3 0
Everytime he was tackled
Or a shot of his went awry
His talent was painfully shackled
And the game would pass him by.
¶ 4
Leave a comment on verse 4 0
Each time the Portugese scored
Fans would explode in passion
Yet Figo looked unmoved and bored
Not following the popular fashion.
¶ 5
Leave a comment on verse 5 0
When he saw that he was subbed
Perfectly off the pitch he trudged
His stony stare shows it rubbed
That emotion would not be budged.
¶ 6
Leave a comment on verse 6 0
Figo sang the anthem fiercely and loud
Still with his hypnotic glare
Captaining the country he must have been proud
A responsibility he could bear.
¶ 7
Leave a comment on verse 7 0
For Portugal it ended in tears
Beaten by a Greek team on song
But Figo’s mood predicted the fears
As if he knew what would happen all along.
¶ 8
Leave a comment on verse 8 0
Now each exhausting, draining game is done
In a tournament where results were strange
Winning or losing treated as one
Figo’s face did not change.
Comments
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
0 Comments on verse 2
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 2
0 Comments on verse 3
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 3
0 Comments on verse 4
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 4
0 Comments on verse 5
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 5
0 Comments on verse 6
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 6
0 Comments on verse 7
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 7
0 Comments on verse 8
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 8