The Hollow Crowd

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Water into wine
Fishes and loaves
Oh these ragged miracles
Pass into echoes and shadows
Shattered emblems of modernity
No burning Monet will sieze
Upon the ambition and colours of your
Claim the pitch football god
Rattle the terrace with your beauty
Play the Game
Because no benediction slithers out from
Beneath the contours of your body
Your disciples stand patiently
At the edge of this green ocean
Patiently waiting for their King to lose his crown.


Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-hollow-crowd/