Grand final day
every seat taken
on the couch
clouds black and blue
the crunch of bodies
to kill the ball
no goals…
wild applause greets
a smother
shots for goal
sprayed far and wide
like Goddard’s nose
all day the rain Ablett not falling
last quarter
the big men
begin to sway
a gap opens up
in the clouds
Scarlett’s toe-poke
as a team
the losers drop
to their knees
September dusk
a thin mist covers
Riewoldt’s eyes
a shard of light
on every blade –
rain mixes with tears
Rob Scott (aka Haiku Bob) is a peripatetic haiku poet who calls Victoria Park home. He writes haiku in between teaching whisky and drinking English, or something like that.
Beautiful stuff, Rob.
HB,
Gotta love the toe-poke.
HB – someone has to lose I suppose. Very interested to get the views of those not emotionally involved in the game.
for some curious reason Dips, I tend to gravitate towards the losers…
I don’t think I’ve seen more tears shed after a game than this one though.
thanks Gigs
and yes, Pete, i think the toe-poke is back!