Poetry: Why we got beat

  WHY WE GOT BEAT   by W.A.G. Walker   Acky ad an ankle Gazza ad a groin Clarrie ad a corky Herbie ad a hernia. Harry ad a hangover Pete ad piles Dezzy ad a dose Morrie ad a migraine Charlie ad a crucial. Trev ad the tom tits Albie ad a achilles Con [Read more]

Interstate Hell With the AFL

Background: When the TV rights changed from Channel Seven to Nine  during the previous agreement it resulted in Friday night footy going from an 8.30pm time slot to 11.30pm . This caused immense frustration to viewers north of the Murray. I  expressed my frustration in a poem. INTERSTATE HELL WITH THE AFL (2002) A national [Read more]

Little Voices

  by Vin Maskell   We drank tea in the kitchen on the hill Listening to the players wandering Looking for their football in the fog. The kettle boiled, the whistle blew The steam from the cups Caressed our faces. Below in the white still darkness The players kept calling: Nicknames and coaches’ orders. A [Read more]

Thin white moon

by Haiku Bob     Fraser’s stoop the long curve of the thin white moon             crisp autumn night Pendlebury sticks his little gives             leafless trees Lockyer finds himself loose           rolling zone the crumb gatherer wheels right and bends [Read more]

Round 5 – The Middle Distance

by Haiku Bob       round 5 – the middle distance       Anzac Day defeat staring into the middle distance         cold snap the empty space where our ruckman used to be         swirling breeze Pendlebury splits the pack with a fake         [Read more]

From The Village to Victoria Park

A Villanelle that is an ode to my Father By Phil Dimitriadis From dodging bullets in World War 2, to stepping on broken bottles of Abbott’s Lager. Ah, the relative peace of Turner Street in 1952. While Communists and Royalists searched for prey, The slums of Collingwood seem like heaven. The wounds were still raw, [Read more]

Round 4 haiku: reeling them in

distant thunder Rocca lugs his thighs to the square * * rain soaked shoes while they dry abusing the umps! * * half moon our defence also sliced in half * * between scudding clouds the moon and Pendlebury * * half-time cigarette a long sigh joins the leaden sky * * after heavy rain [Read more]

Rotting Leaves by Haiku Bob – Round 3

40 point turnaround – in good times and bad we are gathered here balmy night Cox effortlessly runs too far