twilight game
the city’s groan
circles the Dome
from wing to wing
we try to make the ball
go forward
Dogs on another fast break
paint peeling
from the rafters
leisurely
Leon spears a pass
to his opponent
getting jumpy
Wellingham crumbs and goals
his own fumble
twilight
our hopes slowly fade
but fade they do
another goal drives a nail through my refusal to accept defeat
late comeback falls short
the colour of death
in the roof
still officially winter
the unmistakable stench
of spring
About rob scott
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.
HB – I reckon that was a significant game. I tipped the Pies would be too strong for the Doggies – wrong again. But put Pendlebury back in and maybe the Pies get close?
Cats v Dogs this week should be a beauty. Pies a chance to knock off the Saints.
No Spring doesn’t have a stench because hope doesn’t smell does it ?
Dips
In the parlance, it was a ‘funny old game’.
Some optimists are saying the pies took their foot off the pedal.
I’m not so sure.
The Dogs ran us off our feet.
And kept running.
And running…
They might go very deep.
I also pondered Pendlebury’s absence…we lacked a conduit.
It was basically a game of chasey.
No, hope doesn’t have an aroma, but it can kill ya.
hb.