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The Web Poetry Corner - Stephan Hovell - Hard Yards

Hard Yards

by

Stephan Hovell

A test of ones fatigue,the passion spent on sport,beat the man,score the point,and call it rugby league. A game of feet and inches,players with dues to pay,stand your ground,they`re comeing your way,now we`ll see who flinches. Fit bodies so physically hardened,no one plays catch up today,the prop punches a hole,busting defence,ten pins apart,won`t wait or beg to be pardoned. Trust your big second rower,chase the kick down town,fight for breath,there`s no quarter given,after eighty their score`s to be lower. The team strip is proud attire,clean heels you`re hopeing to show,break the game,be the difference,a legend before you retire. Ever ready for the dream ball passed,clean boots firmly laced,the center swerves,a short off load,fend or you`ll be grassed. The referees whistle is power,stand off barks the next move,contravene rules,proffessional foul,head for the early shower. The opposition is ready and clever,take a hard yard is the plan,you hit him so hard,he forgets!
who he is,remembering you forever.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at The Moon
by: Del Isherwood
from: Citronelle, AL, US

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