Poetry about sport

We are approaching rugby union season in those Southern Hemisphere countries that partake in this particular form of sport. The Black Ferns, New Zealand Women’s side, has had remarkable success winning five of the past six World Cups. The male team, the All Blacks, are an ok side too.

I wrote these poems while watching a game of rugby at Sky Stadium (it was called Westpac Stadium at the time). We had cheap seats in the nose bleed section, and there was a guy behind us who basically screamed instructions to both teams all game! From what I recall the Sprinkboks (South Africa) beat the All Blacks that night.

So you are getting two sports themed poems today. #winning

It's only a game
The heave 

a rush 

Bodies pressed against each other 

meaningless passion 


territory gained and lost 

colours fly high, a testament 

to consumerism, corporatisation 

And I am amongst it 

trying to decode meaning 

hidden in the testosterone  

and malice this Friday night.


All the things he said to you, 

those barbed compliments, 

dangled as if you could ever 
win his approval. 

The combinations you think they should play. 

The weaknesses in their side, your side. 

The empty plays 

that are eating you alive. 

And you are here now 

with your flag flying high 

believing that you can shout 
the winning combination  

from the noise bleed section- 

to the losing team on the field 
and to the little boy inside your head. 
Photo by Patrick Case on Pexels.com

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