there were eight or ten of them little boys,
it was difficult to count them,
for they kept swinging madly on their roller skates
on the court hardly the size of a basketball court,
sweeping along in a bunch after the ball
with their sticks poised and stretching out tense for the strike, dispersing
and twisting in wild patterns,
going after the ball yet again,
straining forward for speed,
navigating smoothly,
dangerously,
sticks clacking, shoulders pushing,
shooting off the course and with manoeuvres
of the feet and the knees and the hips and the flailing hands
recovering balance,
laughing,
now from all corners converging on the far goal post
to attack and defend,
the goalkeeper strung bristling
as a cat confronting an attacking pack,
and as the whole court touched a beat to the imploding moment,
there was this lady on the sidelines,
the shy young beauty in satin white,
sonny boy's mamma dear,
shouting: shoot, sonny, shoot, shoot.
A contest entry
- Be Real by Dalaney.
800 points, ended August 25, 2008, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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A game for the young! Nice action, the excitement of the players and the woman watching are evident - this appears to be one breathless sentence.
Best of luck!
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How else to describe the breathless excitement of the action at a ground near my home, where they train little children in roller-skating hokey!
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Great imagery. Well done.
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