Zillion supporters screaming, a loud buzz,
Yearning to return home cheered by victory.
Xerox machines preparing the next day’s papers; Max
Wit for the shame or fame of a member of the show.
Violent vitriol from commentators like engine rev
Unites with supporters’ glee at likes of Eto’o or Kanu
To spur skill at each minute to get even one stunning stunt
Spirits soar, sink, so it is, for here serenity bores.
Roulette, lifté, counter-attack by one party raising the roar.
Quick kick! Oh no! Replay?! Why not? That must join the FAQ
Pray the corner kick slays the opponent; oh that header was sharp!
Oh he missed that goal again! No replay?! Hell no!
No! Now he’s channeled that ball too late for the man,
May the coach coach correctly and call him to quit the team!
Leave the pitch you little loss-bringing imp! LOL!
Khaki-wearing “messer” I can even get your reek!
Just as our jests are about to milk out laughs, I couldn’t find a word to end with “J”.
Instead I had a whole lot of them J-starting words. So I
Hunched to think, but then looked up at the BROOHAH:
GOAL GOAL!! Oops the scorer is the "Mr. Bug"!
Fooled? No, I’m still for him leaving,( Scoring oaf!)
Even though this elation, release and joy, came from his device!
Defensive tactics, offensive backing up, I can almost get mad
‘Cos the best defense is attack Doc!
Bye losers, we took this easy. Supporters bob
Away, and the whole stadium sleeps in the starlight bathed by mother Luna.
We are not perfect by no means at all,
some are too skinny, some are too tall,
I was always the tallest in my class,
until High school, then I found my match.
5' 7'' kinda tall for a girl,
then I decided, I wanted to twirl,
The football players always kidded with me,
but I knew they were flirting, they really liked me.
My hair was long, and blonde as can be,
they told me not past the shoulders, little Crissy.
I had to pile it up, but it never stayed,
stringy haired twirler, out on the stage.
Now , I think back to those football games,
remembering those memories, of my High School
Winning prospect nears
Sunday football cheers
Men folk gather ‘round
Women, also found.
All are TV bound.
Who gets the ball?
Heads wins the call.
The coin toss…
No team scoffs.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 24, 2010
Poetic form: Dimished Hexiverse
Dude, guess what?
Yesterday, I got to go through my dad’s dealership
and pick out a sweet ride for my 16th birthday!
It’s a convertible, dude
It’s a hot rod, dude
It’s red, dude
It’s a hot, hot rod
And it’s got chrome-covered wheels!
Wait until the guys get a load of this!
Dude, this weekend, wanna go get drunk?
Ah! Dude! I totally saw my wellness teacher
at the Rush yesterday! She was
benching more than half the football team!
I could totally take her though!
I’m not going to let a woman tell me what to do!
Dude, I better retake the ACT this Saturday
I totally need a 16 to play on the football team
at Northwestern Kentucky State Community College!
Remind me not to drink too much after the game!
And we’re totally gonna smoke Blount County! Huh! Huh! Huh!
Dude, this guy totally looked at me funny
in the bathroom between classes! Man, we gave him the
hugest swirly! You shoulda been there!
Dude, I got practice after school today
but afterwards, you wanna go roll that queer in Bio class?
All passions and emotions combine into one synergy
country demands patriotism but our club? So much energy
celebrations and glory allow constant piracy
and a wonderful victory can never have its privacy
paying for tickets to enjoy a win is the basic
after the maximum points collected, comes next is the music.
Pitch soldiers fight with zeal so cosmic,
giving pure entertainment and fun really orgasmic
the mood in every rivalry comes with a cost,
defeat in a derby feels like holocaust.
Raising our emblems and banners for all to see
even when disgraced, the united pride will never flee.
Always kissing the badge, win or lose,
insult our integrity and heavily pay the dues.