Home » Poems » Michelle Faulkner » Of Football

Of Football

Football is
Bruised bone of eager drums
and young teeth tasting
the blood of giants in 
this game of gladiators
under the scarlet
flag of fall.

7/31/19

autumndevotionendurancesportsfree verse

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John Watt

August 27, 2020 at 10:31 PM

This game of gladiators... it is a fascinating spectacle, isn't it? The strong, the swift, the smart, the surly, the specialists all moving a ball down a field of grass while putting their bodies and careers on the line every play. Great poem, thanks for the tip!

Freddie Robinson Jr.

October 26, 2019 at 6:39 AM

Very keen observation in this truth poem, Michelle. This is my favorite sport. I have a high threshold for pain tolerance. Thru the prism of this stinging joy, God has taught me to have compassion on those who suffer in pain (physical or emotional.) I really do viscerally relate to this poem on a cerebral level. Love and more love always.

Rhona Mcferran

August 7, 2019 at 2:37 PM

Very aptly described... The first (live) football game I watched had a nasty pile-up where the kid on the bottom had to be taken out by ambulance. :O (Correction, I mean the first-and-last game I ever watched!) It is a brutal sport.