Short Snooker Poems
Short Snooker Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Snooker by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Snooker by length and keyword.
There was a longshoreman named Joe
in the pub he let the beer flow
when he played pool
he fought the fool
wanting to cash in on his show
My wife told me to be more romantic
And to book a table for Valentines Day
When we arrived at the snooker hall
I can tell you there was all hell to pay
Form:
i nominate green
foul
the referee didn't hear me
the opponent accuses me of the same
he therefore,
can -
no longer -
use my extension
in fact i'm not using it either
i'm off home to
throw cue balls
at
the
moon
The close family was all called in
Four days since hubby to home had been
The snooker hustler played
High stakes for which he stayed
In the door he came, our shock begins
Written: May 13, 2014
Dachshund is a banana skin:
Short like a cigarette butt,
Big eyes like two snooker balls,
Wide ears like the vessel's flags,
Legs interlocked like a letter X,
Long trunk like a train on the track,
All buttock like a kangaroo.
If I should meet it on my way out,
I will retract home and recite a psalm.
My son’s in Dublin, now, for work.
Irish travel – what a perk!
He’ll only be there for a week
But he’s allowed a little peek.
Shooting snooker ‘stead of pool;
Watching rugby played – how cool!
Drinking Guinness in a pub,
Like a local at a club.
He’ll be back the day before
We come knocking at his door
For Turkey Day with what will be
Plain beer and football on T.V.
Colour me green natures favourite colour
Colour me green a golfers dream
Colour me green robin hoods men
Colour me green a snooker players table
Colour me green american money
Colour me green to save my planet
Colour me green and go at the lights
Colour me green to make your garden grow
Colour me green British racing team
Colour you green with envy as you didn't write me :-)
JUDD TRUMP
I don’t think snooker will ever be the same.
Now that Judd Trump is playing the game.
Fast and furious is he.
No time to even make a cup of tea.
Seventeen days ago we had not heard of him.
Tonight we thought he was going to win.
He kept us on the edge of our seat.
Thought he was going to be impossible to beat.
But then John Higgings had it in the bag.
He won the game for his Dad.
There’s a breathless hush in the Crucible,
A racing baize and the black to win,
To miss that red was inexcusable –
His hand was shaking – too much gin ?
The “Hurricane” is blown away,
We will not see his like today,
But Hendry, Higgins, Doherty
Williams, Selby, Ding Junhui
Are hoping for that one-four-seven,
The perfect snooker, shot from heaven.
The prize at stake is filthy lucre;
To fans this is the World of Snooker,
A game that’s played in clubs and halls –
But for some, a load of balls !
Hendry says that Ronnie,
The best to pick up a cue.
He's never seen me play
So that might not be true.
I had a break of twenty
When I was just a lad,
I'm getting on for sixty now
So a forty ain't so bad.
So come on then O'Sullivan
I challenge you to play,
I will give you a game for twenty quid
And you can pick the day.
I know you are a great player,
I watch you all the time.
You can make that cue ball sing
But I can make it rhyme.
A Strand (1071)
Sponsored by
Brian strand