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Monday, April 19, 2010

Poetry Bus Ticket

I have no idea where the Poetry bus is going this week. Surely there is a theme, but I'm too cancelled and rescheduled and tossed about to remember what it is. I have this instead:

Fragmentary thoughts scratched during the France-England match. We rule the Six Nations.

Wilkinson, on the sideline, looking down, looking sad.
Trinh-duc with the drop, bam, between the eyes!
Foden breaking through
throwing himself against the end zone turf
Flood's eyebrow UP UP
Tyndal a bullet, stopped.
No bleeding on the field! Off you go.
Shaw, rising slowly from the dregs of the ruck

If the soldiers of the Rose could not beat Scotland
how can they hope to triumph in Paris
And yet. They want it.
The rain beats down.
Victory
to those with the most mud on.

The Nines, agile and quick
weasels among bears
Ones and twos, pillars, trees planted at the scrum.
Fourteens bursting forth, tigers to the goal line.
Worsley thrown down, bouncing off the ground
Parra chased
bodies piled in scrum, soaked, steaming.

Hartley warned.
Faces red, unkind words
coaches in the stands, impotent.
Another penalty won by baby-faced Parra.
12 to 7
Mister Owens laying down the law.
Servat's jersey torn from his shoulder
launching the ball, all rise in a wave to take it
battle is rejoined to the strains of the Marseillaise, the crowd boos the halftime whistle

The roar of the second half, crowd shouting, players yelling, the grunt of the fray.
shoes abandoned on the field, knocked off
A breakaway!
rising shouts!
out of bounds
hand to hand trench combat
Poitrenaud saves the ball in the end zone
Tyndal
Kerr tackled but dragging guys with him
tides surge and ebb, blue, then white, crashing surf.
OH! la la la laaaa
sixty-first minute, Wilkinson comes in. An English knight, in for Flutey.
Our most feared opponent, but he cannot hold, cannot bring his side to victory.
His jersey is shining clean. He has not enough mud on him.
France wins!
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(my apologies to Scots readers. That was a fine, fine job vs Ireland, but you will just never best France.)
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Catch tickets to elsewhere here!

Ah. I have just learned that this week's topic is to express the presence of an Infinite Intelligence. And me, I've expressed Rugby instead. Just as well.
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9 comments:

Titus said...

Loved it and laughed, especially at the "mud" refrain.
I'm the only England supporter in my house...

Peter Goulding said...

Love the staccato soundbites building up the atmosphere.
Highly unusual and original

Reya Mellicker said...

I could make a joke about volcano ash cancelling the poetry bus but ... that's just in bad taste, eh?

See you later this summer!

Enchanted Oak said...

C'est la vie. You captured the scrum perfectly. I felt as if I had sat through that game.

Niamh B said...

Great energy in there NanU, liked all the different colours used as well

Pure Fiction said...

This is great - I know nothing about rugby, but it kept me reading - and I love the way you played with the colours - great stuff

Dominic Rivron said...

Like it. Avant-garde poetry about rugby! Is it a first?

Totalfeckineejit said...

Allez les bleus !

Argent said...

I heartily enjoyed this bubbling, exciting sporting occasion. Could this be a new poetry genre in the making?