August 13, 2006

September Poem Of The Month

Pointless In Yorkshire

So here we go again: initial hope
Becomes despair in better stadiums
Against name teams who’ve faded and fallen
From higher flights than us, yet more old rope
For which I’ve paid new hard-earned cash, old dope
That has me driving endless hours for some
Receding goal that never seems to come
To seasoned losers, favourites who can’t cope.

And though I know by Tuesday I’ll be thinking
“At home we’ve won all of our games so far
(Even if it’s just one) and taken leads
In games away, not had the rub of the green,
It’s got to turn –” well, maybe, but it’s wearing
Thin as the air on a dead wishing star.

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