"Seven bums and fourteen legs,
a brazen ecstasy which begs
the question some of us are asking -
is Peter Goulding multi-tasking?"

Martin Parker, Editor, Lighten Up Online

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

World Cup 2010 - Day 5

New Zealand 1 Slovakia 1 (Group F)

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away,
A little boy dressed all in white came with his ball to play.
The other boys all laughed at him and mocked his feeble frame
And told him he was much too small to join in with their game.
The little boy said nothing as he took his rightful place,
A look of grim defiance etched upon his little face.
A large crowd came to jeer at him and watch him fall asunder
And sure enough eventually he made a dreadful blunder.
The floodgates all will open, people heard the experts say
(They’re fairly pessimistic in that land far, far away)
But no, the little boy in white leapt back into the fray
Gritted teeth and rolled his sleeves as seconds ticked away.
And just before the whistle blew, he got his just reward
A cross from deep! A header! And the little boy had scored.
So do not listen, boys and girls, when others say to you
That fairy tales don’t happen and your dreams cannot come true.




Ivory Coast 0 Portugal 0 (Group G)

Will everything be blamed upon the ball?
When free kicks do not circumvent the wall?
When dour, defensive teams set out their stall?
When midfield battlers square up for a brawl?
When wingers go to cross the ball and fall?
When Deco and Ronaldo don’t enthral?
When Cote d’Ivoire don’t have the wherewithal?
When great defenders end up feeling small?
When top v bottom gets too close to call?
When matches start with pace and verve, then pall?
When top class strikers can’t add to their haul?
When the cracking pace slows to a crawl?
When a sudden bounce makes Yaya Toure sprawl?
When Portugal would struggle ‘gainst Nepal?
When games become a crushing bore for all?
Will everything be blamed upon the ball?

Brazil 2 North Korea 1 (Group G)

Seventy-twelve
Eight grillion and seven
Five and a quark,
Numpty-eleven.
Buckety-six
Eight thousand four grundles,
Nought point candescence
Three and three trundles.

At least, the 102nd ranked team on the globe,
Brainwashed and famine-ridden as they are,
Showed they weren’t merely at the World Cup
To make up numbers.

3 comments:

  1. Brilliant Peter! I haven't got to watch a bloody match now. Great, keep it up.

    And no vuvuzelas.

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  2. These are great, I've been missing out on actually getting to see any matches, and only caught the first apres match so far, but these are very festive and enjoyable - the ball one is especially brilliant.

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  3. We noticed the little guy straight away in the line-up. I said I thought he looked about 12 years old! Good on him! Great poem too, but you outdid yourself with the "ball". I had a list of rhymes for ball (in the event of a villanelle), but the spark is out for the moment.

    I'm driving the Bus this week, if you're interested. It's a weird one.

    Kat

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