Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010

Ninety Seconds

by clare lupino

A strategy of clever passes
To entertain the frightened masses;
With ninety seconds, Beckham scores,
To take our minds away from wars.
A million dollars,
Golden Balls - and...
We forget each tower that falls,
Each bomb that strikes,
Each missile soaring,
Each and every warship,
Mooring.
And so the winning score is ours,
Despite the felling of The Towers:
George's cross-
So's Uncle Sam,
So paint yer wagons,
Wig-Wam-Bam,
"We'll take your son now, thankyou M'am".
He'll soon be home,
God's on our side,
To open up His church doors
Wide;
To ring out those bells
With open pride,
Just don't...dwell
On why he died.
Remember how he loved The Game,
Long before this token fame;
The stripes, the medals,
The huge acclaim,
The army wife
With her own name,
The ninety seconds on The News,
The coat of arms,
The bulging pews;
The Merry Widdow festooned hats,
The regimental glory chats,
The eyes that stare at patent feet-
Defense procedure,
Lest they meet
And water with
Emotion.

Added: 26.04.2010

Judges' comments on this poem

10.05.2010

loved the rhythm, it travels beautifully

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