'The last quarter. Was always gonah be,''
said the lad in Aldi, Sale, on checkout three.
'But, what a clincher, Sheed kicking that goal,
Maynard and the Pies a bit miserable.
Oh... the Eagles!'
That was about two weeks ago:
trams beating their schedules down deserted streets,
alfresco cafes' spookily empty seats.
On mobile, scorelines told of Collingwood's woe.
But we were out for Melbourne's modern art:
architectural skylines and the stark light,
articulate in tinted, mirroring glass.
In the middle of intersections, delight,
snapping opportunities too good to pass,
let Eagles dare away, jinxed Magpies smart!
.......................
It's a kind of hybrid sonnet but with eleven syllables a line (ten for the last line, to emphasize ending).
It was the Australian Rules Football League (AFL) final, featuring the West Coast Eagles and the Collingwood Magpies or Pies.
Mobile (phone) is cellphone for USA friends.
Bonus Poem:
More Wind
In the Bolero of these last three days
night, day, through rain, now sun, blowing a gale
the wind wont keep its hat on but must rail,
glazing the mind in a deep cast that crazes
with cracks along runnels of morning roads,
fulminations blustering,
sensory overloads
glittering evening with feral dapple,
mad stir of gum leaves' wild amaze.
Over verandahs long shadows ripple.
.........................
