PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

On a cold, windy day across the town,

There came three lads of legendary ways,

And as the ambrosia was honestly put down,

Made their way through the bright city haze.



It was at the sports store the money was paid,

For the archer’s compound of delight,

And at the brokers the information gained,

That saw them all equipped with a deadly device.



They arrived at the arena at one forty-five,

And as the sun broke through the clouds,

Made their way through the nebulous crowds,

Of gladitorial throng that looked to take life,

And as they passed the small beer-house,

Grabbed a good cheer that felt good inside.



The sport they saw as they watched from the stand,

Was quick and swift with an agile air,

That saw lttle mercy for the vanquished man,

Of whom would later leap across chairs.



It was about full time the fury began of course,

The instigator had sat just left, in front enough,

When there were fans ecstatic and fans of remorse,

And he had scathingly remarked on their supporting stuff.



In an instant one of lighter blokes,

Had leapt three rows to face the slanderer,

Leaving his loft to settle this reprimander,

And challenged him outside to settle the joke,

In a blink a battoned squad were soon demanding,

They head out to the carpark like trouble free folk.



Well then it was on as all heads soon turned,

To a maelstrom of expletives, clubs and fists,

That heard the shout “Back-up confirmed,”

As they lads thought “Shit! We aren’t even pissed!”



And as they grouped and wrestled on,

The boys thought we’d better be quick,

As they knew it wouldn’t be long,

For more “Officers” appeared, so next was the trick.



And with deft glide there appeared in their hands,

A handful of CD’s that glistened with shine,

And screamed “You’d all better run for your lives,

For these are bootlegs of the Yoko Ono Band!”

And frisbee’d them freely about the stand,

As all disappeared to save their minds.

©R.H.Elliott 2001