SNOOKER POEMS

If I’d Picked Up A Snooker Cue

 

 

If I’d picked up a snooker cue, when I picked up a pen;

and then gone on to build a break of eight or nine or ten.

 

If I had only listened more to those who understand;

who told me not to play the game by using just one hand.

 

If I’d just watched Big Break much more, instead of writing rhyme;

and studied Foulds and Knowles instead of Byron all the time.

 

If I’d just gone and bought more chalk, and even used a tip,

upon my cue, then thought perhaps to practice just a bit.

 

If I had researched Virgo’s words instead of Wilfred Owen;

and written many papers on ‘Where’s The cue ball going?’

 

If I had only listened more to whispering Ted Lowe

instead of sometimes listening to Pam Ayres in full flow.

 

If I had studied Parrot’s wit and Alex Higgins flair.

instead of Larkin, Betjeman, Wordsworth or John Clare.

 

If only I’d heard Snooker Loopy played a little more,

instead of writing verses that sometimes never rhyme!

 

If I had just stayed up all night to watch the grinder ‘Cliff’,

and not penned many rewrites of Kipling’s poem ‘If!’

 

If I’d just seen the final frame in Nineteen Eighty Five,

and had a longer tape cassette which didn’t then rewind.

 

If I’d thought of a funky name like Jimmy ‘Whirlwind’ White,

or ‘Scarface’ or ‘The Rocket’, one which would excite.

 

If I had done these things I’ve said, then yes I’m sure, I know it.

I would have been a snooker star, and not an unknown

poet!

**Based on Rudyard Kipling's 'If'.**

Pleasure

(A poem based on the Snooker Shoot-Out)

What is this frame if, time's so rare.

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to see the perfect shot.

No time to think about the pot.

No time for banter with the crowd.

No Terry Griffiths thoughts allowed.

No time to think of ranking points,

or hear the creaking of our joints.

No time to think of safety play,

which makes the sport so great I'd say.

A poor frame this if, time's so rare.

We have no time to stand and stare.

**Based on the William Henry Davies poem called 'Leisure'**

 

I Potted A Long Red

 

I potted a long red and gave out a scream,

as it was the best shot that I'd ever seen.

Still needing 8 snookers, I thought this could mean,

the start of a comeback - the best that there's been!

I needed to focus and not start to dream

as my best ever break was only sixteen.

I potted the black and gave out a scream

as I'd aimed for the green in the worst shot there's been!

 

The King Of The Crucible

 

            Hendry kept winning and winning and winning.

Seven times world champion, his rivals weren’t grinning.

His long pots were stunning. His pot success great.

Eleven times he made a maximum break.

 

Thirty Six titles in ranking events.

He’d win with attack or win with defence.

A legend from Scotland with an MBE.

He’s one of the greatest that there’ll ever be.

What Would Taylor Have Done?

I was losing eight nil and having no fun.

I thought to myself what would Taylor have done?

I kissed the big trophy as if I had won.

(I lost eighteen nil to my ten year old son!)