Snooker

Simon “Hurricane” Hudson prowls the snooker table

Like any good mixed metaphor would.

A modern day Pythagoras

He triangulates his shots.

Meanwhile his rival, lion-heart "Rocket" Richard,

Not to be confused with Lionel Richie,

Is on his mobile Googling

How to play the perfect “snooker”.

And the two Perfect Pauls

Discuss the latest football,

While “Whirlwind” Wendy sits in judgement,

Knitting the night away.

At long last Simon plays a stroke!!!

And rattles those unrelenting jaws

Of that elusive pocket yet again.

The game rolls on.

But where the hell is Simon?

The clock on the electricity is running down

But where is Simon?

Where is he?

He’s at the bar

Telling barman Nick how Rochdale

Will win The Cup one day.

Hurray, he’s back to play again.

Cascading planets collide into new orbits

As they did in the Primeval Solar System.

We play on,

Safely keeping those precious balls

Away from those black holes

They call the “pockets”.

We try to pick our shots

(At those pockets lol)

But all we keep potting

Is that white one.

Maybe we should switch to Billiards,

Or pot some plants instead.

Paul Butters

© PB 17\8\2017