Snooker poem - first draft!

And here's a poem on snooker I've been sitting on for a while. Enjoy

Snooker (By Malcolm Head)

Foul and a miss, an easy red,

Ebdon fingers a scab on his head,

Snooker’s the game…

Some smooth cueing from Mark Williams opens up the table,

Reds sparse, colours on their spots, Williams as concentrated as an owl at nightfall,

Graeme Dott coughs onto the collar of his waistcoat, and sips at his water nervously,

Whilst in the commentary box John Virgo thinks about Jim Davidson

A makeable pink, a missable black,

John Parrot is on the attack!

Snooker’s the game…

“Shot to nothing” says Dennis Taylor, scratching the frame of his iconic glasses with a blistered thumb,

“You say that” says Willie Thorne, “but if it drops, it’ll be a shot to something all right!”

Taylor shakes his head and mumbles something off mic in Thorne’s direction,

Thorne gets his phone out and types a message that begins with “please - no quorn mince”

But then deletes it and returns his attention to the match

Tight to the cushion, touching ball,
The Referee must make an important call,
Snooker's the game...

Ronnie O'Sullivan misses a simple red through sheer complacency as he starts playing left-handed, which quite frankly is insulting to his opponent Ken Doherty and the game itself,
Marco Fu hiccups and then finds an unlikely plant,
Much to the frustration of John Higgins who crushes a handful of bombay mix in his pocket,
John Virgo bites into a cheese sandwich and nods in approval;
"In ten years, Asia will be the heart of snooker. Asia. That's the future"

Out of position, a safety shot,
Jimmy White chances a risky pot,
Snooker's the game


I'll post the other half soon brethren. I bid you adieu

M