john tiong chunghoo

Gold Star - 4,894 Points (Jan 21,1960 / Sibu, Sarawak, Borneo East Malaysia)

Fifa World Cup - Poem by john tiong chunghoo

GERMANY! ! ! ! !

dance dance dance
shake, sing, hold your hands high up
for the power of the foot
and the crowning of the ball

colour the faces bright
like a lion
in red, blue and white

shake, shake, shake

the world roar
to the might of the thighs
feet and the power
of the finite brain
pushed to a corner
seeking its veracity
in the bouyancy
of a ball
like an ocean crashing
onto shore

costa rico goal

bossa nova, a Brazilian hall and
ball of stinging spices
that make the heart beat and
skip every two minutes

slip, fall, slide, collide, bleed, kick,
crash, kneel, bite, fold palms (to madonna) ,
hugs, tight hugs, tears, cry, goal

32 countries roll on a field of dreams
it's the confluence of high fantasy,
where a ball takes centre stage
and dances of expectation are topped off
with smart muscular and slick physiques
signed with years of bruised tendons,
overstretched thighs - in a cauldron
of hope boiling and spilling over
on a green green field

fifa world cup - this month
where eyes will grovel on
fields, iconic faces, legs and between
those things that make those legs triumph
- balls that dribble, jump, hop,
bounce, richochet, fly, and careen
to a home that either makes or
breaks one's heart

the world cup
those excited roars again
throughout night

this is the month where ball
is the code word for fun
those little globes that dribble, jump, dash, hop, fly,
twist, turn and careen with score
that either makes or breaks one's heart

Fifa fifa on the run

in life, we are always on the run
on the field of goals
everywhere people are on the run
chasing after a dream
and in the process get a field
of everything of life -
sweet, sour, bitter, spicy soups
we down either with pleasure
or with a pinch of salt
in life, we are always on the fun
on a green green field
slip, fall, slide and rise
to take on life challenges
thrashed from all sides
every now and then
when the stars cross path
and do not shine bright
cry in the silence of night
when things did not meet well
crashed at the ego
patted on the back
on the illuminated stage
held shoulder high
thrown up in admiration
kissed in the limelight
in life we are always on the run
either to life
or away from it
either to a goal
or away from it
fifa fifa fifa fifa fifa

a ball of a bossa nova and samba fun
fifa world cup
this month when eyes will grovel
all over the Brazilian fields -
on faces culled like jewels from the
world's vast continents
well built physiques,
on powerful legs and between those things
that make those legs triumph
- balls that dribble, jump,
fly, richochet, and careen to
a home that either makes
or breaks our heart

the real ball are the physiques
which are filled full with the air of wants
and ever ready to spring to action
to show their invincibilities
for a patriotic goal

for that they can turn a million ways
grab, pounce, shove, slip, slide, glide,
sommersault, slither, twist and turn
and even with the legs up when it comes
to the honour for anyone fit enough to claim
in the wide wide field

the real field are the million things
the ball can get the mind to conjure,
a green plain of fascinations, and
inspirations, longings charged up
by the million of fans that send
hearts aflutter with wild ecstasies
and every nerve a living ball
rolling, dashing, swirling to a goal

Topic(s) of this poem: sports

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, June 12, 2014

Poem Edited: Tuesday, July 22, 2014

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