The Beautiful Game Poem by Alex Francis Komban

The beautiful game is liked by one and all
Such is the captivating nature of football
The game unites many, but can also push
Countries into war, hostility and agony

The players standing up for their anthems
With prayers of a million souls behind them
Hands on their chests, pride in their hearts
The flags rising up, along with so many hopes

The sound of whistle pushing the ball into rolling
The blaring of a thousand vuvuzelas, fans chanting,
Rhythmic beatings of drums, crisp steps of samba
Fervor passed around through Mexican waves

The game orchestrated with perfect artistry,
Grand schemes, and extraordinary skills,
Glimpses of human genius, upping the physical limits
Occasionally hindered by ugly fouls and unwanted rants

The fortunate gets to be elevated to the ranks
Of saints and demigods, heroes and legends
While the hapless gets condemned, and cursed
Hunted down and butchered as scapegoats

The victorious gets to kiss the cup and hold it
While the others rue over their fate,
Cursing their slip between the cup and the lip
Dejected, all their sweats now turned into tears

Our life draws parallel to the beautiful game
We all are mere players, aiming for our goals
Stopping and resuming our runs, unfortunately,
Dictated by whistles, blown by someone else

Occasionally marked by foul plays and unnecessary cries
But producing our moments of greatness and magic
Stamping our boots, with the attainment of goal,
As in football, which makes it the beautiful game