The middle east heat hovers in Doha,
Blazes like the heart of hell.
The golden trophy shines in Qatar,
Awaits for the world cup winner to be hoisted.
Emerald turfs ablaze with silky gleams
Like fields of evergreen gems.
Football begins to breathe again like four year ago.
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Author:
poetri (
Offline) - Published: November 6th, 2022 21:35
- Comment from author about the poem: Sovcer is my game
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 40
Offline)
Comments1
eight years of atrocious modern slavery
to host an event that barely lasts four weeks..
how many lives
would those billions wasted on stadiums
have saved?
(football, will always be
a love of my life as well, dear poet
but now, it has become
just a corrupted shadow of what it once represented)
'the people's game, profiteering
from
the people's sweat and tears'
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