A Load Of Balls!

Fifteen rounded balls triangled,

Racked and ready to roll,

As the black in the middle,

Knows at some stage

He’ll end up in a hole, 

Reds and yellows on either side,

The players cue is chalked,

Ructions going on outside,

No spoken words in this room talked,

The player takes aim to strike,

White flashes rolling fast,

As the impact shatters,

Reds go down and some mixed up shoot past,

While yellows scatter everywhere

It all seems so abrupt,

The black ball in the centre,

With no warning, he gets an awful clatter,

As he flies off in a blinding huff,

To the cushion for an natter,

Talking to himself now,

The player loses his bottle,

After only two of his reds are potted,

Then the other player starts to waffle on and on,

Giving up his chair instead, he waltzes like a dream.

Precision potting four yellow balls,

He laughs and shakes his head,

The red ball player is up the walls,

As three more yellow balls do fall,

The black is missed and names are called,

While the red ball player takes a stroll,

Up to the table with his shooting rod,

All the reds are dropped with ease 

He’s on a roll with shaking knees,

Then he slices the white 

As it wobbles in the pocket,

But along with the black it slowly drops.

The loser wins while the loser whinges,

Whimpering tantrums call, its all a load of balls

If it weren’t for the bad in luck, I’d have none at all.