Pride is all black,
It tastes like your mouthguard before you run onto the field.
Pride smells like the grass when you've scored the winning try.
It looks like Captain McCaw lifting the Webb-Ellis cup.
It sounds like the roar of the crowd after the final whistle has been blown.
Pride feels like getting sprayed with expensive Champagne.
I love the image of pride tasting like your mouth guard! I dont know what that tastes like but can somehow imagine it anyway!
ReplyDeleteHi Sam
ReplyDeleteI loved your poem about pride.
You used really descriptive language.
Keep up the great work.
( What All Black is that? )
It seems your mum and I loved the same line. I can imagine the taste as I felt so proud when we won the cup yet have never worn a mouthguard. Your use of descriptive language and imagery made this poem come to life for me. A great writer is born !
ReplyDeleteAndrea Fale