Back to Black



A single point thrice
To suffice... a splice
To a concise
Precise victory... consecutively
Over the Cockerel Rose and Kiwi
In a fortnight of agony height in a ferocious fright fight
To navigate and to satiate
Soft hard lofty hope and innate weight
Carrying in freight...
A nation 's hope hanging... languishing
Defeat ultimately vanishing

A tri-victory so close
Uppermost... so narrow
Even hallow... never shallow!

Reflective...  introspective of living on the edge  
Peering over that ominous ledge...
Staring straight stark... into the dark
Looming... abyss
Loss... thwarted by the silver ferns narrow arrow miss
Titanic tight... in a struggle of feisty finesse fitness might
Win or lose... dark or light?
Entrenching encasing entwining our souls within sight
Mounting an insurmountable height
Superlative symptomatic of our dramatic, orderly - chaotic
Sometimes subjugating sublimal septic?
Yet overtly ecstatic... never say die life in SA!

The oval ball battlefield conveying... as if to say
I am enacting...  in its day-by-day way
Mirroring your tenacity endurance and glory... even gory?
Of all your multiplex – complex, internal - external turmoil
In a constricting convoluting coil... as you toil on your own soil
An accolade made within the shifting simmering shade
Albeit temporary in a permanent memory that has to fade?

A Kiwi shock jock... jesting jostling joking at the Bok
Complimenting... foretelling a pending apocalypse
But it was an eclectic electric eclipse
Engulfing enveloping any imminent lapse
To a defeat
In an attacking defensive rhythmic pulsating beat
Per se, triumphant at the end of the play
Not to surrender... never to falter
At that fiery oval ball altar!

Hanging by a thread
Our dark past legacy, ultimately one more time to shed
By that elusive gold goal go ahead
Failure is to be shun... even thru a tri time one
Thrice by the narrowest to ultimately win
Losing is almost a sin
For some daily... in the same survival loop
Spun within a constant cyclical coop

Once more healing our troubled land in a divine ordinance?
For us all to stand in an ordained providence
In accord, a fourth time... a record sequentially scored
Spirits soared, should have been the fifth, remember ' 87...?
Uneven, absent...  not there to reckon
That mid - eighties dream team
Yes ...in a virtual all blanche pale gleam
Was just not to be in all probability
That the all-time, best of the best... ultimate combo
Off sided in isolation limbo
Not to participate and dominate that inaugural hollow show!

A victory now... so soothingly sublimely sweet
Over the land of the long white cloud’s elite
The next future fixating feat
Is it to be a 3-peat?
To wonder in ' 27 down under!

About this poem

Back to Black is about the springbok rugby world cup victory. The last three nail biting matches. Back against the all blacks and out of the red. Hence the title back to black.

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Written on December 02, 2023

Submitted by f.k.allie on December 26, 2023

2:28 min read
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Quick analysis:

Scheme AAABBCCDDEE XFF GGXHHCCCCIIX JJBKKLL XMMXNNJOO PPPQRRSS TTXOQUUBFFF NNNNO
Closest metre Iambic hexameter
Characters 2,729
Words 497
Stanzas 8
Stanza Lengths 11, 3, 12, 7, 9, 8, 11, 5

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    "Back to Black" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/178048/back-to-black>.

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