The EnglishmenA Poem by Phillip WolkeThe room erupted, Not subtly changing, It was percolating and exploded, The atmosphere changes. The television speculators stand up and band together. Like they're the one playing. The table starts rumbling, The pressure starts to rise for another eruption, The Germans start piledriving The goal close in sight. The sight of the goalie, Almost evening the fight. The German, He misses The inches they count. Another goal happens, But which side erupts? The Englishmen rise, In union they cry. The tears of joy fall as the game almost finalizes. The English stand still. The game at two nil. As the moments elapse, The Germans collapse. © 2025 Phillip Wolke |
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Added on April 7, 2023 Last Updated on August 3, 2025 AuthorPhillip WolkeMexico City, MexicoAboutI am a writer who just started doing shorts stories and have written poetry for years. I love all forms of writing and enjoy turning dreams into short stories. more.. |

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