Shock and Awe

Skirmishes over, the battle lines drawn.

The whole world looks on to witness the scene.

Colourful legions advance on the city.

Convoys speed onwards, with livery flying,

As flags and banners declare their allegiance.

At the edge of the city the troops are amassing,

With uniforms donned and war paint applied,

The armies march on to the rallying cry.

Emotions run high for differing reasons,

Failure is what the superior force fear.

The underdog hopeful, but proud to be there.

The scene is now set, the rivals are ready,

The talking is over, their game plans decided,

There's no going back, let battle commence.

The protagonists enter the famous arena,

To the shock and awe of a wall of sound

And a writhing sea of yellow and blue.

The formalities over, the opponents line up,

The missile is primed, the targets in sight,

In the deafening silence the signal is heard.

One side's supporters pump up the volume,

When the ebb and flow of the contest begins,

As the passes, the shots and tackles fly in.

The others meanwhile sit silent and still,

Collectively praying, not daring to look.

Then a shot hits the target. Now they can shout.

There's a lull in the onslaught. The teams can regroup.

Then with more urgency the battle restarts,

This is the last stand, time's running out.

Some lunges and challenges fall foul of the rules,

But still they keep fighting, urged on with each pass,

By their loyal supporters, still in full voice.

With the clock ticking down they nearly succeed.

Their effort is thwarted. They have to concede.

As the cheers ring out for the winning team.

Although they are losers and should be forlorn,

Supporters keep singing and cheering their team,

Heroes each one, they fought to the end.

They may not be victors, but winners they are,

For the way they supported and showed their respect.

They can hold their heads high; they were not disgraced.

Though this battle is over, there will be more,

For next year there's Europe,

We'll be there for sure.

Margaret Horner, Southampton

Polly Clark writes: Margaret is a lifelong Saints supporter who loved the experience of going to the Millennium Stadium to see the FA Cup final between Saints and Arsenal.

She said: "The whole experience was amazing. The colour, laughter and camaraderie will remain with me always."

Margaret has written a narrative poem: she tells a story and uses a regular rhythm. This is an example of the form of the poem reflecting the content to some extent: the rhythm carries the reader along. Margaret has used the idea of battle for the match, and the rhythm also helps to remind the reader of a marching song, like those that soldiers sing. It has the feeling of an anthem.

One of the good things about this poem, aside from its passion, is the vivid image it creates in the reader's mind. You do not need to have been to the match to feel the excitement, the noise, and the colour. I especially liked lines such as "A writhing sea of yellow and blue" and "In the deafening silence the signal is heard". This is what makes it stand out: Margaret does not just tell the story, she shows it to us, and this is the secret to all good writing.