Full Contact

A mighty engine with a human heart,

steam billows from the rolling muscled mass

until the beast unlocks and breaks apart.

Its body parts move swift across the grass.

Two behemoths colliding head to head,

their age old frames rough hewn from tempered steel,

the scars of battle dripping ruby red

yet, win or lose, the wounds will never heal.

The crowd let out a snarling winners roar

when titans growl and move in for the kill.

The only thing more painful than the score

- the gnawing claws of deep mid-winter chill.

We witness heroes, glory, pain and blood

upon these rugby fields of northern mud.