Hey  everyone On day 11 of NaPoWriMo there could be only one topic for my poem and that is the Grand National. This is depending on your viewpoint either greatest or cruelest event in the horse racing calendar, and i tend to take the former view as i am one of these poor fools who will be having my annual once a year bet on the outcome of this most exciting of steeplechases. As for my record of getting a return for my money it has shall we say become a lot poorer than it was in my youth when picking Red Rum was a relatively easy choice. Since then or more accurately since the early 1980’s i have had a wee bit of a barren spell and i haven’t chosen the winning horse since Party Politics won in 1992 in the height of an election campaign. i wonder if my choice Rebel’s Rebellion may just win it given the current political climate. I am sure of one thing though if there were runners called Call Me Dave or Mr Ed i would back them to fall at the first. Anyway, that’s enough my ranting i have given my poem the title Flutter i hope you enjoy the read.


30 Horses 30 Fences
once a year punters
taking leave of our senses
having a flutter
for a wee bit of fun
hoping ours comes home
at 20-1

The selections are chosen
based on colours or names
on a expert’s prediction
who will soon get the blame
If our horse gets pulled up
or it falls at the first
when the betting slip’s torn
then the bubble has burst.

We invoke ancient curses
when our choice isn’t placed
the horse and the jockey
are both named in disgrace
we don’t even think
that the odds were a gamble
we prefer to pretend
the result was a scandal

We believed we had chosen
a good each way bet
for a modest return
though I think we forget
you’ll never see a bookmaker
living in poverty
and the first national winner
was the aptly named lottery.

@ Gayle Smith 2015


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