THE FOOTBALL MATCH

THE FOOTBALL MATCH .. .

..

I had dreamed it would be like this

    it should never end

Not a cloud to spoil the day

    not a chill wind

    dancing eyes, we were happy

..

I sat in the long grass

    felt the soft moisture on the palms of my feet

Drooped with my head between my knees

    I ran my fingers through the green

..

Two birds chattered and chased

    a fly hummed near

    and another

    I saw a bee .. .

..

Moments like this

    stranded like soldiers between fronts, musing

I have no future

    just pleasant past and now

    what of it?

..

So taking the football, nicely round

    firm, full of air with no punctures

I placed it on the green

    and we started to play,

    laughing

..

I faced the enemy, I had made it fun

    I accepted the inevitable and for a moment I laughed

Lurking in the dark bushes

    faces peered, angry faces

    troubled faces

..

I saw them for a moment

    I feared them and looked away

I headed the ball

    I had scored a goal

    joy!

..

As I ran back, I saw the troubled faces

    So, in my joy I looked longer

I spoke to the troubled faces and they were gone

    Lost, like night’s phantoms

    I had faced the enemy, I had made it fun

.. .

edenbraytoday20.06.1986

..

Authors Note:- I found two old journals of verse that I wrote in the 1980’s during my thirties and even younger and I was struck by their freshness and minimalist naiveté.

I have enjoyed reading them, almost as though they were written by someone else. They speak of aspirations, of faith and hope which is what I believe we all need right now. There is a nice Kerouac naturalness about them too so I’m going to put them here on my site for people to read and make their own mind up about them. Catalogued and Categorised – THE LOST JOURNALS 1980’s

Also, I am reminded of the great wordsmith and troubadour BOB DYLAN, a personal mentor and inspiration to me, who has said that on reading the early songs he wrote back in his twenties from albums like the Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan – that he doesn’t recognise the person who wrote them anymore. Of course Dylan is in fact the supreme enigma and says a lot of stuff but then we all do, don’t we?

.

edenbraytoday

About edenbray

I'm a writer ... I write .. . I’m not sure why I ever stopped, was it 9/11? .. . edenbray is born ugly, wet and covered in blood, mucous and bodily functions ~ the effluence of my short life .. . I am a Writer and Artist since 1966 - I'm an avid Blogger ~ I write lots of poems, written essays, articles, reviews, opinion + comment .. . I have had many poems selected for Anthologies of verse and recently have published many of my poems in 24+ themed booklets ... please ask for details - join the shebang by leaving me a marker with a 'like' or a comment for my ego and encouragement and thanks for listening - I really value your interest ~ edenbray
This entry was posted in edenbray BACK CATALOGUE, edenbray MEMOIRS, edenbray POMES, THE LOST JOURNALS - 1980's. Bookmark the permalink.

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