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
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,
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
I saw them for a moment
I feared them and looked away
I headed the ball
I had scored a goal
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
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?