Soccer
I always have liked soccer.
Such a rough game.
Such skills required.
And popular.
Hometown watching,
on Sunday morning.
When one day,
I found that I needed
to withdraw.
It was the honourable
Memories Of West Street And Lepke
Only teaching on Tuesdays, book-worming
in pajamas fresh from the washer each morning,
I hog a whole house on Boston's
"hardly passionate Marlborough Street,"
where even the man
scavenging filth in the back alley trash cans,
has two children, a beach wagon, a helpmate,
and is "a young Republican."
I have a nine months' daughter,
young enough to be my granddaughter.
The Fear
They all ask me to jump
to invigorate and to play soccer,
to run, to swim and to fly.
Very well.
They all advise me rest,
they all send me to the doctor,
looking at me a certain way.
What happens?
Poetry And Flowers
Lark and rose go mad, even with winter
coming on, the garden beneath the verandah blooms,
the park is dense with sun and soccer balls.
By lark I mean generic bird, God knows
the names for all these things with wings. Ditto
the rose: the garden drooling colour and bloom.
Lavender I recognise, and jasmine climbing
the concrete wall, and a real rose in the corner,
red as blood. I meant to say: birds and flowers
The Beautiful Game (Soccer)
I love you more than my old soccer cleats,
The ones I’ll never give up.
I love you more than the perfect field,
The one I use to warm up.
I love you more than my soccer ball,
The one that’s perfect for amazing passes.
I love you more than me running along those different types of grasses.
I love you more than the cheering crowds,
The stands made out of plaster.
I love you more than that perfect kick,
Bar Room Tales
Apprehension of the unknown,
In the atmosphere of bar room tension,
Men sitting on long stools, with no time for fools,
On the counter, pint glasses full and half full,
Their on the pull, for women of their dreams,
Conversations of soccer and racing results,
Jockeys slated with outrageous insults,
Clinking of glasses with the batting of long eyelashes,
Ladies looking for love, with disco music blaring above.
Soccer Girl
She gets out there and hustles
She does her very best
It’s all about the teamwork
And winning is her quest
Pretty as a picture
She could be most anything
But for now she’s chosen soccer
And working hard for her team
*a Cottage By The Lake
Away from everyday chaos
Where time flew in a blur
From mundane endeavours
Caging our souls
We took a trip to the lake
That Easter weekend
Lake waters frozen for miles
Stood in silence summoning
Bold feet to jump in
Morning News
Spring wafts up the smell of bus exhaust, of bread
and fried potatoes, tips green on the branches,
repeats old news: arrogance, ignorance, war.
A cinder-block wall shared by two houses
is new rubble. On one side was a kitchen
sink and a cupboard, on the other was
a bed, a bookshelf, three framed photographs.
Glass is shattered across the photographs;
two half-circles of hardened pocket bread
! Loyal Fan
You can take your golf and the rolling greens
You tennis with manicured courts neat and clean
Your soccer, your swimming, your basketball scene -
None measure up to............FOOTBALL!
You can reel in that trout on the end of your line
Spit out your chew while you're ridin' the pine
Pick up that spare with a strike, not a nine
But none spell excitement like............FOOTBALL!
' ' ' ' Ah Where Are The Newspapers Of Yesterday?
We chased
yesterday’s news
all over
the grass
laughed
as the old newspapers
ran this
A Boy Juggling A Soccer Ball
after practice: right foot
to left foot, stepping forward and back,
to right foot and left foot,
and left foot up to his thigh, holding
it on his thigh as he twists
around in a circle, until it rolls
down the inside of his leg,
like a tickle of sweat, not catching
and tapping on the soft
side of his foot, and juggling
From The Top Of The Stairs
Of course
those who are standing at the top of the stairs
know
they know everything
with us it's different
sweepers of squares
hostages of a better future
those at the top of the stairs
appear to us rarely
' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' A Clock Ticks(For Scarlet)
A clock
...ticks.
A vase
reflects upon itself
in an enormous ornate
gilt mirror
admires
A Soccer Report. (Haiku) .
I played goalkeeper.
I coached high school soccer teams:
I lost interest.
-May,2015.
Sicker Soccer
The £10,000 a week defender can’t quite
catch the £20,000 striker who's got
the ball at his nimble, expensive feet, the stadium yelling
fit to raise the roof – what does he do? why,
he pulls the striker’s shirt, of course…; the ref, the commentators
remain silent. We, we were told off at nursery classes,
for pulling little Johnny’s shirt… I mean, for Pele’s sake,
what is this about? ! ..
then at the end of the game (one side’s got to win,
War - 05 (Haiku)
War is a bleeding game of dice
Soccer: played without a goal post
None to win, all to lose.
Flowers For Grandmother
I came to the cemetery in the hazy heat of autumn,
where the crosses creak as they split,
to my grandmother-Maria Iosefovna-
and bought flowers at the gate.
In the era of silent movies Grandmother’s braids
were formed into a tight wreath,
and neighbor ladies in the smoke-filled kitchen
called her the Commissar.
' Our Ron '
Ron, you were to me all a brother could be,
your friendship and memory will always be a part of me. The happy days we spent together are gone, forever lost in time,
but the memories will linger, they will always be mine.
When I was young you used to take me to the flicks, on our way home you would buy me fish and chips, and Ron the times you fixed my tie for school
the result always made me feel so cool
I swaggered off to school with my tie in full view
for no-one could tie a windsor knot like you.
My Brightly Singapore
The deafening roars
Promising faces chanting ‘Singapore, Singapore, Singapore'
Was the acute scene
At the National Stadium where matches to be seen
Is to crown the soccer kingpin
Of South East Asia sovereign
Singapore has done it two times in a row
And three times ever since
A great success for a small nation though