Thought a regular posting of poetry each Friday would be good. So, last Friday’s post being the first time, today is 002. A rather eclectic mix of poems, with the hope that you might enjoy or be moved by one.
What seems like one minute you are chewing on your HB pencil
Staring at the clock and dreaming yourself out onto the dusty street with
Football between your agile feet, and running, running.
The next, you are lying on your back struggling
To breath through white dust that settles in your mouth and lungs
And you somehow can’t make your hand wipe away what stops your eyes from blinking.
Sounds of moaning, all around you in the dark, burst the small bubble of
Hope, that you are daydreaming at your desk, and you will wake up any moment
And the clock will say 16:54.
Please shut up
They always stand at the top of the bleacher seats
Steaming Starbucks ‘to go’ in clenched hands.
Sideline exclamations of more than encouraging words.
“Go, run, kick, pass, hard on the ball girls, now go!”
Constant commentary for two 25 minute halves
While red and blue go up and back, up and back, up and back.
Prepubescent girl with parental dreams pressing
Like hot hands into the small of their sweaty backs, and
Expectations like hair on fire.
They play with heart and soul, while
Parents hold vigil
At this Sunday morning prayer meeting for scholarship futures.
In the distance striped fields of ochre and green show how
one day, soft topped grasses moved like waves in the wind
and how a passing Massey Ferguson laid them down, unresisting
into rows like palomino manes, subdued and willing to embrace
the sun, heat up, dry out, offer up body and blood
as fodder for ruminations of cattle and poets and
farmers at the Feed and Tack.