A.C. Milan

Go right, drift from the left 

feet crossed, warning from the ref 

flick & turn, move upfield 

One more challenge, his fate is sealed 

slide in measure, ode to pleasure 

towards the corner, offsets the pressure 

goalie dived backward down 

then climbs up with a wayward frown 

upset pride, feeling like a clown 

the losing side are 1-0 down 

production falls, towards the ground

 in this peculiarly sad Italian town

"Saremo una squadra di diavoli. I nostri colori saranno il rosso come il fuoco e il nero come la paura che incuteremo agli avversari."

— 1899, Herbert Kilpin^[17][18]

Winters edge

Up rose sunshine afore the spring

the howling whistles, shrills a ring

thunder on yet quietly sing

wondering else the winter bring

Snow flurries rush a frequent hale

slippery stone about here now

sitting and fishing, in the eve 

caught ought else’ except a sneeze

A shivering shake, lying wide awake

Rayburn yearning, to bake a cake

no place left to call thine own

nothing remains of a once loved home

She rests

The late summer rain fell, ends a spell of drought,

I hear a song of hunger and going without.

Thunderous water nourished the trees, 

the wind dies down to lower the breeze

the flowers, the lawn, a mist settles in 

the early autumn dawn a new era begins 

Early Thursday, a red sun arose in the morning sky, remembrance of a beautiful day weeks gone by.
 I felt the warmth of my skin  nourishment to the soul loved by kin.    a feeling of peace, deep within 

I recall too soon, the bitter twist of karma    a bite from a vile snake charmer.   tragedy strikes the nation, the news is not good,       our queen is dead, hearts are filled with dread, another conservative leader makes her bed

A full package

Not a person had spoken to him in years 

Without question the best in his field 

A complete package, had not fallen apart

Never let the vultures steal his yield 

The efforts made were uncontested 

All this in a fashionable jacket  

Underneath a vest that is double breasted 

though beauty he could see all around

On the hills and in the ground

this story may seem good and sound

He was the loneliest scarecrow

That would ever  be found

Alone

A sunny day, one or two, none so many, but there’s  been a few, 

I’ve never felt the warmth or joy, of holding near a loved ones ploy, 

the secret wish to be close with me, just holding hands in the rain, 

Gently kissing below the willow tree

I’ve never known what life is about, an unwanted feeling of fear and doubt

is it an illusion, a deep desire?

I’ve only known a disasters mire, bullying into submission, burning with fire.

A long hard trip

Intellectually astute, renowned for thinking, clever to the task, intuitively clinking, quickened logic formerly slick, emotional collapse when his brain went click.

Thoughts of the world, bridges built, towers of glass raised up from silt, mountains climbed, tunnels channeled, children hungry, politicians flannel

Disastrous read more bad luck news, a heart of flickers continual blues, he placed a rope on his neck then jumped from the bridge, said “what the heck”

Soul searching for peace, no peace found, regressing back to a torturous past, doomed throughout fading fast, nothing good would ever last. 

Closing eyes, until feeling fine then flew like a bird for a moment in time, sparkling stars, tightening grip, was this real, or just a blip, a cup of coffee, with one last sip, tragic end to a long hard trip

My Dad

My dad told me a story of forty years before, when he was young and there was a World war, I thought ‘he is old, well; what does he know anyway’?

the petulance of youth never seems to fade, ignorance is everything when you know it all,

Life has been difficult, if only I could hear him once more, to really listen, intent to learn, I would have had less bridges to burn, my father was a hero, a young voluntary fireman, a royal airforce cadet, saving Saturdays for a little shilling bet, Harold, Red & Pat, a short tempered rat with a heart of gold, a maniac cat he owned, it would always attack, confused and alone now though surrounded by friends, most times I think my life would end, I’ve no more to give, burned to the ground, to rest a buzzing mind from an abnormal sound, no, stay quiet, not be found.