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Hooked On A Feeling

kevin raymond

Wednesday, July 20th, 2011

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Out on “The Scrubs” – with the school or youth club
Putting our shift in somewhat
Acting possessed – with stuck out barrelled chests
We giving it our best shot.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 We were tackling tough – which seemed fair enough
Our opponents were doing likewise
Soft friendly mud – stopped us both drawing blood
Yet it stuck in our hair and young eyes.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Midst pain and hurt – which often were curt
Stifling tears we continued the fight
Next time the kid – who had done dirty deed
Came near we would seek our requite.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Oranges at half-time – tasting sweetly sublime
If proceedings were going your way
Tasted bitter as lemon – down in hell / up in heaven
If other side should just edge it in play.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Those dressing room grudges – scraping off mud
The sound loads of nylon studs makes
Cold water showers – the winning, the power
The wonderful songs victors slay.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Exerted young faces – displayed every trace
Of the effort that’s needed to win
As the down hearted losers – still battered and bruised
From the not enough effort put in.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 The underground home – reliving each moment
Of the way that the game had panned out
Had your mates in hysterics – using words esoteric
So the been there know what your about.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 The feeling such Saturday mornings gave
To a red haired kid from a council estate
Are a wonderful memory that even today
Inspires me still – though me barnet is now somewhat grey!

© Kev 2011

Notes

This poem is a fond memory of my playing junior football over at “The Scrubs” or Wormwood Scrubs to give it, it’s proper name.

Which is or at least was (In my day!) an absolute ocean of wonderful local authority football pitches, with seemingly hundreds of games being played at the same time of a Saturday or Sunday morning, and is right next to the in-famous West London prison bearing the same name.

Go well and be lucky.

Carefree…

Peace.

Kev.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/hooked-on-a-feeling/