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New Songs

Robert Clucas-Tomlinson

Friday, January 27th, 2006

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 These long winters what tragedies bring
the beautiful game
where we hoard all joys?.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 In august all truths become our songs,
our hopes and aspirations long
and warm, they filter through the crowd

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 in chorus to the artisans
weaving eternal wonderlands
who dance while cold winds shake their stage

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 and each degenerating winter month
creates its own production of the game
that tortures,

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 in its changing shades,

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 even the best of us who blame
the frozen soil, the driving rain,
the easterly, swirling chills of fate
for passes strayed and dreams not answered.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 One more season of bitter disappointment.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Til summer wends its lighter feet
over littered terraces where we depart
wearily to memory vaults on quiet streets

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 and drowsy hearbeats at three O’Clock
on village greens where we idly count
ephemeral runs off willow bats

10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 til griefs subside and languid pursuits
can no longer stem the aching void
in the partizan belly of the football fool.

11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 Bobble hats twitch on forgotten coat-pegs,
scarves catch our eye. We pray
to the merciful god of lucky pants

12 Leave a comment on verse 12 0 and pursue our scampering dreams along
sun-sketched paths to a lush green land
with stale disappointments suitably repressed

13 Leave a comment on verse 13 0 and new songs to sing.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/new-songs/