The little boys are back and say teach us more on how to play this game that we think is fun not just us but everyone who has ever kicked a ball they, like the boys, come back for more.
Yesterday, the first training we had in more than a month, it’s too bad that our coach had us running laps which is nothing new but he surprised us all and with sprints we did run against the other team and fun and games was had by all as one team was better by far and left the other team behind left them eating their dust and grime.
The coach promised that even we’ll get at training on Thursday, for it’s a safe bet that the team that won on Tuesday will find that they too will be left behind and it will be there turn to say we didn’t run very well today.
The year is now twenty twelve Is that significant you may ask only to those whose age extends beyond that when the tasks of running and jumping and being young and loving and laughing has long passed. Until all that is left in this shell of a man are desires and thoughts and memories when all of those things he was able to do he does through others unbeknownst to them he lives off their youth and absorbs their hunger for life even though they haven’t a clue that by his teaching, sharing and playing too is yet another way for him to hide growing old before his time.
Young and old and in between we are all living the impossible dream of that day when our maker must face and we can say that in our place we did run and jump and play with the best and when the time came we did not rest but passed on what we had learned in our life that others may learn and without strife our place to take in this world of life.
I am glad in this world I have lived all these years The things I have seen and the stories I have heard All the good and the bad and the regular things All the hoping and wishing and impossible dreams The things that between them make up this life The good stuff and bad stuff and stuff that makes strife
Where would we be if we didn’t have stuff What would we do if life was enough With our dreams and our hopes and our thoughts of the same Moments of glory, of wealth and of fame
And along this road that we tread as we go we pile on more stuff to add to the load of the already burden of doubt and of fear as we add to the stuff that life brings each year.
As if stuff was not just the mind burdening kind we add to it with the physical find of all of the things that our world can supply Stuff we must have if just for the day
After that, we can throw it away as no longer will it of interest be as it joins the other stuff we have hidden in attics and closets, garages and sheds in boxes and cases and other places too anywhere to add to the unwanted stuff one day we find, “Look at this, Look what I found. Didn’t know that I still had this around. This is something I need. Boy, what a day. glad that I kept all this stuff”. we do say.
And to the stores we eagerly seek more stuff of the kind when our resolve is weak and we bring it home and use it one time maybe twice if it was a real find then into the closet, spare bedroom or shed does it go to join the rest of the stuff.
Oh! what a beautiful day, I stand outside in the sun and say “Where else would I want to be today”? The truth of the matter is that I can think of no better place to be than in Austin in Texas in January. The temperature is so sublime, the sun is warm, the weather is fine, this evening the temperature colder will feel and it might go down to 30 degrees but even with this little freeze will not dampen the spirits raised during the day when the sun feels so warm to make us say “Oh what a beautiful day”.
It used to be six months ago when I was sitting around and things were slow trying to find something to do, something useful, something new.
Generally, I would find something of the physical kind as that is what I have always done when I am of the mind that something I need to do today in the yard that I can say, “Look at this, look what I have done, different from I did before” as I view my work and feel so fine that I was not wasting my time.
Now, I am much older and know that physical things no longer show as top of the list when things are slow as they used to years ago.
My thoughts turn to the writing thing, a story or poem anything is better to fill my time instead of things of the physical kind.
It’s not that I am a lazy man, far be it for I have found that I enjoy working hard and things I take to put together, something to make or a garden to shape so that things will grow, flowers will bloom and people will know that it did not happen all by itself, it took a little work from me and Nature and God and between we three we have turned what we have for all to see into this thing of lasting beauty.
I walked around the garden today To see what Nature had to say Being winter this time of year Brings frosts that can be very severe So far we have but a couple of light freezes Enough to kill the tenderest of greenery The hardiest plants have withstood the touch Of Mother Natures icy fingers and such Are the sights that today I see As I walk around the garden for me A chance to see what remains to be found Now that Nature has levelled all growth to the ground
After the frosts their havoc did wreak I busied myself in the garden to keep The worst of the frozen material at bay And cut and raked and collected it up And placed it on the pile of dead stuff To rot and to turn into compost so fine That on the garden be placed to complete the rhyme Things grow, things die, things rot and return Back to the soil from whence they began.
After the frost
The garden so green and so fine with lush growth Will return when Spring with the sun and her warmth Decide that Winter has now long gone And time for the cycle to renew again Once more to fill the garden with hope And growth will begin where today there is none All it takes is rain and a lot of sun And the loving care of folks just like me Who believe that Nature can use some help To shape itself and with its growth Renew itself again and again. The only help that folks like me Are to the garden, it’s plain to see That some sort of order of which there is none The way Nature grows it she lets it become A wild and somewhat unruly beast But that’s only because in our orderly minds Things have to be in some sort of lines Whereas Nature is happy to have things grow Any which way its true as long as a show Of beauty she puts on for all to see Mother Nature is here for eternity
It will grow back
And when we are gone and that we must face In this World is Nature with her beauty and grace No more will mankind with their orderly minds Disturb what is now Mother Nature’s kind.
This writing thing has a hold on me Every time I can I try to see If something else I can write Poem, story it matters not To give it a try with all I have got Another posting, look at that He is good for that’s a fact Let’s wait ’till tomorrow and we will see What it is that he has come up with today To share with us and in his own way satisfy the urge that he has to write In the hope that he might Strike a chord, a harmony or two As with his writing he finds out who He really is.With notebooks and pens scattered all around On this journey of writing they can be found Within his reach as thoughts he does sound Not to forget but to write them down The thoughts come in and just as fast Do leave his mind, they do not last Unless pen to paper he does apply To make those thoughts reality take In his search for words that he might make The perfect story or poem with rhyme He writes so fast not wasting time In an effort to get words down to see What has he written this time for he is an old man and time he hath not To write all the things, they are a lot In his hurry to beat the clock on the wall The one that says, that’s it, that’s all Try as you might, you still will fall at the end, just like us all You cannot beat time how hard you may try for in the end we must all die. And time has run out.
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 12/07/2011
Rose with Frost
The first real frost has come early this year and we are hardly into December It seemed that in previous years, much later than this as I remember. Then again, with a summer like the one we just had where we set all kinds of records and how bad the heat it has to be said, ninety-seven days of one hundred degrees more than we have ever had in the history of records for this sort of thing.
Around the garden I did walk surveying the damage the frost had wrought on the plants that survived the terrible drought and the heat that Mother Nature had brought. Every year this happens as is the cycle of life things are sown and they grow as is Natures way and then at the end when the seasons do change along comes the frost to re-arrange the beauty that was into something less green as things die back no more to be seen but wait for next year in early Spring Mother Nature awakes and things start to grow for this is the cycle of life that we know
The human side of me is thinking of the loss of the plants so green that have now at a cost become refuse in the cycle of life and to the compost heap without strife. That of course means work for me as from their place in the yard we must cut them back and tidy the place where they did grow and in that space will be emptiness for a while until Nature begins its cycle of growth and everything starts over again, we hope.
So far, Nature has never failed to make things grow in their normal place and it has to be said is expected to be that Nature will always fulfill destiny.
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 12/04/2011
Rainy Day in Texas
It’s another rainy day and the skies are so grey that makes three in a row and as we all know here in Texas it is almost a record as more than a shower at any one time get’s people talking and saying how fine is this rain we certainly need it, how much did you get, it is plain to see how exciting rain can be for we have been lacking and many inches behind and we all know that without rain things don’t grow, our plants and flowers and farm crops too wither and die a sorry sight as everything dries up and yards and gardens that should be so green are now brown and just dismal a site to be seen.
We wonder if when Spring comes around how much of this stuff that is now very brown will flourish and grow back beautifully green and if Nature has safeguarded herself in between the showers and seasons and is just resting now ready to emerge with a flourish and bow when Spring comes around and things start to grow if it does then we will all know that the rain, the glorious rain did the trick and more we need to keep things looking slick as Nature recovers from her own delays of making it rain on more than one day.
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 12/01/2011
Danny, Abigail and Mini.
Her race has run and Mini is with her Maker
She took one last walk around the garden where she found peace in the splashing sound of water.
I thought for a while that she was better but no she quickly relapsed back into the sorry little dog she had become.
So I cried as I put her in the car as the journey is not far and to the Vet’s we drove.
Jillian, the Tec’ who works for the Vet and many times had Mini seen met me at my car to take Mini inside and understanding did give me a hug and told me how sorry she was.
At that point I lost it and my tears did flow and Jillian hung on to me as if to show how much she knew how I cared for that dog.
I recovered enough to thank her for her caring and sat in the car as she walked to the door carrying Mini. My tears flowed some more but I took a deep breath and drove about my business. The deed was done and no amount of wishing was going to change that and neither it should as Mini was going to a far better place free of the pain and pills and shots, back with Manley her friend in this life before as Jillian closed the door.
I went back home and dug the hole next to the grave where Manley found peace so that at least alone not she would be as she lay in the cold, cold ground.
I went back to the Vet and made the call and Pam carried Mini to the car in a box where she would spend eternity in the grave next to her friend, Manley.
Although Mini’s chapter is wrote it would not be complete if I didn’t say thanks to all of her friends at the Vet’s where she spent so much of her time
Dr Donop was especially kind and understanding a man is he along with Jillian and Pam and the others too who did everything they could to give Mini a life as free as was possible considering the strife that her body did put her through.
To the ladies who greeted me with a smile and made conversation to make it worth while all the visits that Mini and I did share showing that they all did care that Mini was special and in their hearts, they were wishing that a better life Mini would eventually find
But Alas it was not to be now Mini will live in Eternity, along with her Maker who we all know has a place for all dogs and kitties too in that place on high called Animal Heaven.
With Thanks and Gratitude to my friends at Oak Springs Veterinary Diagnostic Hospital.
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 11/28/2011
I have this friend and truth to say I have known her for many a day, twelve years or more have we been friends and every Thanksgiving I do spend, time with her and her family and friends who the same ones it seems are always present to enjoy the way she likes to spend Thanksgiving day.
We were introduced by a mutual friend who its clear just wanted us near to see if in fact we could become friends and would like each others company enough to spend time together with our thoughts and minds as we grace this lonely world as two of a kind.
Some of our interests are the same, we both like dogs and who can blame us for doing so but truth to tell her dogs compete with other dogs when they meet at special events of the kind where the dogs run and jump and do entwine themselves between poles and over the jumps on seesaws and through tunnels do run and truth to tell they are having fun and always showing them the way, my friend is running and working hard as they travel the course both trainer and dog.
My dogs on the other hand are of lazy mind, couch potatoes of the worst possible kind, the only time when they do run is when the call for food is sung by the man of the house who shares his life with dogs of a different kind. I do have one little dog who it seems is subject to having impossible dreams as he tries to climb trees the squirrels to catch but in the end gives up in despair and barks his fool head off until it seems he can’t match the squirrels so its useless to try and a waste of time climbing trees so high like a squirrel or fly in the sky like the buzzards on high which he runs and chases whenever he sees them as they glide and dive on spirals unseen but to him it’s the impossible dream.
We did not spend Thanksgiving alone as the rest of the people who did come, are friends and acquaintances that come every year to celebrate and give thanks and good cheer to eat good food, turkey and such and pies of the most fattening kind much conversations to hold with people at the table, talk and opinions and to be able to relax with good friends, memories and more food until no more can we eat and then we do dawdle over coffee to finish the time at the table.
It seems that pre dinner conversation is fine and the people relax as they greet and exchange all the news and events that has happened to them and the urge to engage so that all may know is real strong in a couple of them so the rest of the friends they do meet and pass along what they have discrete or otherwise it matters not as the conversation flows that those here for dinner and who will not only be fed but will also be wiser.
When dinner is over and the dishes are clean, food is divided to take home to feed others in their households if they need it or not as too much food our host does not want as she can only eat just so much and a lot is left over as is usually the way when friends get together on Thanksgiving day.
I thank my friend for inviting me and sharing her house and her table that we can talk with our friends and merry shall be as we give thanks that we are here one more year to celebrate this Thanksgiving Day cheer.
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 11/12/2011
Canoe on the Lake
I sat on the bank of Ladybird Lake and marveled at the things I saw. Couples in their rented canoes were meandering up and down in twos or more seemingly with no purpose in mind except to find peace and solitude of the quiet kind. The people were of various sizes and shapes and were made up of everything that it takes from friends to lovers, kids and their Dad, trying their best a good time to be had. Some even had a dog or two, sitting in the boat with a look on the dog’s face, the look that says, see me now, I’m with my family and they didn’t forget to include me in this trip on Ladybird Lake.
Further up is the Boating Club more serious about the things that they love. The scullers in small boats made for one, rowing hard and pushing themselves, trying to see if their time they can beat as they row till they can row no more, then only then do they give it up sure that tomorrow will bring better luck.
The doubles are also working hard, they row as a team doing their best to make progress down the Lake at the very best speed that they are able as they find the need to compete this time not against each other for as a team they must work together but instead that ever ticking clock is their target.
Then we get to the really big boats with eight people rowing keeping afloat, rowing in unison to the beat of the helmsman as he moves forward and back and steers the boat in a very straight track for any deviation in course will add time to this crew as they row down the Lake, their effort showing on their face as they push the oars into the water and bend their backs and their legs go straight with each dip of the oar into the Lake.
What’s that over there, a Heron I see fishing in the shallow water at the side of the Lake in an area in which he can wade and he stands there so patiently until something swims by and as quick as a flash in the blink of an eye he has plunged his long beak into the Lake and comes up with a fish and with years of long practice turns the fish until he is able to swallow the fish all in one piece. Then he resumes his pose maybe taking a step or two, waiting again for the next juicy morsel that may swim by his legs quick and flash he does it again.
There are a pair of beautiful white swans, so regal and majestic as they swim on by. They have made this Lake a home for a while and a nest they have built which to the untrained eye looks like a pile of deadwood and sticks, it looks like it will float away but the swans are experts in what they do and the nest remains year after year requiring a little patching or two in the Spring and then it is ready for them to resume raising their family and add a cygnet or two. Late in the summer, it is an awesome sight to see this family of swans together as they swim up and down looking for food as the parents are showing the young what to do in order to grow into big swans like themselves to eventually fly away from the nest until they are able to find, a mate of their own and a nest they will build and so it goes on year after year as Nature in all of her wonder is clear that life must go on in the way she has planned it to happen, day by day.
One of the beauties of Ladybird Lake is that no swimmers may take their place in the water for it is decreed, no swimming allowed even if you are able and if you are caught, the penalty will be a fine disproportionately high for daring to swim in Ladybird Lake. No boats with motors are allowed to spoil the peace and tranquility that can be found on the banks of this gem in the heart of the city some people say it’s a pity but others of those with nature in mind, those that enjoy the peace and tranquility have deemed that it must be so. For this we are grateful as we sit on the bank, keeping an eye on the beauty of LadyBird Lake.
The days are long and my heart is cold thoughts of Richie are NOT growing old as quickly as I want them to be to lift the weight of grief in me.
I worked outside around the shed the area that the snake had hid waiting probably in fear as he watched the little dog draw near.
Poised and ready no rattle to warn a natural reaction for which it was born striking the dog to preserve its life as the law of the wild provokes such strife.
Richie let out an almighty roar a sound I had never heard before as he flew out from under the shed knowing that he was already dead.
He looked at me with his big brown eyes pleading for help with no disguise as I rushed him to my local vet who worked to save my little pet.
Alas for it was not to be as he died the next day peacefully and I brought him home in a box my faith in God forever lost.
I blame myself for Richie’s death for not cleaning out from under the shed and leaving a place for the snake to hide from the dog exploring with curious eyes.
Everywhere out in the garden I see traces and memories of what used to be holes dug here and a dirt pile there and trails through the plants leading who knows where.
Even though there are Ginny and Pete their personalities do not compete and are different in the ways they shine and cannot replace what’s left behind.
Maybe I should get another pet one that likes to dig and yet it would never be the same even with the very same name.
So all that remains is for me to heal knowing that I will always feel love for the little dog that I lost as I remain behind to bear the cost.
If the Gods are kind to me one day I hope that I will be with Richie in another life one where there is no strife and pets never do grow old its called “The Rainbow Bridge” so I am told.
Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 10/05/2011
It came on to rain at my house today the dogs who had all gone out to play came rushing back in with fear in their eyes and it took me a while to realize they had not seen rain for months and months and for them, this strange phenomenon this wet stuff falling from the skies was hard for them to realize that Mother Nature, after all this time was showing them the way it should be and that one hundred degree days are now history and with one stroke of her brush, one wave of her wand we may be making up for lost time and more, much more of this wet stuff we’ll see as this summer goes down in history as the hottest on record since records were kept and that humans who for losses had wept that now it is Fall and with any luck much more of the wet stuff will come our way to make up for the small amount today.
We humans think we are so smart with our historical resources and our art our technical skills and our flight to the moon and all the other things that soon makes us top dog on this planet called Earth and yet, we do not have the final say when it comes to things not going our way Mother Nature is the controlling force using her might as a resource to bring on the rain and other things too, thunder, lightning all the bad stuff as if to say, “Rain is not enough wait and see what I have in store” before you start asking for more.
We humans are so feeble and puny when Mother Nature vents her fury we are but pawns in this great game of life as we struggle and strain to manage the strife that Mother Nature can bring and we have little control over what it is she decides for us all but wait, life is so very sweet and with this in mind we keep getting ready to face insurmountable odds what each day brings, whatever the cost we can do it, we can, we will not live in fear as with nature, we have learned life is dear and we will live each day on this earth, without strife as though it’s the first day of the rest of our life.
For tomorrow brings another day and hopefully rain will come our way.
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 11/08/2011
Time, what is it and what does it mean for some it’s just a part of the dream of what we do with our time on this earth, how we spend it and what is it worth to us as individuals and what we do with it everyday in our own individual way.
For many work is the biggest thing, it takes most of our time and so it should for not only do we earn payment from the work that we do but we also give back in the form of our toil whatever it is that the company does which makes it worthwhile for them pay money for each working day that we spend at their location performing that which is our current vocation.
Now it has to be said that not many of us say without dread that the place that we work and the job that we do is something that we really enjoy or the job that we have may not well be suited but in fact is a way and a means to help us with our impossible dreams of living a life with money we earn and so we are able to put bread on the table to feed our family and wife who is able and it should be said has probably a job of her own and as is often the case that earns more than her hubby creating dissent of who really wears the pants in that family.
If the guy is smart and acts submissive and in fact be grateful that the person he married is willing and able to put money in the bank and put food on the table. On the other hand an idiot he may be wrapped up in the fact that he earns less money than she and instead of making the most of the situation the marriage falls apart and suddenly he finds that has a lot of extra time to do with as he pleases, in fact time on his hands.
Time is also a measurement of people and how long they live of almost every sporting event when the last few minutes may decide who wins, who loses, who lives, who dies. Well, that is the way that it used to be in the days of the Romans when winners were toasted and those that lost were sometimes slaughtered.
Time can be long and time can be short depending on if it’s south or north or east or west, time is something we know best. We can’t be late, must be on time, to be late is almost a terrible crime unless of the weaker sex you may be when it is considered fashionable at best to be a few minutes late just to see how patient your partner may be especially if it is a new mate and he or she is being put to the test to see how they react and the rest may well be history.
Women, on the other hand are not quite so insistent and time means less to them in their life especially if they are somebody’s wife. The household runs in a more leisurely style with being late the norm and on time is something that happens once in a while.
Time for a planet or for a star is measured in light years with so many zeros it is hard to grasp how old they may be but have been in existence for eternity. Time for a human can be measured in digits with less than three in most cases with the odd exception and quite a rarity someone will reach a hundred and something.
Of one thing I am sure it is time to end as I can think of a bunch of things to add and yet the subject can be quite tricky as no one thinks that in a jiffy our time on this earth will be up and we can no longer think in terms of time…
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 11/08/2011
The old man lay in his bed not moving much except in his head. His thoughts were whirling round and round as he remembered things and places, thoughts of oh so long ago when he was young and all the faces of those he had known he tried to recall but alas his memory could not relate to all of those whose fate he did not know or those of him as between them many years had passed and for this old man would soon be the last. For most of his friends were already gone to that distant place beyond where old men go when they are through with this life here on earth.
The old man lay in his bed thinking of all of the pets he had over the years they came in all sizes, dogs and cats, horses with bridles, saddles for riding and then there was Zippo, his faithful old horse who was just like a dog, would follow him around and nuzzle him looking for goodies and hand outs of the kind that only horses find, good enough to eat. Zippo lived to be thirty six years old and right at the end his spirit was strong and only the ravages of time slowed him down and he died in the arms of his long time friend.
The old man lay in his bed and wondered of the wives he had had when he was much younger, of the good times and bad, their beauty and grace, the way they moved that caused him to ponder and think of them then not just as women but of someone who he would like to be living for the rest of his life but as it turns out, he is alone in his bed with his thoughts as things did not go as planned and each of them left for a different life no more to be his wife and not here to comfort him as he lay die-ing on the bed.
The old man lay in his bed and his thoughts turned to the life he had led when he was younger much younger and his skill on the fields with a soccer ball that to him meant more than work or women or any of those things that make living on earth a part of the dreams of success but to him his greatest wish that was not forthcoming was to be a player with skills so outstanding that everyone knew his name.So he did what he knew he could do and that was to share a part of him to coach little kids in the arts of playing that wonderful game that had given him pleasure and was so much of his leisure. He hoped that this part of his journey was not wasted and that the kids he taught would go on to greatness not necessarily with a ball at their feet but life in general as they get to meet all of things that life throws at them and as they grow into men, somewhere in their memories are thoughts of the old man who lay die-ing whose race was run and who handed the baton to them.
The old man lay in his bed and remembered when he was a lad how irresistible were members of the opposite sex and how good or bad were his encounters with so many of them over the years. It has to be said that all were most willing and captivated by the charm he had then and even if a husband they had were ready to a take a chance to spend some time with this interesting man who it has to be said faced the wrath of of the man, the husband of this particular wife who for whatever reason was out and about and looking to seize on any man who gave them a glance and who was willing to take the chance.
The old man lay in his bed and lifted the covers so that he could see his body and how wasted it was no muscles not much more than skin and bone and he remembered when his body was a beautiful sight with muscles that were taut and tight that rippled at the slightest movement of the time when he could run like a deer and jump so high that he felt he was flying in the sky. He remembers that as time moved on, how much harder he worked to keep the shape he used to be in. Muscles turned to fat where before the muscles rippled under his skin. Alas no more would this old man be a thing of beauty for all to see instead the covers on the bed were pulled up high as far as his head so that the shrunken body soon would be and a thing of history.
The old man lay on the bed his thoughts turned to what would happen when eventually he would breath his last breath and he hoped that in the end, his passing would be no more than a formality and people would mourn at his funeral and say he was a good man and boy could he play for it has to be said that this old man now dead would be remembered most for the life he had led on the soccer fields daring to create strife with those around him both good and bad and all the friends he had would say he tried hard to make others see the way, the difference between the night and the day and the wonderful life that he had.
The old man lay on the bed and thought, what time is it I need to be up. I have things to do people to see a life to live and more memories to create as this is another wonderful day and look it’s raining now that’s a switch, that’s good that’s great as we could use the rain to make things grow, make things green was that a horrible dream I just had or a premonition of things to come. Who cares, todays just begun and I intend to enjoy it as though it’s my last to hell with things that are in my past. When the day comes that I am due to meet my maker and hope its true that he looks kindly at an old sinner like me.
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 11/07/2011
Can I play?Put me in coach.
It was a very windy day when the little boys came out to play their last league game of the season and though the wind was part of the reason that we managed to lose to a team, who, like us do dream of playing well and having a good time and hoping that their coach tells them that they played fine and it was a good game today.
These are the things that I said to the boys when after the game we sat around and talked of the joys of winning but better yet, and something we should not forget, the fun we had when we played today, the things that we did and in their own way, make up for losing four goals to two.
The two goals we scored were a joy to watch as Ian Shaw got on his horse and running hard and fleet of foot did place the ball beyond the reach of the other team’s goalie and in the net to bring us back from two nothing down to even the score and we thought we had a found a way to beat this other team today.
Alas it was not to be and although the boys tried mightily to tie the game up and playing hard, put shots on goal and defended well but at three to two, the score it seems was within in our reach but the impossible dream was shattered when in a desperate moment with the ball rebounding all over the place, did hit one of our players in the face and into the empty net it flew to let the other team win by four goals to two.
We talked about it after the game and we all agreed that as a team we played as well as we possibly could and that we should have played better but that it really didn’t matter because as a team we had fun today, we played with our team mates, our buddies and friends which makes it all worthwhile and better yet, lets see what goodies we have today, before we wend on our merry way home with our families, our Moms and Dads, our sisters and brothers, our dog and our cat and all the good things that go with that and having friends on our soccer team is a bonus in life as it should be.
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 10/17/2011
We had another game today, a game we won, I’m happy to say, The boys all played so very well, they gave their Parents quite a thrill, The score itself was four to two, goals scored by different players who, all worked so hard and played as a team, in order to keep up the dream, Of one day a really good player to be, while trying to please their family, Families of which there are two, one at home of the regular kind, who with a Mom and Dad and maybe you’ll find, a brother and sister, a siblings or two, while the other are the boys who make up the team, who play together with the improbable dream, of one day seeing their name in lights, and climbing the most impossible heights, but for now satisfied they will be, to record a win for both families, The one at home comfortable and warm, and the one at the soccer field, noisy and loud, a bunch of young boys, team mates and proud, to be, a member of this soccer family.
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 10/10/2011
I sat around at home today, wondering what I need do and say, as I know there is no way, as its hard to imagine that caught up I may be, or who is it that I need to call, or e-mail or blog, I’m counting them all and yet, there is something troubling me, what it is I cannot yet recall. Darn this forgetful memory.
If I wait long enough it will return, or a walk to the other room, my doubts to affirm, that something, just something needs to be done. There is no way that it could possibly be, that I am caught up and my time is free, to pursue whatever it is that strikes me.
Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 10/05/2011
What, you say, what makes this day any different in any way well, for starters, I awoke which is the best known way to start the day.
I lay for a while my mind in a whirl what day is this as my mind plays tricks is it Sunday or Monday or some other day I’ll figure it out along the way as we get ready to start another day
I look around and check the room two cats, five dogs all ready to play get up, they say, for this is the way we want to start every day.
At the age seventy-six, life has a way of playing tricks. If for some reason, my eyes do not open when normally they should, I would have to assume that in the night, my soul has gone for good.
Where it has gone I would not know neither would I assume, that all my life there has not been strife enough to suggest that at the very best where will I have eternal rest
No, it may well be that in my life I have done enough good to equal the strife created over the years.
So, if in the morning, I do not wake will it be because of mistakes that over the years I have made. or will it be that my time is up and this old body has suffered enough and is taking its final rest.
Ah, you say, what a beautiful day the sun shines bright giving us light to do the things that life holds for us on this, another day.
Let’s see, what day is this, I have to think about the things that I need to do. If I don’t get the days correct, then a mess I will be in, that’s true
Well, I have finally figured out the day and the things to do along the way like feed my pets as I usually do make breakfast for me and coffee too like I have done many times before same old things, but who keeps score as long as I wake in the usual way then every day is a beautiful day.
