The sky was a sunny blue above the treeless plain;
The wind was a quiet flowing howl above the soft terrain;
The field was a twinkling emerald wet with the mornin's dew;
And the soccerman came running-
Running--running--
The soccerman came running, with his eyes a solemn blue.
He'd a red bandana above his brow, a gold chain round his neck;
A uniform of blue and gold, with not a dirty speck;
The flawless suit worn perfectly, his cleats shimmered in the light;
And he strode with an eagerness,
He jogged with an eagerness,
His face shown with an eagerness, ready for a fight.
Over the green grass he seemed to float under the warm sun;
Towards the ball, with uncanny grace in a speedy run;
Not one noise did he let loose as he moved across the ground;
But his opponents' biggest defenseman,
Alas, his opponents' defenseman,
Was an obstacle he must get around.
And quick the soccerman dribbled the ball to the defender's right;
Where there was no one to challenge him, no one to put up a fight;
He began his forward stride again where the goal did await;
But the quickly moving defenseman,
The annoying, persistent defenseman,
The unrelenting defenseman again jumped in the player's way.
Again the soccerman eluded the obstacle that stood along his path;
And towards the goal he charged again where the goalkeeper would feel his wrath.
With stabbing speed the player rushed, determination in his eyes;
Crashing towards the goal in the sunlight;
Tearing towards the goal in the sunlight;
He dribbled the ball towards the goal in the sunlight, not hearing the spectators' cries.
Through observant eyes he studied his prey, noticing where the goalkeeper stayed;
He analyzed the open net and where the ball would be played;
With delicate precision he took aim and then he set;
And the soccerman shot it-
Shot it -- shot it --
The soccerman shot it, towards the open net.
As the ball hit its mark, he let loose a triumphant scream;
He strode back towards the midfield line where he was welcomed by his team.
With a cheery look of pride he knew his job was done;
Thus the noble soccerman,
No doubt the noble soccerman;
Because of the noble soccerman, the soccer game was won.
The sky was a sunny blue above the treeless plain;
The wind was a quiet flowing howl above the soft terrain;
The field was a twinkling emerald wet with the mornin's dew;
Where the soccerman was running-
Running --running --
Where the soccerman was running, with his eyes a solemn blue.
Poem by Stephen Kulik |
