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My Last Soccer Game

by Colleen Millsteed 4 months ago in performance poetry · updated 4 months ago
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Now my head hangs in defeat

Image courtesy of Pixabay

Adidas boots, along with black and white ball

The age old sport of soccer, a team player,

I love this game, dream this game, practice

Every spare minute, I’m the team’s goal slayer.

***

I race down the street, the ball rolling in time

A tap with my left foot, then a tap with my right,

Rounding the corner, anticipated excitement

As the professional soccer field comes into sight.

***

I know it’s late, the sky around me pitch black

I didn’t really expect the lights to be a-blazing,

In fact, the sight meeting my eyes is perfection

The ball spinning across the field, it’s amazing.

***

I head towards the centre, pretending I’m famous

A swerve or two, a race down the field to the goal,

I line it up and score as the ball flies into the net

Certain I hear the roar of the fans, I miss the pole.

***

I throw my hands in the air, bowing to the crowd

As I ease the ball back to the field’s centre zone,

I face off to the challengers, as I win the ball again

Scoring another goal as the other team groans.

***

If only this was true and not my imagination

As my dream to be the best ever soccer player,

I hear the noise around me, the field’s in light

My future career as a well known ballplayer.

***

I spin in a circle, caught up in my day dreaming

Accepting the accolade as they scream my name,

I bow and grin, while my feet juggles that ball

Until it disappeared, booted by a foot in flames.

***

I stand still totally shocked, did that just happen

As I search for the ball now at the opposing goal,

It’s glowing a brilliant white, lighting the surrounds

I turn to tell the player, that’s my ball you stole.

***

Only there’s no one there, not a person in sight

Just this solo foot, flaming in an Adidas shoe,

A foot covered in white, with three black stripes

I’ve got to still be dreaming or I’m insane too.

***

No, it’s there in front of my eyes, moving away

As it follows the trail of the bright glowing ball,

I move to intercept it and slowly gain the lead

As the competition becomes a fast free-for-all.

***

Over the next hour or so, we flew around the oval

That flaming foot, giving me a run for my money,

As we played in all seriousness, determined to win

I’ll not be beaten by a foot, that’s not at all funny.

***

But maybe it’s time for me to hang up my dreams

As that flaming, glowing foot was too good to beat,

I headed on home, my heart irreparably broken

A foot, can you believe, as I hang my head in defeat.

************************************************

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Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.

If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.

Originally posted on Medium

performance poetry

About the author

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

Reader insights

Nice work

Very well written. Keep up the good work!

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  1. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  2. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  3. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

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    Arguments were carefully researched and presented

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    Writing reflected the title & theme

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Comments (7)

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  • G.B. Veen3 months ago

    Innovative and well written

  • Cathy holmes4 months ago

    That was fun. Well done.

  • Am I the only one who thought this poem was gonna be about a boy who lost his leg but he could still play with a prosthetic leg? 🤣 Anyway, loved your poem! 💖

  • I do love your poetry , great read

  • Michelle Truman4 months ago

    Love it!

  • Nice poem!

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