POEM about SWANWICK PENTRICH ROAD FC...

Swanwick Pentrich Road

Hidden.

Even the access street

Shrank

From the Pentrich Road,

Which, in turn, withered into a sunlit track,

Opening eventually into a concise parking space

And a clubhouse, a shack to be frank:

Swanwick FC, where my presence was bidden…

Intrigued

By the tight, clustered

Proximity

Of the outbuildings,

Which nestled, puckered in sunlight’s glare,

Opening earnestly upon an undulating field

And shelters and dining chairs, incongruously:

Swanwick FC, where a fascination was conceived…

And I had a shrinking feeling

Of length and width and time;

The plateau on an uneven pitch

Offered accurate passing no reason or rhyme;

The shrinking of daylight and the thinking

Of a referee, nervously predicting

Summer’s natural lustre with dusk would fade,

Resulted in an early, hurried start,

And with a crowded surface playing its part,

Only eighty of the prescribed ninety minutes were played…

Pete Ray

21-08-2014

Swanwick Pentrich Road: a first intriguing visit.

Small pitch, an itchy, time-conscious official and lots of tall players, which caused the game to look like a match in a dense forest at times…

Loved it.