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Tell The Spectators

I was breezed like a ball by a striker
And caught by the giant net on the goal axis
Danced in the bearing of bisector of the poles
With the keeper standing aloof at the perilous angle
With her eyes on the net, when I was dancing
In a conduct of a spiral degree on the elevation in a mass of wave
I sat on the parallel line in the bottom of the net alone
Geometrically, sleeping in the basket of voices
That traveled like electron.

In the acute of the striker; I moved in a protractive manner
To the centre line, there, I started movement
To everywhere no one can tell
I moved in my direction but not her direction
She rubbed me lightly on the surface to keep me in shape,
When I sagged her cloth with my robust skin,
With a touch of water
Confusedly; I ran out of the field to a safety hands
Which blew the final whistle.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
My father symbolized the player. My mother is the goalkeeper. My father dribbled and scored a goal which I referred to (the poet) When I was in her stomach till I was born, was the second stanza of the poem. It's irony.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Not tremendously well. I’m what you’d call a hack with a boot. I eat yellow cards in the first 10 minutes to show I’m not F ing around. Lol. At least I did when I was young.

Definitely a really original idea. I’ll be back for another look.

Nice one,
Tim

I like your comment.
Thanks.

"Words are currency of ideas and have the power to change world. Ride your pen on the rough road."

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