The Box or Road End

This is a poem about me. I went to my first Liverpool F.C game in 1987 and my first Widnes R.L.F.C game in 1983. So aged 3 and 7 them memories etch into your brain. A right of passage what ever you go onto. Know one can take your teams away from you. I was lucky enough to spend time in a recent exhibition in Oriel Mostyn in Llandudno. I the presence of a Box used by artist Gareth Griffiths to take his son’s to match at Anfield. The power of ‘The Box’ moved me…

Thanks for sharing it with us Gareth!


Road End

Not my White box.

Someone else’s vantage point,

chips hold stories,

celebration, sadness, glory.

On that afternoon,

like a full stop,

alone it stood,

together, raised scarfs taught.

Your words made me feel 9

The feeling surrounds me lots of looking up.

The raised rim on a plastic flask mug.

The floor touching my feet through worn souls.

The Safety and smells of cut grass before me.

Winter cold rattles my mittens.

Floodlight halo’s dot my eyes.

Barbwire fences brown glass spikes.

Thousands packed in tight.

Now I’m back and still no connection?

Just know I’ve been there.

A time so much simpler?

Black and white Red or blue…

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