A weekend of sport, well watching it on the television.
My days of running round after a ball are long over.
I can still enjoy the emotional ebb and flow as the game progresses,
And admire the skill on display.
The art inside me
The art inside me starts to chip at my shell.
But whether a soaring bird of beauty or an ugly flightless dodo the cracks do not yet reveal
[Martyn Cooper c.1985]
Living life vicariously
Living life vicariously,
And in the memories of times past.
Hearing the rails of others at their over-activity,
While struggling with how long my days last.
I would often pontificate,
Avowing “being” over “doing”.
Now, I see how those two are never easy to separate.
I am found in my undertaking.
Being from many parts is cut;
Life has formed mine in its procession.
What am I looking for? Not praise, power, or glory, but,
For that being to find expression.
[Martyn Cooper, December 2016]