I Will Not Cry

As ‘tempo’ sniffs out glamour off the pitch To become fine ashes of memory out of lively reach I will not shed sullen tears rather I shall take solace In the fragment of him in my heart, which shall not be discoloured by time That which yet kicks priceless fascination And say ‘woe betide biology & time’. I'll no longer stand in my kitchen Gazing at stolen appetite with perfunctorily-fasted-out eye-sockets, Overfed by the Madeira magic; oh, a flash of the frisky Spanish tears! The arrest of dying minutes A felony of a goal The hearts that jumped to the lips Of the world. A tale that'll only perish if the world does Fellow aficionado, cry not! For I, too, shall not allow tears to escape Tears bore; memories allure El Bilcho does bows out The insect, who pricked nature, stole a stubborn stare at artistry; Arrogance that alliterated grandiose beauty! And stretched arms of excitement to the grumpy world I'll rejoice & ply the moments with gaudy esteem. A chin & pupil that dilates For an ecstasy that held my broken nights But where did the time go? I'll not cry! That Sepp Blatter nightmare Walks out so quickly, leaving me With memories in museums. I'll not cry! And if you find these words Do not cry, too. Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro. Poetry! The commander; came & left as the Greatest.