Football Poets

We Welcome in June ….

In June we welcomed the following new contributors :

Tim Bannon
Steve Porter
Sean Kelly
Julie Swinden
bhuchung d. sonam
Chris Butcher
Helen Nicholson
Mark Kelly
Mike Eyles
Michael Shepherd
Annette Smith
Nick Woodall
Janet Clare
Carolyn J Edwards
Adam Plano
Chris Crouch
Paul Jones
Pete Hunter
Donna Brazier
Prasad T J
Adrian Wait
Keith Armstrong
Lillian Parr
Sean Vail

Also a welcome back to Adam Horovitz, one of the original Stroud Football Poets I believe?

In June, we welcomed the following schools :

St Catherines primary school, Wigan
Nichola Harrower
Lewis Winrow
Michael Belshaw
Adam Reeves
Lauren Prescott
Samantha Culshaw
Shannon Dunn

Wickersley school
Val Beaumont
Bethany Massingham
Reece Roberts
Stephanie Mappin
Garan Preece
Joe Hilton
Amy Holmes
Chloe Swann & Charlie Baum
Olivia Neal
Rachael Colton
Jodine Brittle & Lori-Anne
Ryan Carr
Lily Roberts
Lucy Roberts
Matt Britton
Amy Pinkard
(I’ve assumed that Wick school is a shortened version of Wickersley, my apologies if it isn’t)

Boldmere Junior
Georgia James
Charlotte Heath
Katie Kane
Charlotte Heath
Georgia James
Amber Cruise

Elgin High
Vince Jones

Little Heath primary
Humeira Rafiq

Pilsley Primary
M S Graham

St Thomas Moorside
Year 3/4

Newstead Primary School
Samantha Lockett

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Some examples of the new poems, follow :

Etymology of British Football Clubs

Some have been around since Roman times:
Hibernian, Caledonian and numerous Albions.
Heart of Midlothian evolved from a novel,
Tottenham Hotspur have a comic book name.
One club gets a mention in The Bible:
The Queen of the South shall rise again,
Doonhamers are waiting for this to come true.
Princess Alexandra once changed trains at Crewe.
Others struggle due to geographical negligence –
Plymouth Argyle for instance.

© Steve Porter 2006

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A Modern Miracle

Two thousand years after the last one was seen
A miracle was sent Earthwards to help out the England team
“I can walk,” said Rooney, throwing away his support
And he set off for Germany via Manchester airport
Sven Erikson was happy Rooney was on his way
Thankful that one team member hadn’t got feet of clay
His expression of happiness soon changed to pain
When Mickey Rooney turned up instead of Wayne

© Michael D Eyles 2006

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Englands Glory
These are the days when we wear our pride
like banners, like religion
a certainty greater that life or death

it’s on the streets, in the air
snatching and whipping
in cavalcades and fleets of dignity

it’s on the faces of strangers
connecting with other strangers

our colours blended, unified
fused in the science of red and white
our guts or glory hope
that this time, this time. . .

In years gone by we felt the same
hanging on the edge of faith
as if prayers could make us kings

and fresh and sweet
the taste of hope still strong
that this year, this year
it’s coming home

the crown for England’s glory.

© Carolyn J Edwards
I wrote this specifically for the World Cup. A lot of my inspiration came from memories of 1990, when I was in my last year at Uni & really got into the spirit!

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World Cup Shopping

With platinum credit cards ready, to town they go.
All of Baden Baden are now in shock, you know!
Great amounts spent a staggering, fifty seven K
So hope the footballers, are locked well away!
Look to these six, it’s not a lot to spend.
In fact it’s little, when shopping for a wife or girlfriend.
Fantasy life style lived out, by a chosen few.
England you must win now, to pay what’s due.

© Annette Smith

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Peter Crouch (I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor)

If you pass it to Beckham, maybe he’ll pass it back to you
Or maybe to Owen and then we’ll see what Michael can do
You’re a tall geezer
A real defence teaser
With your long skinny limbs, you’re all elbows and knees
We don’t care how you do it, just put it in the net please.

I bet that you look good on the dancefloor
Are you gonna fluff this chance or
Are you gonna score?
I bet that you look good on the dancefloor
Dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984
From 1984!

I wish you’d eat more mate, because it’s sending me to despair
You’re all skin and bone, yeah, but I guess you’re quite good in the air
You look like a dimbo
With your limbs all akimbo
But at six foot seven, and only eight stone
There’s a chance you could help the team bring the cup home.

And, I bet that you look good on the dancefloor
Are you gonna fluff this chance or
Are you gonna score?
I said, I bet that you look good on the dancefloor
Dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984
From 1984!

© peter hunter 2006

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Angels Playing Football

Sprinkle my ashes on St. James’s Park,
Fragments of goals on the grass.
Hear the Gallowgate roar in the dark.
All of my dreams came to pass.

Pass me my memories,
Pass me the days,
Pass me a ball and I’ll play:

Play with the angels,
Play on their wings,
Play in the thunder and lightning.

I leave you these goals in my will,
Snapshots of me on the run.
I leave you these pieces of skill,
Moments of me in the sun.

Pass me my memories,
Pass me the days,
Pass me a ball and I’ll play:

Play with the angels,
Play on their wings,
Play in the thunder and lightning.

© keith armstrong 2006

Some weeks before he died in 1988, the legendary Newcastle United footballer Jackie Milburn was sitting in his Ashington home with a grand-daughter on his knee. Outside, there was thunder and lightning, which frightened the wee girl: ‘What’s that noise?’, she asked her grandad anxiously. ‘Don’t worry’, ‘Wor Jackie’ replied, ‘It’s just the angels playing football.’

It was this incident which inspired the following poem, given added poignancy by the placing of an Alan Shearer shirt on the notorious Gateshead Angel’s prodigious back by local fans before the 1998 F.A. Cup Final!

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Iron Ring

Like an Iron ring in Germany
It is boiling in the sky
Only thirty two can pass through it
Others are turning eyes against them
To see who will capture the world crown
May be the crushing Ro-Ro combination
Or the home land will break the iron ring
Soft whispers of Argentineans may be true
Breezes of Berlin may boost Italy
Years of silence can speak for England
Spanish fighters may smile first time
Astonishing events can expect from the green rectangles
Giving a Magnificent inspiration to eyes with a
Glorious feast of exceptional skills and intelligent movements
Flow of red cards from referees pockets
Goddess of fortune may help to change the dimensions of shoot-outs
Cheerful, funny celebrations from winners
Sign of sadness may reflect in losers faces
Iridescent effusion of national flowers from the crowd
While pigeons of Germany exchange the peaceful message
With the remarkable spirit of football
For us nothing else was strange
Because we are the great fans of that
Delicious game with sylphs face and angelic foot

© Prasad T J, KERALA,THS
THIS IS COMPLETELY BASED ON THE 2006 GERMANY WORLD CUP
BY COMPARING WORLD CUP WITH A IRON RING

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singing to support

Singing to support,
singing at stockport,
singing for your club,
singing in a pub,
singing on train,
singing in the rain,
singing when away,
singing everyday,
for i shall sing,
the songs to sing,
to support them all the way!

© Sean Vail
up the shakers – bury till i die !

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Memories of the Day

Granddad sitting on a chair from the kitchen
Sharing pearls of wisdom about the Jerries
Either at your feet or your throat
Their first goal added to descriptions
Watching in black and white
Granddad added the colour
Those who score first, seldom win
Overplays in my mind
Until we equalise
Too and fro, Hurst shoots
…Goal
The house ignites
Then the ball hits a defender
Hangs in the air
Peters strikes…thump
We’re winning…we’re winning
Physical Excitement
Collapses into nervousness
Hong long, how long now
Jack stretches and heads
German falls to the floor
Free kick, free kick…never
Hammered into the box
Peter, Stiles, Charlton turn
Wilson stretches, deflects
Off the back of a German
The ball hangs in the air,
Caught in time,
A nation gasps, space opens,
naked net begs intrusion
Banks falls like a tree
Silence, cold silence
They equalise, how dare they
It’s our day, Our cup
Final whistle blows
Brothers paper round calls
He doesn’t want to go
I merge with the carpet
Half-knowing what is to come
He can’t go alone
It’s not fair… What!
But, I’ll miss extra time
I watch has he wanders
Grudgingly up the Rise
Conscience suitable pricked
I go to join him
Half way round
Throwing papers through
Half opened doors
I hear the cheers
‘Cum in…cum in’
We’ve scored…we’ve scored
I watch the strangers telly
Ball strikes ball
Hurst turns, shoots and falls
Strikes the bar, rockets down
Hunt raises his arm
Defender heads the ball
over the bar, corner?, goal?
Referee tell us please
Speaks to linesman
Whistle to lips
Points to centre
It’s a goal, a Goal
Germans don’t like it
I leave to tell Greg
We meet in the middle
Of the empty street
We’ve scored, we’ve scored
Vainly we hope to finish
To see the last moments at home
Yards from home
The street explodes in cheers
Doors fly open
Another invite
This time together
In a strange house
We watch Hurst
Run, and run and bang
There were people on the pitch
They thought it was over
BANG….it was now…
It was weird to cheer
And dance in a strange home
To grab each other and jump
Literally for joy…I cried
Home in time to see
Nobby’s toothless skip
Joy, warm summer day
What happiness endured
The Memories of the Day.

© A.R. Wait
Memories of the Day – World Cup Final 1966
At the end of normal time my brother had to do his paper round
I was roped in to help – We were delivering newspapers during the extra-time period. This poem captures some of the memories of the day.

A.R. Wait

(11yrs of age in the Summer of 66)

June 2006.

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