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Alex Saynor

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    Alex Saynor commented on a poem on Football Poets 1 week, 6 days ago

    Thank you, Graham – much appreciated. Your poems are always highlights I look out for.

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    Alex Saynor published a poem on the site Football Poets 1 month ago

    With those air miles, Roy, you could tour the moons of Jupiter.
    Ensure the planets are in correct formation,
    no-one stepping beyond their sphere.

    Your Wikipedia page has crashed my computer
    somewhere between […]

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    Alex Saynor commented on a poem on Football Poets 1 month, 2 weeks ago

    Hi Crispin, Thanks so much for this encouragement (sorry, I’ve only just seen this message.) Really appreciate it. Chuffed for you that FGR went up…I live in Wokingham, near Reading. It would be great to catch […]

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    Alex Saynor published a poem on the site Football Poets 2 months ago

    Wanted man at Hounslow Central
    Wanted man outside the Stoop
    Wanted man on Chiswick High Road
    Wanted man at Botanic Kew

    Wanted man outside the Beehive
    Wanted man in Osterley
    Wherever you might look tonight […]

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    What if we forgot to start pre-season,
    found a training camp for enjoying time
    above crickets and distant fireflies?

    What if we only started the season
    to fulfil a contract? Where is the passion
    which made […]

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    The biggest game, the culmination
    of a fading season brought pause
    to fans ranged across the masonry
    of ancient stands in rival colours.

    Penalties. The terminal feedback
    of defeat, the draughtsman’s empty […]

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    How did we arrive here?
    Carrying unfulfilled fixtures
    of the missing from our city
    to UEFA’s listening committee,
    a tentative morning in the warm sun
    of Kungstradgarden assembled faces
    from the Stretford […]

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    Under a canopy of unbroken cloud,
    across a junction over undropped kerbs
    with gates and hedges for goals
    and a wickedly uneven, improvised pitch,
    you appeared in an urban field of dreams
    arrayed on concrete […]

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    Alex Saynor commented on a poem on Football Poets 6 months, 3 weeks ago

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    It’s the FA People’s Cup,
    but who can understand
    this affliction in the sun?

    Fair weather to me is a bitter breeze,
    high winds and a heavy squall,
    ice patches on fourth generation
    artificial surfaces, […]

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    Alex Saynor published a poem on the site Football Poets 8 months ago

    Watching the sky change from Petticoat Tower,
    on the top floor a widower
    scans the gold of morning, hassle of twilight,
    glimpses the holy land as old animosities
    settle over gin and lemonade
    with the old boy […]

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    A trophy haul to rival Ferguson’s,
    but new seasons don’t feel so new any more.
    An imaginary game in the village of Solva,

    a training camp in the Austrian Alps,
    immaculate pitches, mountains
    and […]

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    Alex Saynor changed their profile picture 1 year, 2 months ago

  • Profile picture of Alex Saynor

    Alex Saynor changed their profile picture 1 year, 2 months ago

  • Profile picture of Alex Saynor

    Alex Saynor changed their profile picture 1 year, 2 months ago

  • Profile picture of Alex Saynor

    A tea cosy hat –
    the strange shape of loyalty.

    The Hammersmith and Fulham crest
    says ‘I stood among terrace weeds.’

    Long distance coaches
    crawled north for bitter days
    on broken trajectories.

    The tracksuits […]

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    Clouds were grey and yellow above waves
    below verandahs where Magpies thronged
    en route to Thursday in Bordeaux

    from south coast weather, a Portsmouth low,
    to a liner’s isolated corners,
    transitory bars, sea […]

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    No bitterness in the lemon
    No sweetness to the lime
    No liquid in the bladder
    No water into wine

    No nonsense in the bitter
    No suspension on appeal
    No magic in the mushrooms
    No Carrick in midfield

    No bonfire of […]

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    He plays in the middle
    like it’s June on the reef
    with a touch as light as lemon drizzle,
    feet which glide upon a thermal
    and defenders left in disbelief

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    Managers go. Migrate with phantoms
    of the present on staircases in frames.
    Who stops on the turn and sees the lifting?
    Silverware and crow’s feet.

    People come and go. Hotel rooms,
    breakfast, silence in the […]

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/members/alexsaynor/