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Alex Saynor

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    Black cushions of recycled Continental
    are semi-volatile compounds
    like the Sandhurst centre-back
    channelling his week into a tackle.

    In Tiempos, feel the rubber crumb
    of zinc-enriched non-organic […]

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    After all that transpired: injuries, bereavements, heartaches,
    relegation to No.3 before a transfer back to Cardiff Met:
    crucial stops at critical times.

    After everything you didn’t plan –
    the sun behind a […]

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    Through rain drifting across floodlight beams
    and smoke off the hotdog hut
    from a corner by the Thames

    you can see through black metal railings
    through the smog and instant snap of fag ash
    a distant heap […]

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    The day the leaflets came, election sludge
    we slip into like a soft play ball park,
    they promised us all a new start.

    The current incumbent wouldn’t smile,
    just said ‘It’s strange how all these missi […]

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    Alex Saynor‘s profile was updated 7 months ago

  • Profile picture of Alex Saynor

    Alex Saynor published a poem on the site Football Poets 7 months ago

    The first is the Hollywood, lofted
    or hooked thirty yards from its target’s foot
    over an advertising board for East Neuk Salt.

    The second is the slide rule
    from a vision barely peripheral –
    a pitch for […]

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    ‘Be quiet; the weather’s on the night news.’
    Stephen Malkmus, Watery, Domestic

    Cirrus never whispers, or was that Texas?
    What you really meant was cumulonimbus
    with deep grey future rain around its […]

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    On this island, is it Saints or Pompey,
    what do you say? Don’t ask me, my friend;
    I’m a Bournemouth fan from Alum Bay.

    When you look north, from Cowes,
    or east, from Ryde, I’m around the headland
    at Chilt […]

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    She was talking to me under the radio,
    under the Saturday food programme
    guests cautioned against innuendo

    who went for humour in unlikely combos
    while eyes sank lower above the wheel.
    If anything can […]

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    We’ll play it safe and get there for sunrise.
    Driving to Croydon, any day,
    is like being at Exeter Services on a Saturday
    in August, single file by West Cornwall Pasty.

    So when should we leave? When will w […]

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    It was like that angst in the chest you mentioned, but then it exploded.


    My ‘self’ was in a hundred fragments.All I had was a bed and a skylight,


    a window on the incomprehensible.Drifting off, I m […]

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    A slow moving weather system,
    burdened by a week of brooding, low-lying
    internet traffic will break or settle
    in the pre-match huddle.

    Straining my eyes; who is that team?
    They were so far gone from the […]

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    With gravity at a low centre,
    you danced around temporary pairs
    with teams matched up player for player.
    Without seeing, but in your field of consciousness
    you could sense it coming:
    the reducer.

    Their […]

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    Wembley you’ve been livin’ hell to me
    with your Hanger Lane gyratory
    traffic for no reason, regardless of the season,
    and the IKEA cafe’s run out of lingonberry.

    Wembley, I hate every inch of you.
    Your […]

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

    You hear it at every 5-a-side:
    the myth of the man with time.
    He’s rarely there, but you hear his name.
    ‘Paul – he must be 60 now – dictates the game.’

    He’s reached the point where he rarely runs,
    but […]

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

    I knew it would happen; we missed the window.
    Our boat didn’t come in and nor did we swim to it.

    Our chairman had a month at Cowes Week.
    The vice-president got trapped in industrial brioche,
    was stuck in […]

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    The day I found out I was leaving,
    no-one told me. It was on Ceefax, page 302:
    I’m off to Bristol City!

    Maybe it’s time to ride the Severn Bore
    to Gloucester from Sharpness
    in tomorrow’s dusk and […]

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    Then I realised there is no central being,
    no person in a back room with an Akashic list
    or metaphysical clipboard in Hammersmith.
    Ultimately, ‘Fulham’ does not exist.

    No single person can validate your […]

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    How did you get me twice? Back on the field
    I thought I had escaped your clutches, comments,
    your dismissive shaking of the head.

    The frustrated Biology teacher helping with games,
    telling us we were useless […]

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    All angles of approach were wrong;
    James said ‘One of these days, you’ll play on the floor’,
    but I was in the far corner: it was two on one.
    All angles of approach were wrong.

    The midfield was cross I was […]

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