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Andrew Harris

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    Andrew Harris published a poem on the site Football Poets 7 years ago

    These men make their slow journey on the path into the thickets
    in their own manner, guided by a map that no other can read.
    We can but glimpse the loneliness, the terror, the resignation
    the cruel, creeping […]

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    Andrew Harris commented on a poem on Football Poets 7 years, 4 months ago

    Thanks Peter – lovely to hear from you and thanks for all your efforts.  I enjoy your work.  Agree with your assessment – someone puts lead weights in England players’ boots – perhaps its the urge to be cautious a […]

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    Recently ‘twas asked why the England shirt weighs so heavy?
    Perhaps there are other questions behind this continuing levy?
    Were we too imperious in showing the world the Britannia way
    only for others to have t […]

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    Could those of us who coldly judged
    match the example of his effort
    Sunk in half a foot of sand and mud
    flying unseeing at boots, into fists,
    the foreheads of gap-toothed tigers

    Unprotected but for […]

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    Love, come inside and leave those wet shoes in the alcove,
    dinner’s in the fry pan but you’ll have to re-heat the stove.
    I’m afraid we couldn’t wait and it’s a little past its prime,
    Silly me, I should’ve […]

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    Perhaps the footballing lion heart,
    the athleticism, the Corinthian spirit
    blinded us to the other dimensions;
    his being, his experience, his reality

    For was he first not a player but a man
    entitled to be […]

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    The cardboard “Shoot League Ladders” to glue to your wall
    “Soccer as I see it” presumably ghost written for Alan Ball
    Sideburns, sock-tags, the gapped tooth smiles of another age
    The charmingly egalita […]

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    A man’s life defined in one ten second frame,
    ball lightly traversing the canvass of sunlit grass
    his moment unfolding with joyful certainty,
    irrevocably recasting the parabola of his destiny

    Can there be a […]

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    The ghosts of yesterday’s football
    flit and start, flickering, teasing.
    How time sped, arching, arrowing
    away like some desperate, miscued shot

    Lost in the rituals of endless games,
    the intimacy of the i […]

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    The portly ex-pro who stands and points like a conductor
    Your dodgy calf and what the hell is a strained abductor?
    The through ball that runs tantalisingly over the dead ball line
    The club disciplinary […]

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    Andrew Harris became a registered member 7 years, 7 months ago

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    If no footballer can be an island, never to drift
    alone over the sea-green of the surface,
    breaking the binds of the leaden-foot gaoler
    how close he came, how unique his gifts

    Expecting the pass, demanding the […]

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    The elegance of the menace
    sensing the weakness, the softness.
    The calm composure of the assassin
    without sympathy, a guile unbound
    preying upon the panicked,
    the ill-composed and underprepared

    Laying deep, […]

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    Arrowing over the skies to the deep wilds of Essex
    to the unfamiliarity of the compact, concrete dressing room
    its confines offering comfort from the crowd, the cold,
    the February wind screaming across the bare […]

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    Andrew Harris published a poem on the site Football Poets 8 years ago

    We were home internationals, one team boys to a man
    brillcreamed, baggy panted, all Kevins, Billys and Stans.
    Promotion, a championship and FA Cup winners,
    On retiring, only three cheers, stilted board room […]

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    Andrew Harris published a poem on the site Football Poets 8 years ago

    There he is again
    swooping from the dark of the floodlights
    to perch on the frame of the goal.
    Crossbar carrion bird
    eyeing me warily, picking his mark.
    Why here, why this field, why now?
    With all the beauty of […]

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    The nuanced flair drew the eye
    But his joy for the game held the fondness
    One shoulder hung low, an arm crocked
    Stud defying, rolled down socks
    Tongue poking the corner of his mouth

    Eyes in his toes, […]

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    A moment from the future of the game
    Or one from a gladiatorial past
    Played without mercy
    Played without a ball
    Battiston, presented with half the field
    By the safecracking feet of Platini

    The Frenchman, eyes […]

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    When the world began to come too close
    And argument grew from honest debate
    It became time for the boy to go where he goes
    Ball at his feet, gently lifting the latch on the gate

    The boy, the ball and nothing […]

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    Its dusk and Mr Mochrie sweeps the streets of suburban Brisbane
    Bundling the kids of printers, plumbers, labourers into his station wagon
    Unbound, bouncing around as coconuts until the last pick up presses
    The […]

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