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Peter Goulding

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    Peter Goulding published a poem on the site Football Poets 1 month ago

    Orange leather footballs in the snow,
    when struck with force from some attacker’s toe,
    would sting but you could never let it show.

    Arctic troughs could change the status quo
    and games that went ahead w […]

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    Peter Goulding commented on a poem on Football Poets 1 year, 2 months ago

    Andrew, that saver/engraver line is terrific!

    My only comment about the subject matter would be that whenever the likes of Tony Currie or Rodney Marsh got into the England team, they seemed to get dragged down to […]

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    The ‘i’s are dotted, ‘t’s are crossed
    and Tolka Park appears lost.
    The football ground will pay the cost.
    Financial targets? Sure, we never met them.

    Shels will go and share with Bohs,
    their bittere […]

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    I miss the old clock at the Ballybough end
    that used to run slow when we had to defend.
    We’d play to it, pray to it,
    some folk would swear at it.
    And when we conceded, we’d voice our despair at it.

    But oh […]

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    Peter Goulding changed their profile picture 1 year, 3 months ago

  • Profile picture of Peter Goulding

    Peter Goulding changed their profile picture 1 year, 3 months ago

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    Peter Goulding‘s profile was updated 1 year, 3 months ago

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    Peter Goulding became a registered member 1 year, 3 months ago

  • Profile picture of Peter Goulding

    There doesn’t seem to be a clear pace-setter,
    careering through the fixtures with incision.
    There’s not one club that seems a whole lot better
    than all the other teams in the division.
    Everybody’s waiting to se […]

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    Do you recall the rusty old tin shed
    that was a feature of Athlone’s old ground?
    Whenever someone scored, the fists would pound
    the walls, with fearsome noise to rouse the dead.

    The corrugated roof which p […]

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    “It’s time,” she says. I gulp a little weakly.
    The butterflies flap madly in their fear.
    She offers me my scarf. I take it meekly.
    My stomach harbours thoughts of diarrhoea.

    “Tell the kids I love them very de […]

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    Thirst-quenching, bum-clenching,
    nail-biting, wrong-righting,
    head-turning, bowel-churning,
    ear-popping, heart-stopping,
    nerve-jangling, hope-mangling,
    fag-smoking, nervous-joking,
    beer-swilling, […]

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    Tonight we welcome Galway up to Tolka.
    I’ll burst into applause when you appear.
    If I wasn’t such a Red,
    I might well follow you instead.
    My heart will always hold you very dear
    but I hope we won’t be playi […]

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    Oh Lord, as we complete this two-horse race,
    the football season barely six months old,
    deliver us, we pray, from this dark place.

    We kneel before your majesty and grace,
    looking for a way back in the fold
    as we, […]

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    Bragging in the playground,
    bragging in the pub.
    Bragging in the workplace
    who’s the better club.

    Teams with wealthy chairmen
    will come out on top.
    Little teams are struggling.
    Where’s it going to sto […]

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    To be content with life is your perdition –
    there must be something wrong within your make-up.
    Staying with one club shows no ambition.

    To strive for glory has to be your mission –
    the call goes out. Behold the […]

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    What can we do if Longford keep on winning,
    save try and get three points to stay in touch?
    I’m sure the City Calling cats are grinning –
    I doubt they’ve ever seen them score as much.
    They’re playing like the Ger […]

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    Way, way back in the eighties,
    when we commented on praties
    and mullets were the fashion of the day,
    the fixture we loved best,
    one step up from all the rest
    was travelling up to play Finn Harps away.

    We could […]

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    And now it’s all over.
    The games have been played,
    the Germans deserving
    of each accolade.

    But that was just fantasy.
    Follow your dream.
    Go out now and follow
    your own local team.

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    The World Cup Final – for both teams the goal
    of years of work. We hoped it would be played
    in good spirits. Would Messi have a role?
    Could the continental hoodoo be laid
    to rest? In front of Brazil and the w […]

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