Stuart Butler
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Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 18 years ago
Cup Final tickets,
Once it was Abide with Me.
Now? E-bay with me. -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 18 years ago
Is winning at football
Just gaining your dad’s approval? -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 18 years ago
Paradise regained
Or is it Paradise Lost?
Please lose, Milton’s Keynes. -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 18 years ago
The last minute goal?
Football’s space-time paradox:
Infinite finite. -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 18 years ago
In the kingdom they define as the blind,
The one eyed man is often called the king,
But the man with cosmetic dentistry
Isn’t. -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 18 years ago
Who cares if England play like wimps,
When Swindon win away at the Imps. -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 18 years ago
Celery can travel with some celerity,
But would the salariat prefer celeriac? -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 18 years ago
From Elgar to Smith,
From Art to economist –
Not quite the ticket. -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 18 years ago
It wasn’t Gerry Hitchens,
But rather Charles Dickens,
(The top-hatted man,
A Gillingham fan)
Whose celebrated character,
The impecunious Micawber,
When discoursing wide on rickets,
And the price of football t […] -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 18 years ago
It does seem crowded doesn’t it?
When you’re cheek by jowl at rush hour,
Or stuck in a monotonous motorway jam,
With an endless stream of men
In different coloured football shirts
Leaving their Saturday carbon boo […] -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 18 years ago
Atmosphere is
Four floodlights beaming in a moonlit sky,
With a singing, chanting crowd
(That is divided in its loyalty.
There is no homogeneity,
Away fans welcome,
Cheap and with a view.)
Enmity on the pitch […] -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 19 years ago
Nineteen Sixty One,
Swindon one Halifax one,
No rhyme nor reason. -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 19 years ago
From Real Madrid
It’s just a free carbon kick
To unreal L.A. -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 19 years ago
Less of a window,
More of a revolving door;
With no glass ceiling. -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 19 years ago
It was the perfect present,
Charles Buchan’s Football Monthly Annual,
A book that took me instantly back
To a brown linoleum floor
And a hot fire cold room winter,
Studying a dog eared package
Of 5 year old f […] -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 19 years ago
Come Back Dad
And hide “British History For Boys”
Underneath my pillow while I’m asleep,
As a surprise coming home present.
Come Back Dad
And bring home Mars Bars and eucalyptus sweets
On Thursday pay night […] -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 19 years ago
Men who a few short months before the slaughter
Had voted Socialist,
And who had voted internationalist,
Who had struck for higher wages,
Against their respective employers and Capital,
Were now once more […] -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 19 years ago
When War broke out, the British public cried
“We’ll be in Berlin by Christmas”.
But by Christmas hundreds of thousands had died,
As Mons, The Marne, Ypres and Messine cut
Down the youth of Europe, while Fland […] -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 19 years ago
A man can be wise
And yet possess no wisdom
Apart from his teeth. -
Stuart Butler published a poem on the site Football Poets 19 years ago
So there’s the lost glove again,
Down behind autumn’s withered flowers,
Token of a spring-promise Sunday planting,
Then gone like love’s forgotten hand,
Or the unrecognised signature
Of some unremembered goalkeeper. - Load More
About This Site
Welcome to Football Poets -- a club for all football poets, lovers of football and lovers of (alternative) poetry. Discover poets in every league from respected internationals at the top of their game to young hopefuls in the school playground.
Publish your football poems here and then discuss them with your team mates and fans. We're archived by The British Library, so your masterpieces are in the safe hands of a world-class keeper. What a result!
My Account
Latest Poems
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Crispin Thomas
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joe morris
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Crispin Thomas
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Emdad Rahman
15th July 2025
joe morris
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Crispin Thomas
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Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
7th June 2025 at 5:57 pm
Very well put! My recent favourite came when visiting Chesterfield. They have the ‘LMD Vacuum Excavation Stand’.
May be if you’re in the vacuum excavation business, it’s a beautiful sounding name.
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24th May 2025 at 7:19 am
Hi Steve
I’ve come across you before on the live poetry circuit…something I’ve also been involved in since the late 90s at slams, gigs and festivals. Did you ever get to Glasto?
I was also at Swindon when José subbed and berated Kevin in a League Cup game for Chelsea….
Salah as you point out went the same way…
Be interesting to see Kev’s next move?
Best
Crispin
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24th April 2025 at 1:05 pm
Hey Denys..love this
“You may be a miner working down a pit.
You may be a rock star playing sold out gigs.
You may be a fireman putting out a blaze.
You may be an inmate chalking off the days. ”
Not just Dylan but maybe an unintentional nod to and shades of Ian Dury’s enigmatic ‘What A Waste’ rhythmic scanning..eg:
I could be the driver in an articulated lorry
I could be a poet I wouldn’t need to worry
I could be a teacher in a classroom full of scholars
I could be the sergeant in a squadron full of wallahs
What a waste
What a waste
Was lucky enough to meet and interview him twice.
Best wishes from Forest Green to Genoa C
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8th March 2025 at 2:34 pm
Thanks Crispin
I’ve been to FGR a couple of times in the past – great food! Barnet look like they have the NL sewn up for this season, but I wish you well for promotion next season.
Regards, Beth
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11th January 2025 at 8:13 am
TO ADD THIS TO THIS POEM’S COMMENT:WELCOME BACK DAVID MOYES!!!
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27th November 2024 at 5:55 am
‘You’re Supposed To Be At Home’ is an excellent and moving poem Denys.
You start off thinking it’s just about another oft-sung chant, one we personally heard a lot last season throughout our second relegation in a row here at Forest Green(FGR) ! I always love poems where you think they are saying one thing and then they suddenly pull you deeper to somewhere or something else else.
I’m currently helping in a local school for FGR in a voluntary capacity using football to help young students with reading. At an upcoming session we will tackle racism, just like we did in workshops at football schools and grounds when we first started this site 24 years ago. I’m gonna try and weave your poem into a session.
We’ve added it to the Anti- Racism/Kick It Out section under Crispin’s Corner.
Best C
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26th November 2024 at 1:59 pm
Great poem and great to see you back Wyn.
Don’t leave it so long next time my friend!
More please.
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13th September 2024 at 6:14 pm
Welcome to Football Poets Beth
Great evocative poem Beth….
More please !
Haiku always welcome.
Hope we (FGR) get to play you again soon
Best
Crispin
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26th July 2024 at 6:25 pm
Great poem Mike Bartram. Eddie was a legend, affectionately known in Liverpool as, “the first hooligan.” Even the hoolies were well dressed in those days. The amazing thing was he was only 26 when that picture was taken. He’d played for Everton youth team and was well known to the players. He never got arrested. They threw him out and he climbed back in, just in time for Derek Temples winner.
I used the picture of him being tackled to the ground on the front cover of my book, “Once Upon a rhyme in Football.” It’s worth looking on youtube and finding the re-enactment of the Wembley scene. Frank Skinner and Baddiel went around to Eddies home in the 1990’s and acted it out on the green outside. It’s hilarious, especially all the effort they put in to get Eddie sober enough to shoot the scene.
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