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Trent Morris

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    Bradley’s been sacked.
    There won’t be any prizes.
    Pep’s bag is packed,
    while he shops for disguises.
    Phelan’s contract
    ends with Hull still in crisis,
    and the merry go merry, go round.

    Conte might […]

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    Trent Morris became a registered member 7 years, 6 months ago

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    When you need a goal, you Payet forward.
    When you’re down or drawn at one to one,
    get Dimitri close, then check the scoreboard.
    Payet forward, Son, and then you’re done.

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    The Euros are upon us.
    England likes her chances now.
    She wants to make the final,
    lift the Cup, and take her bow.
    To make it true, there’s work to do:
    those seven fields to plough.
    The Euros are upon us.
    England […]

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    Football, how I loved ye
    since when I could barely stand. Football,
    how my toe’s touch moved ye,
    once I’d stopped ye with my hand.

    Football, how I loved ye
    deeply, daily, as a boy. Football,
    ne’er a sport above […]

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    Now that this season has ended;
    now that the league’s done and dusted;
    players you loved and defended
    like kids – expectations adjusted:
    put all that paid pain behind you.
    Only look forward. Next season.
    Forget […]

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    I’ll Hazard a guess.
    Late surge after such a mess.
    Euros? MLS?

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    When the last piece of grass
    comes to pass, for more turf,
    and these images fade
    in dimension,
    and the stadium roof,
    as more proof we once played,
    must stay closed as they pray
    for invention;
    when the world has […]

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    Trent Morris published a poem on the site Football Poets 8 years ago

    Who’s ‘The Man’ now, Mr. Kane?
    Vardy? You? Please tell us.
    Maybe we’ll ask Gabriel.
    Maybe Demichelis.
    Can this streak endure, so
    he can score the goals to park us?
    Will Roy call his name for Euro?
    I can help: it’s ‘Marcus.’

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    Trent Morris published a poem on the site Football Poets 8 years ago

    If Leicester wins the Premier League,
    I’ll do a little dance,
    for all the sides did not get up
    and take their second chance;
    supporters of the also rans
    who never could advance.
    If Leicester wins the Premier L […]

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    Who ya gonna trade fer Jamie Vardy?
    Olivier Giroud ‘r Harry Kane?
    Deeney? Martial? To me ther’s hardly
    any striker left what don’t seem plain.
    The days ‘r gone when you could pick the Speedster,
    Lukaku ‘n Ighalo: […]

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    Went down to the Blues Cafe
    to watch football the other day.
    Server said, “The game’s not on.
    I have the Club. The Special’s gone.”

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    It started in the garden.
    He was barely one year old.
    He’d stand and get a hand
    to every ball his mother rolled.
    His father taught him how to catch.
    This new skill made them smile.
    They knew he’d be a keeper for […]

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    My mother’d no money for music.
    My father, he played back in school.
    Just like my grandfather, before him.
    They were hard men and nobody’s fool.
    I struggled in reading and writing.
    To succeed I was nobody’s […]

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    I read a Steward
    at the Stade de France
    foiled the attack of one
    who sought to enter
    just to claim more lives

    … and make us fear …

    … communing to enjoy
    the game we cherish.
    With the Bystanders,
    the […]

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    “I no humour,” said the man.
    “My side’s in fifteenth place.
    By May we won’t have fifty points
    if we stay at this pace.”

    “I no humour,” said the man.
    “Trouble with FA.
    I watch the matches from the stands.
    Too […]

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    All hail to the Hard Man! Cold,
    flying in studs-high.
    Midfielders keeping honest,
    who once dithered.
    Prototypes who starred when
    sending off meant someone died.
    Sure, from the sound of footsteps,
    softer strikers […]

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    We’ve all been there; the moment when we realize it’s lost.
    It doesn’t have to be that late, or three to nil.
    A mental shift occurs, then comes a weighing of the cost
    of persevering when it’s hopeless, as if […]

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    Somewhere a girl just kicked a football.
    The way that it felt made her smile.
    She promised herself she’d add one to her shelf
    and that ‘sporty’ would be her new style.

    Somewhere a boy just kicked a […]

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    Embers of a sunset bleed
    more light than warmth this hour
    above this stadium, now empty like a sinner.
    Victory cries once echoed,
    where now concrete walls devour
    dead dreams and memories of those who knew a […]

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