On Such A Day (for Holly and Jessica and their families)
it was one summer’s day when the news it came by
you could search high and low and not find a dry eye
and it wasn’t the news that you prayed it would be
but the same awful moment for you and for me –
while away in the distance they were playing some game
the start of a season but something had changed
and all of those fixtures seemed suddenly bland
from Rushden to Arsenal and way ‘cross the land
and what can you utter to lessen the blow
who can you turn to and where can you go
when everything else it just whithers and pales
and all of your strength it just stutters and fails –
for these were the words that we hoped to avoid
and these are the pictures where dreams are destroyed
these are the children that could have been ours
plucked from their lives that were open like flowers
but they sat at Old Trafford and at grounds ‘cross the land
and try as they might they could not understand
and sometimes you wonder what more can you do
while the tears fall together from me and from you –
and how can we ever help loved-ones recover
what can we say to a father or mother
what can we offer and where can we start
to help them pull though this and make a new start?
and why it all happens we never will know
but this is the minute when all that we know
is questioned and challenged like floods in a town
or wild winds and snow when there’s storm all around –
but now when the dark nights will follow blue skies
now when we gather with tears in our eyes
now when the anger it wells up inside
we reach out for someone or somewhere to hide –
for this is the one thing we always have known
we’re always together but always alone
alone but together and joined by it all
together in silence together appalled –
but we will give comfort wherever we can
we will remember and we will all stand –
together together alone in this world
alone with the sorrow the weeks have unfurled
for there was a time when we once were a child
those innocent years that we played in a while
when all that we knew were the things we were told
and how we’d be young til the day we grew old –
and there was an advert i think of it still
two children walking up over a hill
a long twisty pathway that bent to and fro
and it said .. little feet they have so far to go –
and all of those warnings all of those dangers
like crossing the road or talking to strangers
all of those moments you pray will not come
all of those nightmares just rolled into one –
but when the news takes you you numb like the snow
it freezes your thinking it pulls at your soul
and there in the darkness we never outgrow
there in the sadness wherever we go
but this is the time when you share in the grief
whatever you’ve always or never believed
to question where all of this darkness began
and man’s disrespect for his own fellow man
and it isn’t the media it’s closer to home
it’s everyone’s children from ours to your own
and you look for a reason and send out your love
you look for some guidance within or above
while everything else become meaningless void
such innocent life and such futures destoyed –
but away in the village and over the fields
they stand there in silence so deep and so real
and you swear though this mountain sweeps up like a fire
that you will keep trying and we will rise higher
and maybe the odds they will loom like a tower
and maybe this feels like the darkest of hours
but we will not cease from the dream we all share
for a world that is safe that is loving and fair –
for they were the moment and children of now
but it hit such a chord when the news broke somehow
and on one summer day when the news it came by
you could search high and low and not find a dry eye
——————————————————————————–
© crispin 02
i hope no-one minds me writing something for those two innocent children… i am just so upset and sad like everyone..and just wanted to write something…if it does’nt have a place here..tell me and i’ll remove it..Right now – It just puts everything else into perspective life love money work holidays homes families.and football….
Peace.
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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!
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Crispin Thomas
25th January 2023
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23rd January 2023
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23rd January 2023
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8th January 2023
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7th January 2023
joe morris
6th January 2023
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6th January 2023
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5th January 2023
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4th January 2023
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
5th December 2022 at 8:11 pm
Stuart, you are not alone, in your dichotomy of doubt
but without dissention
you stand alone
in hogging our attention!
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16th November 2022 at 11:04 am
[Football on soiled turf]
This is a wonderful phrase which I shall be using from now on!
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15th November 2022 at 3:54 pm
Well said Crispin. One of the reasons for The Ball 2022/23 is exactly this – that FIFA need to know. The Ball is essentially a petition to FIFA to honour their commitments to the UN Sports for Climate Action Framework. They signed up; they should act. The Qatar tournament takes the World Cup in the opposite direction to that commitment. And 2026 looks like it’ll be even worse.
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8th November 2022 at 2:06 pm
Hi Guys
Re ‘Lets Boycott Qatar ‘ poem
You probably hate me banging on..and problably know (like me) that my/your not watching the World Cup in Qatar will make no difference.
Of course it won’t. That’s not the point.
OK someone might possibly eventually publish a minimal drop in terrestrial TV viewer numbers, but I fear that is unlikely.
But please above all, do go on writing poems about the World Cup, as/you we have always done. I hate to think a poem or two of mine might l make you feel bad about comenting on a game or country …or that I’ve put you all off about wanting to contribute.
So we’d love to hear from you and read your thoughts and observations, as ever on what’s going on.
Some of us have been here since Football Poets website birth/inception for the Euros 2000 ….
All my best wishes
Crispin
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18th October 2022 at 10:06 am
Shoot! (Something we’ve also been screaming in vain at our team all season !)
Great memories Joe . Before Shoot, it was Roy of the Rovers comic too, dropping through my letterbox.
Anxiously waiting each week to see if they survived in the mexcian jungle after an ambush..or a pre-season earthquake!
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3rd October 2022 at 8:32 pm
Thanks for the kind words Sharon. Yes, it was a shame with Billy Shako, but with five subs now being allowed, he might yet make it off the bench. Even if it’s just a cameo to close out a poem.
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2nd October 2022 at 1:49 pm
John, your new book is an absolute delight and more please. It’s a shame ‘Swapping Shirts With Shakespeare’ never made it off the bench, but quality football poets light up the writing fields like Roman candles. Go well.
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4th September 2022 at 12:42 pm
Great memories Greg. Took me right back.
Today I stand on a small terrace in the hills where I live watching Forest Green Rovers in L1, and keep up with Chelsea on highlights. It’s a far cry and a world away from those times when I lived as a child within walking distance of ‘The Bridge’ – just off the Ifield Road, which led to Fulham Road. The Blues were rubbish for so long, but we loved them and somehow we stayed in the old First Division for so many seasons. And of course we got to see Greavesie at his impudent best, scoring goals for fun. Mad unpredictable games where we’d score 4 and let in five.
The looming floodlights in the dark and mist on magic night games. The big games when the ground heaved.
I don’t think we ever realized how magical and incredible it was back then. The atmosphere and arriving there so early – like you said.. just to make sure you got in. Back when Bovril, tea and cake and roasted peanuts for sixpence a back were just about all on offer.
Good times.
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4th September 2022 at 12:37 pm
see above
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18th August 2022 at 10:20 am
To put it politely!
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