A Welcome in Nov & Dec 07+Happy New Year 2008
A Happy New Year to all our readers and contributors!
I’ve got a bit of catching up to do, so :
In November & December 2007, we welcomed the following new contributors to this site :
Geoffrey Winch
John-Mark Reid
Damian Brown
From Upholland High School , we welcome :
From St John’s Catholic Primary School , we welcome :
A blast from the past – a welcome return to
Bob Harford , who last posted in September 2003
&
Matthew Paul , who last posted in November 2002
Click on the names above to see that person’s poem(s), or browse some selected first efforts below :
Hip, hip Premiership
The Football Poets
Formed in 1995
Cricket bowled over
Title to a Blackburn Rover
The town came alive
Lancashire was proud
Rovers shouted out loud
Hip, hip Premiership
In the limelight
Our toes did dip
7 lines in a verse
3 in the chorus
Don’t know what was worse
United to bore us
Singing to them perverse
Arsenal merely died
With SAS in the side
Hip, hip Premiership
In the limelight
Our toes did dip
In 1987 was at college
Gaining electronic knowledge
Used to watch the Hudders
But followed Rovers away
Give us promotion
We used to pray
Getting drunk on Saturday
Hip, hip Premiership
In the limelight
Our toes did dip
Damian Brown – Media i – 3rd November 2007
found your details in The Writer’s Handbook 2008 and I was inspired to write a poem when I saw that you formed in 1995 when my hometown team, Blackburn Rovers, won the Premiership.
Editors; it’s true FPs were born in 1995 as a group of writing and performing poets. Early performances included The Royal Festival Hall, Cheltenham Festival Of Literature and of course Stroud from pubs to the Stroud Fringe Festival. The site itself was launched in 2000 and set up by Dave Cockcroft ,and now boasts just under 10,000 published poems ,with over 22,000 submissions, received checked and edited on (or deleted off!) by 3 people for nearly eight years.. for nothing.
check the ID number of each poem . Keep on!
BISCUITMEN AND BOYS
H & P’s – biscuit bakers of the premier league
by appointment to His Majesty – they satisfied
appetites of the post-war world.
King’s Road would fill at Friday’s final whistle
with biscuitmen biking, bussing, running home –
had to be ready for the weekend game.
Mister Ost, weekday-weary – defeated always by
Kendrick Hill – pushed his bike up then thanked
the Lord he could freewheel all down to Whitley,
except on Fridays when he’d break his journey
to deliver his weekly bonus of broken biscuits
to we three boys.
The best were saved by Mother for Sunday tea,
then it was time for the lucky draw – rough or
smooth, rich tea or nice, a coffee finger or pink
girly wafer! (boys liked the brown ones better),
ginger nut, neat iced gem (blues were the rare ones)
or a dream – a garibaldi. Halves, quarters, odd-shapes –
it didn’t really matter – a treat was in every piece, but
a real winner was a Reading shortcake, pimply, round
and, sometimes, whole! – (an own-goal by Mother?)
Mister Ost was a broken man – own son sacrificed
to the war, his wife to an early grave – but Saturdays
he’d be on Elm Park’s terraces, faithful fan roaring
the boys on in another division three (south) battle –
long before the Biscuitmen were dubbed the Royals.
Now Elm Park echoes inside Madejski’s stadium –
the Royals are the Biscuitmen of the premier league.
© Geoffrey Winch 2007
Reading were formerly known as The Biscuitmen before The Royals.
Poem written in the 2006-7 season.
“Uncle Jack”
He had a club, which he loved,
and at his club, we love him back,
he is the man we all admire,
Our favourite Uncle Jack
It was his home, it was his life,
his blood ran blue and white,
his passion shone around the ground,
like the floodlights in the night.
At Ewood there’s a statue,
which I visit every game
then on I go, to the Blackburn End,
Where as fans, we chant your name.
I have written this in your memory,
but don’t think of me as stalker,
because EVERY Rover misses you,
Rest In Peace Jack Walker.
© John-Mark Reid
Hello,
i am new to your site and new to poetry. My name is john reid and i am studying creative writing at the university of cumbria. I am comfortable in all modes of writing other than poetry so tried to use football, a subject i am comfortable on, to numb the pain.
it worked and i have a poem here, after finding a suject matter close to heart that i would like your opinion on.
I am a blackburn rovers fan and as any rover will tell you Jack Walker still rests in my heart as a massive part of the club. this is the suject matter for my poem, any feedback will be gladly received
thank you
john
The Substitute
Sitting in the changing room with smells amongst the air,
Of cigarettes and deep heat that makes my nostrils flare,
Sitting taking orders from everyone around,
Come on I think, it’s cold, let’s get on the ground.
Waiting patiently I sit – will I make the team?
I trained so hard last night surely he’s not that mean?
Then the clip board comes out and silences the crowd,
Please say my name you know I’ll do you proud!
The list of names flow quickly – I feel a wobble in my chin,
One name left I panic – am I in, am I in!
Disappointment fills my mind my chances here look bleak,
“Everyone’s important” says he , train harder next week.
I stagger wearily to the side line of the pitch,
And pray to God that someone twists their ankle in a ditch,
As the final whistle blows I haven’t had my chance,
The team skips past truimphantly not giving me a glance.
© Chris
On the departure of Steven Bruce
A bad workman blames his tools
A hopeless captain his crew of fools
An equivocating board of little use
Hello chaos goodbye Bruce
© bobharford
EDITED HIGHLIGHTS
Who needs all ninety minutes? You can watch
Edited highlights – they’re more than enough:
The only things that matter in a match,
All of it end to end, exciting stuff.
Do-or-die tackles, every pass spot on ,
Each shot a screamer fit to burst the net,
The Beautiful Game with all the dull bits gone
Is what we want. The rest you can forget.
Off-screen, it’s different. Real life’s not about
Winning the league, the lifting of a cup.
The moves break down, the build-ups fizzle out.
Hanging around when people don’t turn up,
Waiting to get the ball back from the crowd:
That’s the real game. The bulk of it is dud.
The goals are flukes or cruelly disallowed.
Most of my life, I’ve slogged through midfield mud.
© Dave Whippman 2007
Two words
Two words
One love
One word
FOOTBALL
Two Words
Favourite Team
WEST HAM
EAST END
Home Ground
UPTON PARK
Nick Name
One Word
HAMMERS
Owner
Icelandic
Occupation
Two Words
SELLS BISCUITS
Two Words
Last Season
One Word
Premiership
Two Words
We’re Staying
Three Words
BYE BYE CHARLTON
One Word
Hero
Argentinean
Controversy
Two Words
CARLOS TEVES.
Two Words
Favourite Player
Bobby Moore
Best Player
Bobby Moore
Three Words
World Cup Winner
Four Words
For Ever In History
One Word
LEGEND
One song
We are for ever blowing bubbles
© Raju Ahmed
steven gerrard
Steven Gerrard is so great
Tackling everyone
Every time he plays
Very loving as well as hard
Excellent skills
No one can beat him
Good hatricks
Everyone loves him
Ridiculously scoring so many
Reading the football book
Asking for the ball
Risking his life thinking if he doesn’t score
Dying of sweat
© jessica
[haiku]
losing again…
the flick of a divot
in the linesman’s sprint
© Matthew Paul
Loftus Road, 4/12/07. It’s not looking good. Get rid of loan players – none of them play with any pride…
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!
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Latest Comments
19th November 2023 at 1:45 pm
Thanks Gacina, glad you liked it, and I have just posted a new one about our points deduction…
See in context
7th November 2023 at 6:34 pm
Today B.B.C post on F.B was titled:Premier League reduced to 18 clubs? I really think it may be interesting to see if this would be Everton’s nightmare and this poem is well suited for this concern.If there would be more difficult battle to stay if there were 18 teams.Great poem and somehow true.
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6th November 2023 at 4:43 pm
Ashington FC have launched a £50,000 Crowdfunder appeal to meet the increased costs of winning promotion last season, to pay for urgent stadium improvements, travel costs and equipment
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31st October 2023 at 4:26 pm
‘Three Teams Worse Than Us’ from our Toffee friend Denys in Italy, also sums up how FGR fans currently feel. Yes, in our case, with two going down to the Conference, it could be entitled ‘Two Teams Worse Than Us’, but three would make us feel even safer.
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6th October 2023 at 11:49 pm
Enjoy it while you can, although I’m sure Mbappe could well be bound for St James
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2nd October 2023 at 1:52 pm
There still remains a magic about the early rounds of the FA Cup that the premier league / internationals can never match.
Coventry Sphinx v Leicester Nirvana sounds so much more than a tale of two cities etc. etc.
See in context
24th September 2023 at 5:14 pm
Very accurate indeed!
Palace home for me is always a tough journey as well. From the wilds of west London to Selhurst is a random journey into the unknown.
See in context
20th September 2023 at 1:37 pm
Lovely stuff for one of the best.
We love him to death down at the Palace.
I’ll post my Roy poem a bit later. You’ve inspired me to finish it.
See in context
19th September 2023 at 5:06 pm
I’d like to think some of my scarves might get passed down the generations, but can’t see some of the “quality merchandise” I have making much past my son’s generation. They’ll fall apart before he even has kids, I reckon!
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7th September 2023 at 2:43 pm
Very true Crispin. Thanks!
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