Football Poets

We welcomed in May …

In May 2008, we welcomed the following new contributors to this site :

Paul Hayward
Tim Dicks
Andrew Butt
nalin devalam
Howard Derry

We also welcomed :

Pompey Double Club Students

Click on the names above to see that person’s poem(s), or browse some selected first efforts below :

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Going Places

He sat behind me in the Halfords I’d say for many years,
Sharing Baggies ups and downs, the good times and the tears,
A nod at ten to three as he sidled to his seat,
“By how many goals today do you think this lot will get beat?”
His favourite players were out of reach by a generation or more,
And over the years their names have passed into Albion folklore,
“Allen, Barlow, Griffin – they took on and beat the best,
Until a team wins trophies – they haven’t passed the test”
And his eyes would assume a wistful look, a smile not far away,
He’d be at Wembley ‘54; he’d never forget that day,
“Oh Astle was good and Tony Brown too” he’d agree as I stated my case,
For a later team of winners the club found hard to replace,
We’d both look over to the Brummie End, the scene of Astle’s glory,
Then after a while he’d lean over again to relate another story,
“Of course my father brought me here, way back in 31,
That year we won the FA Cup and then got promotion,
My father said that WG was the greatest he had seen,
But Allen, Barlow, Nicholls, Griffin; that will always be my team”
His eyes would almost dare me to challenge his intimation,
He knew that I’d take up the cause for a later generation,
“Come on” I’d say “the team of 78 and 79,
Their attacking flair and passing game were utterly sublime,
Cyrille, Laurie, Bomber Brown, Statham and John Wile,
A team to beat the greatest with grit and flair and style”
And younger eyes observing a seat or two away,
Would doubtless rave of Mowbray’s team, the players of today,
At three o’clock we’d settle down for our roller coaster ride,
Condemn the opposition while shouting up our side,
Exasperation, anger, joy they were there in equal measure,
Annoyance, fury, rage and passion and sometimes even pleasure,
At poor displays the old chap would shake his head and yell,
And under Bobby Gould, shout obscenities as well,
We saw some memorable games together, my old friend and me,
Promotions and the Great Escape, play offs at Wemberley,
We saw off really useless players and managers come to that,
It always looked so simple from where we were sat,
But inevitably the match came when his seat remained untaken,
I remember hoping desperately my fear was just mistaken,
I miss his rants, his joy and his views on team selection,
His optimism, pessimism, his expecting of perfection,
No minute’s silence for the fans who support through thick and thin,
Just an upward smile from us down here with every Baggie win,
Like all us fans that old guy, he always got it right,
Who played well, indifferently or absolutely shite,
I recall the smile he gave me at the end of his last game,
His forthright views then followed – as ever, just the same,
And as he waved his goodbye, his final words to me?
“Mowbray’s team – it’s going places, just you wait and see”.

© Paul Hayward

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Can Both Teams Lose?

Is there any way
When Liverpool play
Chelsea, in the league of few champions
(which anyway, is a Cup, not a league)
Is there any way,
That both teams can lose?

No, you are told,
One team has to go through.
Check the rules,
It’s Reds v Blues
And sadly, only one can lose.

But suppose the pitch
Due to some tectonic hitch
Opened up wide,
And swallowed both teams whole
Before either had scored a goal?
What then?

Then, I’d construe,
Your football fantasy
Just came true.

© Howard Derry

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Bristol City – My Team

Consolidation was key, way at the start
Difference from top, was decades apart
But GJ our lord, had something in mind
Something that nobody, thought we would find
Elliott came out, from out of the Den
Trundle and Carle, added to them
Gladiators that were willing, and prepared to fight
McIndoe fast, wide down the right

For Ashton Gate is, a great place to be
A red sea of fans, shouting with glee
Eastenders shouting, bouncing around
As this is our church, this church is our ground

I’d like to think, we’ve got god on our side
Ohhhh Basso, the stand you’ll hear cry
As he points to the air, with a prayer in his mind
He is our keeper, he’s one of a kind
They’ll never last, the media did say
Bursting some bubbles, we’ve done on the way

As we’ve worked damn hard, with resources we’ve got
Unlike the West Broms, with big money pots
We may not be wealthy, as some of these teams
But one thing we’ve got, is GJ our king

We moved on right up, right up to the top
I think the Eastend, could out sing the Kop
For we are so close, so close to the Prem
You can hear the bitterness, coming out from the Mem
You’ll come back down, the Gasheads do cry
Well at least we got there, now crawl off and die

I’ll finish off by saying, good luck and well done
This seasons been great, this seasons been fun
My heart rate is high, its getting harder to breathe
But I know we’ll pull through, ‘COS WE ALWAYS BELIEVE………

© Tim Dicks
This is my first poem, so please be gentle.

True Blue Chelsea Football Club

Play with us and u will see,
For us losing is not meant to be,
For this is a ship and not a ferry,
The captain here is John Terry,
Scoring from dstance and point blank,
We cheer on for our beloved Frank,
Come near him ‘n feel like a hen,
He can play anywhere the name is Essien,
Try all u want our attack will wreck,
He lets nothing in that’s Petr Cech,
Heading his way on a counter attack,
he can win u matches hes Michael Ballack,
U might be fast u might be in a hurry,
He’ll take the ball away thats Claude Makelele,
No matter how good u are in your defensive role,
He’ll sneak his way the name is Joe Cole,
His crosses are perfect ,the left flank his lane,
he plays at the Bridge,his name is Wayne,
His game is good ,from Arsenal we stole,
gave them Gallas ‘n took Ashley Cole,
He scores ,he dances his very own Samba,
Not Brazillian he’s our Didier Drogba,
He’s learning his way, his effort his true,
He’s started scoring goals, he’s Saloman Kalou,
His height is deceiving, but hes got brawns,
He speeds his way, ‘n the name is Shaun,
There’s darkness now, but wait for day,
He’ll score 50 goals, the name is Andriy,
Try steppin up and he will show,
he owns the place, Ricardo Carvalho,
We play at the Bridge,Thats our home,
Its our temple,We respect its dome,
The priest is strict, he runs the show,
he’s the ” special one ” ,Jose Mourinho,
Wearing the blue, with passion in our hearts,
Winning is our attitude once the game starts,
We’ll make history,u will all see,
Quadrapule’s the target,our name – CHELSEA !!!

© AZM
Editor : guess this was written in Mourinho’s day

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Italian Haze 1990

The superior San Siro cornerstone stands unspeakable indestructibly
Insignificant orange Dutchman convoke in its aura
An Italian haze provokes a perspective sense of immortality
Naïve liberal minds eclipsed from an inevitable defeat from the fatherland
A stupidly heavy Italian moon is suspended from strings
The pad section from Seal – Killer resonates the mind
Human beings conduct their incomprehensible antics upon some green
The game of association football finishes
The Deutchlanders prevail
Can they be stopped?
Of course not

© andrewrb@blueyonder.co.uk

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Pompey are on their way to Wembley

F lowing through my head, the sounds of everyone celebrating
A tmosphere is electrifying as the players take the stage

C aptain is Sol Campbell, a leader on the pitch
U taka’s position is on the wing, where he can sprint up and down
P ompey Double Club is very good!

F ootballing legends have lived and died at Wembley
I hope Pompey become champions
N ear the end, Pompey break away and score
A ll over, the final whistle blows and the players go crazy
L eaping in the air, Pompey have won the FA Cup!

© Pompey Double Club students
This was an acrostic poem collaboratively written by students from Portsmouth ‘Pompey Double Clubs’ and students from Indonesian ‘Pompey Double Clubs’. The Indonesian students use Pompey themed resources to learn English and have been visiting Portsmouth at the best time! It was written on Friday 16th May, the day before the cup final.

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