Football Poets

A Welcome in March 2009

In March 2009, we welcomed the following new contributors to this site :

Jon Tait
Ryan Clowes
Maria Manning
Craig Simmons
Ron Dixon
Winston Plowes
Bob Manning
Harley Reynard
Seb Gevers

A welcome to all our contributors from Whitley Park Junior School / 6 school :
Aiden Nugent

A welcome to all our contributors from Kenton Bar Year 5 / 6 school :
Harley Reynard
Curtis McGlen
Courtney Angus
Monique Hepple
Jordon Foster
Isaac Thompson
Callum Palmer
Abbie Alexander
Ben Dalby
Katie Lowe

A welcome to all our contributors from Pompey Study Support Centre / 6 :
Kennings

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

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State of Play

The game belongs behind rows
of neat allotments & red brick terraces & pigeon duckets
watched by gadgies in flat caps
called norman & ted & frank
coughing coal dust into white hankies
in a stand that looks like an old cow hemmel
with the ripe stench of boiling onions & pies
& chip fat cutting the cold air
while a red glow from the steel works
illuminates the grey afternoon skies
as rain falls heavy as black bullets
from the gathering gloom
stotting off corrugated tin sheets
rather than in soulless concrete coliseums
where the flat warm beer in plastic cups
costs an hours’ wages
& they’ve never heard of ham & pease pudding stotties.

© Jon Tait

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In Praise of the Johnny Haynes Stand at Craven Cottage

I sat in the Riverside Stand and froze
With fingers numbed and icy toes
On those rigid polythene affairs
The frigid moulded plastic chairs.
-And concrete’s OK for a bridge,
But it makes a football stand a ‘fridge –
For a winter sport you wonder why ?
-The solution comes from times gone by.

Across the pitch the Johnny Haynes
Shows that someone used his brains
The tip-up seats are made of wood
Which does the bum a lot more good
The floorboards too are rather crafty
With gaps between, which might prove draughty
But for the cheering, warming glow
From the catering going on below.

From a thousand pies a-gently warming
A balmy microclimate’s forming
And the warmth (that the Riverside always lacks)
Percolates up betwixt the cracks.
So the comfort of my JH seat
Will warm my heart and warm my feet
‘Cos here the chill of winter’s fleeting
When we’re all warmed by central eating !

© ron 2009
The much loved Johnny Haynes Stand at the Cottage dates back to 1905 and has a listed facade………..

Despite the stanchions which allow a more limited view than you get from the newer Riverside Stand, there are compensations…..

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One Proud Night

Wild, Bouncing, Raucous, Proud
Another famous European night
Is there a purer, sweeter, sight or sound,
Than the dance at the end of the fight?

The legends, ‘Galacticos,’ ‘Los Merengues’
Marched into a cauldron of red
Then were battered and beaten into submission
Leaving silently, tails between legs

The monster – The Kop – triumphantly roars
As the troops leave the scene of the battle
The Anfield heart beats like a drum
The rhythm for 40,000 disciples

And an unseen General orchestrates it all
A leader born with immortality
Whispered by the very bones of the Kop
Is the name of man – Shankly

As the great man is watching from up in the clouds
His chest must be bursting with pride
For his sweat, blood and tears – all he gave, all those years
Lives on in this Liverpool side

© Craig Simmons
Inspired after going the Liverpool v Real Madrid game

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Champions Night

Champions night,
expectations high,
the blue of the sea,
merged with the sky.

The warmth of the day,
the talk of what might,
a small humid bar,
on champions night.

The chat and the hope,
in a foreign tongue,
not one would admit,
what what might become.

The reds of the north,
they said in that tone,
would soon bow out,
and all walk alone.

But no, aghast,
as they rampaged the whites,
and Spanish hopes,
on champions night.

© Bob Manning
Fiesta bar, Mijas Pueblo, Malaga, Spain

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What I Did On My Holidays

I’m sitting in the North Stand at Dens
Watching the Dee take on the Jags
Freezing cold
In a half empty stadium
Ninety-two minutes of keech
First Division football at its best
Then a greasy pie at half time
And coffee to keep the hands warm
When the goal goes in in the last minute
(A scuffed effort from ten yards squirms under the keeper)
I’m dancing in the aisles
‘mon Dundee!
It’s not that I support them
But I got carried away with the moment
Football does that to you

© Seb Gevers
Some thoughts on a Scottish First Division game on a bitterly cold afternoon in December.

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Made Up

I can’t believe it happened
I can’t believe its true,
We only needed to score one goal
and then we would be through

We walked the walk
We talked the talk
We tried our best
But came up short

Kewell the jewell
Did all he should
Viduka probably
Wished he could

We’ll have to wait
For four more years
I’ll spend my time
Erasing tears

© harley reynard

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Universal Football Supporters Alphabet

A’s for the away fans lost and running late
B’s for the round ball that makes our game so great
C’s for the pin point cross to the striker’s feet
D’s for the dugout, the managers retreat
E’s for extra time and biting finger nails
F’s for the final where the victor prevails
G’s for the goalie who kept us in the game
H’s for the handball, hang your head in shame
I’s for injury from a crunching tackle
J’s for joker who makes the home fans cackle
K’s for killer pass that puts the player through
L’s for the laces tied on the golden shoe
M’s for mushy peas with meat and tatie pie
N’s for the nutmeg that somehow went awry
O’s for the off-side the linesman didn’t see
P’s for a penalty, come on referee!
Q’s for quids on the transfer list changing hands
R’s for rivalry with local derby fans
S’s for the stewards working with the cops
T’s for narrow turnstiles spinning round like tops
U’s for useless donkey playing in defence
V’s for volunteers who make the difference
W’s for win, three points without a hitch
X’s for the x-ray, stretchered off the pitch
Y’s for yellow card, which spoilt the player’s day
Z’s for zeds of sleep on the coach trip away

© winston Plowes Jan 2009

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A Model to Us All

A ball kicked by the best players,
and the audience are the best prayers

crossing fingers for their team to win
but no little effort should go in the bin

They don´t give up,
they don´t stay down.

They stand firm and strong
They sing their little theme song

Considered true fighters
considered of hard meat

They´re a model to loads
They travel through roads

Football´s not just a bal being kicked
not even all the goals getting ‘nicked’

It´s an inspiration to the world
It´s a way of having faith.

I´m not a big fan, but I support Chelsea
“cuz” of my dad,
Support will always call
It´s a model to us all

© Maria Manning

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Football poet

Oh how the grass smells,
How the ground feels,
How the fans sound,
How the air tastes,
How the stadium looks,
That is why I became a footballer.

© ryan clowes

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