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Poems tagged ‘1914’

Remembrance Sunday, 11/11/2024

Clik The Mouse

Sunday, November 10th, 2024

WE must NEVER forget
never, ever, forget
in the same way
that we never forget
our first match
our first goal
our first victory
our favourite dink
our favourite nutmeg
our favourite skill / tackle / save
our first icon
our first visit – to anywhere and everywhere;

we must never forget –
because if we do
we’ll be beaten
in a way that is unforgiveable;
for if we forget
we’ll troop off the pitch, heads bowed
because we left something out there

~ # ~

TRAITORS XI

REMEMBER:
Many went to war
for us,
for our freedom
for our right – to exist, as we must, as we should
free of choice
free of voice;

our voices –
cheer for the exalted –
icons on verdant green
where they preen, and primp
and yes, block, haul down, deny
but where the better ones, fly…
through the air
meeting leather, with leathered foreheads
or with rainbow laces, mid-air, in contorted
but controlled, fashion.

They play, with a passion
we cheer, with even greater passion;
but Passchendaele
Verdun, Somme, Dogger Bank;
Midway, Dunkirk, Alamein, Normandy…
we can all agree
drew many, in their hundreds of thousands, nay millions,
to battle
to witness
to steer
our future – OUR future
in a way, that could never be their futures;

they waded
through mud and blood
and trenches soiled with death and fear
so that we might never have to fear – for OUR lives;

on their journey
was a tiny detour –
a “Stille Nacht”
where Wehrmacht, und Tommie
played out a match so revered –
that it is not yet forgotten;
and forgotten – it must NEVER BE;
the poppies and wreaths that we lay….
Commemorate all before us
so that we may play….
in PEACE.

So lining out for a Traitors XI….
Putin; Kim Jung On; Pol Pot; Idi Amin; Suddam Hussein;
Gadaffi; Marcos; Hoxha; Bin Laden; Videla; Karadzic
and too many subs, too many squads, to mention

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The Christmas Truce

Phil Brennan

Tuesday, September 19th, 2023

Our family football scarf holds many memories, from its time within our clan,
Some fantastic tales come with it, as it’s passed from man to man.

Great, great granddad Jim told how he got the scarf when he went off to war,
A gift from his father to remind him of home, when he had left these shores.

That was back in 1914, when he and thousands of young men,
Set sail to sea, for queen and country, some never seen again.

He told of how that Christmas time, the enemies called a truce,
They sat and shared their food and drink, and hostilities were diffused.

They even played a football match, after they had finished dinner
Great granddad Jim was the proudest man, as he had scored the winner.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/1914/