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Poems tagged ‘Burnley’

O Me of Little Faith.

kevin raymond

Sunday, October 27th, 2019

After giving Pulisic,
Untold, untold negative shtick
He schleps up to the grave-yard of Turf Moor,
Where not only does he score?
But…goes on to bag himself…a perfect hat-trick*.

Leaving me and any other stupid eejit
Above in the Gods of Heaven where I sit,
Had the gall to question our revered Christian,
(The answers Yes, I’m indeed a fickle man)
Looking like an absolute di…p-stick.

I guess what I’m trying to say?
To ye fellow Blues of little faith
Don’t be making false assumptions
Let’s give a geezer some encouragement
Out there going at it for us, midst the fray.

Truth is, he’s hardly had a kick this season
So there really ain’t a decent reason
For simply tossing him to The Lions (No!)
The Wolves, or even worse…them Irons( Whoa!)
When despite his fee, he appears to be at least half decent…

Sez I…eating humble apple pie, like Pulisic, from the good old U.S.A.

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Burnley burnt to perfection

Emdad Rahman

Tuesday, October 8th, 2019

Burnley 0-3 Liverpool

With a little bit of fire in the belly
It’s a thirteenth win on the trot
Things looked far worse on the telly
When Mane almost lost the plot

Trent upfield is more than good
A cross with a flicker of hope
Glancing the back of Chris Wood
Surprising and beating Nick Pope

Ben Mee to Bobby to Sadio
The Senegalese makes no mistake
Salah tees up Firmino
Now for the international break

31 08 19

number7
© emdad rahman

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This Football Life

Sharon Jones

Wednesday, February 13th, 2019

In a certain light
My son looks like the grand-father he never knew
My son, all grown up,
A Burnley born boy with Scouse blood coursing through his veins
But most of all in his sardonic sense of humour
His grandfather would’ve loved him as much as I do

My father is present by his absence
31 years ago today he passed
And we didn’t speak for four years before
Locked into a defiant angry silence that killed both of us in different ways
But as a child from the best view
Safe atop his shoulders, I found Liverpool, Shankly, Home

I look at my son
With his wry smile,
Standing upright in the world, finding his place
Loving his footie and sharing his stories with me
Just like his grand-dad once did with his child
And I know forgiveness.

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