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Poems tagged ‘Chelsea’

Black and Blue (for Paul Canoville)

Greg Freeman

Monday, June 7th, 2021

As the boos rang out at the Riverside
I remembered my team’s
first black player
coming on as sub in the 80s,
the storm of hate from the Shed.

The shock and anguish I felt,
wondering if I could continue
to follow the Blues.
Of course, somehow, I did.
Football’s coming home?

They’re still out there, they haven’t
gone away, these ‘patriots’
who barrack their national team
before a European tournament,
before they’ve even kicked off.

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On A Magic Porto Night

Crispin Thomas

Sunday, May 30th, 2021

on a stage where dreams come true
City sure they’d see it though
ev’rything within in their hands
very few could understand
how despite their buoyant fans
Chelsea could destroy their plans
pundits pointing clearly to
this one turning lightest blue
on a magic Porto night
all predictions soon took flight

in a daunting Covid year
fans all scrambling to be there
bumped up tickets few to spare
costly flights and tests to share
underdogs before the start
driven on by guts and heart
few would tip them Pep would trip them
Blues would slip and City clip them

early probing quicky sorted
James dictating Sterling thwarted
fans ecstatic pace is hectic
open play at times electric
like a mower through the grass
Mount delivers such a pass
Havertz sets off on his own
rounds the keeper slots it home
now it’s backs against the wall
who will rise and who will fall?
Tuchel’s begging to the crowd
roar us on and make it loud
City throw on ev’ryone
has Aguero’s moment come?
counting seconds tick away
can the Blues hold on today?

meanwhile Kante’s dominating
like some busy bee creating
in the middle tracking back
striding forward in attack
sliding-tackling pocket-picking
ever present ball-nicking
just like Joey Cole I swear
Kante’s flipping ev’rywhere
sometimes it’s hard to explain how he just controls the game
oozing class with ev’ry pass
Kante sees them home again
barely time to think or pause
at the end they’re on all fours
City still to reach their dream
what a final we have seen
one thing’s certain here for sure ..
Chelsea lift the cup once more

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Just Imagine?

kevin raymond

Sunday, May 9th, 2021

Hakim strokes one in the net
Game on, we’re in control
Marcos/Callum, via a subtle duet?
Ensure Etihad party games on hold.

Pep ain’t best pleased, let’s be fair
T’was a nailed-on pen, I have to say
While Sterling squat on his derriere
Could have walked, the walk another day?

I sense the pressure building through it all
Watching that feeble Aguero take
How I’d Love to have been a fly on the wall
In the home team dressing room at the wake?

Just imagine; Crazy Horse,
Chopper Harris, Tommy Smith
Johnny Giles, and Big Jack, of course
Sucking oranges, chomping at the bit…

Bending Sergio Aguero’s lug-ole’s…
Bout the diabolical spot-kick missed,
Disrespecting his fellow pro’s,
Nonchalantly…trying a take the pith?

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Unsung Hero

kevin raymond

Friday, May 7th, 2021

70% of our world is covered in aqua
As any well-read scholar knows?
The remainder? By N’Golo Kante, snapping at ya
The moment that first whistle blows!

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Adios T.C. Who’s He?

kevin raymond

Thursday, May 6th, 2021

Sticking it to a fading giant bereft a fight
On a rain-swept Stamford Bridge last night
The home side come to realize their class
Revenge is sweet, so the saying goes,
On a former custodian, once kept goal
Deemed now as a right snake in the grass.

Another night, shooting sights aligned
The old adage…take your bleating time,
Five or six at least might have blitzed their sodden net?
Pay-back to a, let me take a hike, or I’ll go on strike,
Sloped off to Madrid, like a tea-leaf in the night
Us paying Partisan’s, in the stands won’t let forget!

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Sacre Bleu!

kevin raymond

Monday, April 26th, 2021

Leaning down to gather up the sphere
By hordes of baying Blues assembled near
I wonder what Henry, the French ace thought of us?
Poised to take a corner kick
He stood confused at accurately being hit,
By a hail of celery stalks, bouncing off his coiffured nut?

Us fans broke out a song we Loved to sing
The lauded French ace sporting a sheepish grin
Turned n smiled as celery rained down thin n thick
Though we didn’t mean French Bonhomme no harm
He exuded charm, and a modicum of calm
Shrugged his shoulders, hoofing in the corner kick.

Poignant moments appear now and again
Like a Walsall night stood sopping in the rain
Blinding memories to truly pass the test a time
I remember quelle surprise on Henry’s boat,
“Celery, celery”, reverberating in my throat
Like t’was yesterday, and so worthy of a rhyme!

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I Wonder. Did I Ever Tell Yer…

kevin raymond

Monday, April 26th, 2021

Knew this fella, knew a fella
Old lags in The Boob together
For a little bit a TDA, while absolutely stocious drunk?
Every Saturday after-noon, in their cell
They joshed each other merry hell
Tuned in to Five-Live, lounging on her Madge’s bunk.

“Kev, we didn’t hardly ever ruck
Life in our Dingly? Sweet as hazel-nut
Till in The Derby, Tottnem miss a sitter
The sarcastic comments, guy lets fly
Set-off a ginormous hue n cry
Turning Spurs fans on our landing proper bitter.

Blimey, if only I tumbled him a Gooner
Would a dropped the loser sooner
T’was him what caused me stuck there in The Boob
Anyways, I cheer on Spurs, despite a slight conundrum,
With, “There’s only one team in North West London”,
Coz as you know, I’m through n through a Blue like you”.

“So, what landed the pair of you in The Boob?”,
“Well, we’re “Over the water” having had a lube
Tube Station shut, can’t hail a sherbet dab
We stagger in a South Westerly destination
Seeking a night bus to Fulham Broadway Station
A little worse for wear, due to shandy’s had.

Anyways, near The Crystal Palace ground
You’ll never guess what us two found?
An eerie garage rammed with resting double-deckers”,
“Right, we’ll soon be good to go to Fulham Broadway
Hi-jack one of these, we’re right as day
Just see me out son, that done, I’ll pull up and get yer”.

“Kev, so I see him out to the main road
Where I quickly have it on my toes
And wait for him to pick me up, in the dead a night
But, the hi-jacked double-d flies by
Him waving at me (I thinks) bye-bye
Perturbed, I chase the bus to catch it at the lights.

Banging on the passenger door
Kev, you should have heard me roar?
Like a Banshee, proper vexed at my accomplice
“Let me on, you no good so n so”,
I’m screaming at this hi-jacker, I hardly know
His reply, “Can’t you read the sign son…Out of Service?”.

“Anyways, I prise open the emergency door
Just as the long arm of local law
Come blue lights flashing, roaring round a hairpin bend
Another ten minutes I swear to you Kev?
That Gooner might have been brown bread
Eejit, displaying, Out of Service, instead of…The Worlds End”.

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Abridged Version.

kevin raymond

Sunday, April 18th, 2021

Our…TT’s simply magnifique
Grasped the reins from Frank
Could have had it large at PSG?
But…they ain’t worth a franc
Another Wemberly tie awaits CFC
Implanted in our DNA
What a blinding sight, on a balmy night to see,
TT racing down the touch-line, sending City on their way!

Repeat n repeat n repeat!

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Derby Day Fanter.

kevin raymond

Friday, April 2nd, 2021

Touching seventy, wizened, livid as sin
Nicotine dentures, knotted scarf, curlers in
By the time, a breath-gasping interval came
Down,“The Lane”, midst an exasperating game
She’d hordes a South West Londoners querying…
Our legitimacy, at birth, in the main?

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Mind Games.

kevin raymond

Wednesday, March 10th, 2021

Twenty minutes in
Sweet F.A happening
Their goal seemed unattainable at best?
Passing sideways, if not back
We couldn’t muster an attack
Till a mustard stroke put all a that to rest…

Diminutive figure leaves the bench,
“Ay, ay what’s all this then?”,
Purr’s I between sweet sips of Yorkshire Tea?
The simple act of warming-up a sub
Caused startled cherubs on the mud
To quickly get their derrieres’, in gear a.s.a.p.

A deflection, then a pen
Our mojo back again
I could hear our Thomy, pleading on the night,
“Oi Timo, you know that white rectangle is a goal?
Oh, und just confirm when you’ve a mo,
You’ve sussed out which is left und what is right?”

Absolutely flying at the finish
We might have won by five or six
If fortune deemed the cards should fall our way?
Hakim Ziyech didn’t grace the field that day
Yet from the touch-line tis fair to say…
He played his part, although he didn’t actually play!

 

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/chelsea/page/2/