Poems tagged ‘Croatia’
Switzeland Spain & Italy Triumph E24 #2
Magyars toil in vain
Swiss roll over Hungary
in a sea of red
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
with Yamal’s sweet pace
though outnumbered in the stands
Spain lay down their mark
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
shocked from the word go
holders sink Albania
to restore their pride
Petko
They call him Petko
He sunk Brazil in Extra Time
He sunk Netherlands in Extra Time
The Peter Pan of football
Netherlands 2 Croatia 4
Nations League Semi-Final
in Rotterdam
Five Star Spain Again .Day 16 Euro 2020 haiku
five star Spain again
Croatian fightback falls short
Morata the key
England & Croatia’s Day12 ~ Euro 2020 haiku
threat’ning to ignite
England top with seven points
grind out a result
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scotland hearts are crushed
Modric skill denies his age
for Crostia
Memories are Made of This
Remember when the Likely Lads
Wanted to avoid the final score?
Well, this was the exact opposite:
A twenty first century digital version
Where we expect constant updates and news.
But don’t get them.
For alas! There is no signal at all
At twelfth century Llanthony Priory;
And just a fleeting momentary contact
High up in the hills by Offa’s Dyke,
Where you gaze upon blue remembered hills,
And a faint silver gleam in the east:
The River Severn, and the Cotswold hills of home.
But what good is that when you want to know the score?
We started our climb from the Priory,
and asked fellow foxglove ramblers
If anyone knew the score.
No one knew.
No one was bothered.
No one was interested.
We climbed some more.
And reached two box trees,
The remnant, Bill thought, of a box hedge,
Where once a cottage stood,
Where once, Bill thought, slates and shingles were cut,
By some Wordsworthian revenant;
And there, a few yards further on,
A crumbled wall; once, perhaps,
The enclosure for the slater’s cow,
And a once tended vegetable patch:
A Wordsworthian moment, it’s true.
But an imagined solitary
From a reimagined Lyrical Ballads
Could not provide me with the score
From the end of the 18th century,
And nor could the next group of wayfarers.
But the next trio offered hope.
Walkers in red Welsh shirts.
I talked of the recent Wales v Switzerland match,
And, duty done, I thought I could broach the topic:
‘I don’t suppose you know how England are getting on?’
‘Well. Do you know. Up there I had a funny feeling.
I felt that Sterling had scored.’
His mate called out: ‘But that was before they’d kicked off.’
I checked my watch. 3.25.
Are they having me on or not?
We carried on climbing. Phone running low.
A momentary signal and message:
‘Ooh ah Roonata’;
I knew that Charlotte Rooney had drawn
England in the sweepstake. So, this was good news.
But was it a delayed celebration of a goal?
Late coming through? Or the result?
But battery low and signal lost,
I was none the wiser in the heather,
The cotton grass and the billberries.
We carried on climbing.
To reach a cairn high up on Offa’s Dyke.
And here I exhausted my phone with a message to Charlotte
And here I sat, exhausted, with joy and relief:
Her reply: ‘One nil to us.’
Bill, who has no interest in football,
But who enjoys football cliches,
Wondered if I would like more context,
And read, verbatim, the words of the players,
In an old school Private Eye,
Ashen-faced Ron Knee Mockney accent.
It was a signal moment:
Gammon, as it were, declaiming
The words of a new England,
And the new England silencing the boo boys.
This is the new ‘Us’.
Football’s Coming to a new Home.
To a new Us.
That’s how it felt by the cairn, high up on Offa’s Dyke.
I crossed my fingers.
And we came home to Llanthony Priory
For a couple of celebratory pints;
I stood where the monks once sat penitent,
And asked a young man if he knew the result –
He looked as though he might want to know.
‘Old school,’ he said. ‘No signal.
I had to use a pay phone down the road.’
We laughed.
Bill started to sing:
‘Memories are made of this.’
They certainly are.
And I’m dreaming of a new England.
Without the boo boys.
And so when I got home,
I signed this petition:
Raheem, Raheem, Raheem, Raheeem…
A sterling performance
Scenes of afternoon delight
Southgate’s outfit portray a suave slick , sartorial elegance,
A bunch a deft dapper dandies, and…not a waistcoat in sight.
England Win! Day 3. Euro 2020 haiku
Sterling makes his mark
England take that first sweet step
with their fans in voice ~
WC2018 Day 25 FINAL – haiku
Parc de Triomphe
Mbappe inspires the Gauls
Allez Les Blues
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Runners up, yet
Croatia proud as can be
Gave it their all
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Got what we wanted
Six goal fitting finale
World Champions France
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Final had it all
Six goals and V.A.R. too
French profit
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cryuff of the Balkans
Player of the Tournament
Runners up medal
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thibaut Courtois
Magnificent net minder
Golden Gloves award
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arise Sir Harry!
Six goals netted overall
Golden Boot award
Conspiracy Theory or VARsh Reality?
Corner kick in his mind
Eyeballs the monitor behind
Before racing back on to the field…
Vlad appears on the miniature screen
Snarling, broody like, mean,
“Right sunbeam this here’s the deal…
Your blossoming movie career
Finishes here
Unless them French boys get awarded this pen
I’m meeting McDonald in Helsinki this week
Could pull a few Hollywood strings so to speak?
Or there’s the Gulag my son, then again…”?
Said pen gets knocked in
France go on and win
Croatia’s complaints – like their hopes – disappear
In a Moscow hotel bathroom mirror
A referee takes time out to deliver
His winning speech for The Oscars next year.
Does the above make any sense?
Or am I talking absolute nonsense?
Well…no-one’s saying you have to believe me?
But this here conspiracy theory
Holds more credence, I’m sure you’ll agree,
Than yesterdays VARsical World Cup reality?
VARcically Les Bleus ~haiku
France 4-2 Croatia
spoiling things again
VAR the villain here
on this final night
never lying down
oh how brave Croatia fought
when injustice reigned
never at their best
once again Les Bleus emerge
trophy in their hands
yes they have the skills
in Pogba and Mbappe
but only in bursts
one strange ending this
to a wild enthralling month
here in Russian rain
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Welcome to Football Poets -- a club for all football poets, lovers of football and lovers of (alternative) poetry. Discover poets in every league from respected internationals at the top of their game to young hopefuls in the school playground.
Publish your football poems here and then discuss them with your team mates and fans. We're archived by The British Library, so your masterpieces are in the safe hands of a world-class keeper. What a result!
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Latest Comments
13th September 2024 at 6:14 pm
Welcome to Football Poets Beth
Great evocative poem Beth….
More please !
Haiku always welcome.
Hope we (FGR) get to play you again soon
Best
Crispin
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26th July 2024 at 6:25 pm
Great poem Mike Bartram. Eddie was a legend, affectionately known in Liverpool as, “the first hooligan.” Even the hoolies were well dressed in those days. The amazing thing was he was only 26 when that picture was taken. He’d played for Everton youth team and was well known to the players. He never got arrested. They threw him out and he climbed back in, just in time for Derek Temples winner.
I used the picture of him being tackled to the ground on the front cover of my book, “Once Upon a rhyme in Football.” It’s worth looking on youtube and finding the re-enactment of the Wembley scene. Frank Skinner and Baddiel went around to Eddies home in the 1990’s and acted it out on the green outside. It’s hilarious, especially all the effort they put in to get Eddie sober enough to shoot the scene.
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10th July 2024 at 6:07 pm
Hi Crispin,
I don’t know if you’ve see the picture in social media today…
a picture of a teenage Lionel Messi cradling a baby in Africa as part of a photoshoot…. the family had won a lottery to have their baby pictured with him….
the photographer has just revealed that the baby is actually in fact Lamine Yamal!!!!
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26th May 2024 at 2:30 pm
Hi Denys…
Re Man City:
OK it was 20 years ago but Criag Wilson did write this and a few others on them back in 04/05.
BTW I’m more Forest Green Rover since 2014 (and Chelsea) these days . I drum and am a standing season ticket holder .
Best
Crispin
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29th April 2024 at 2:47 pm
Hi Denys,
Yes Richard Williams you’re a brilliant wordsmith, my friend. When I first saw your football poetry I thought it was the superb Guardian sports and music writer. I once had the honour of sitting next to Richard Williams while at the Independent on the sports desk. He writes about music and sport with immense knowledge and authority. I’ve read a couple of Richard’s books recently. Great writer rather like you Richard Williams the Pompey fan. Congratulations on promotion.
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28th April 2024 at 5:59 pm
Thanks Denys. Yes your replay poem was superb.
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26th April 2024 at 4:46 pm
Nice work, Joe. You were quick off the mark with that! Good one from Richard Williams too I see.
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25th April 2024 at 7:33 pm
Hi Denys,
Thanks mate. I’ll do it now.
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25th April 2024 at 1:56 pm
Thanks Joe,
you might like to write a poem yourself on the same subject…
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23rd April 2024 at 4:03 pm
Hi Denys
With you all the way on the abolition of FA Cup replays. What are they doing to the game?
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