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Poems tagged ‘Nostalgia’

Ground Zero

Dennis Swift

Tuesday, January 31st, 2017

There’s a new sensation that’s going around
Like changing the name of your team’s ground
It takes a while to get used to a new name
And to many of the fans it isn’t quite the same

Take Bolton Wanderers who aren’t the only one
It was the Reebok Stadium now it’s the Macron
The fans didn’t like it and still they all say?
“We’re going to the Reebok to see the Whites play”

Newcastle United now who would have thought?
By ground changing name left fans distraught.
Without St James Park our fans cannot connect
Especially with the name Sports Soccer Direct

But we’ll have to get used to changes like this
whilst the fans continue to reminisce
The sponsorship money keeps some clubs afloat
Because sentiment’s no match for a Banknote.

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Givvus a Song

S B Ingle

Thursday, October 13th, 2016

In the 70’s you used to hear them sing
“We are the Barclay Boot Boys”
Added atmosphere that away fans would bring
Tribal singing was one of footballs greatest joys

We got older, they changed the ground
We changed stands, we all moved around
All sat in a small, numbered plastic seat
It took something special to get us on our feet

Changes to the Barclay meant one corner was filled in
Ex-Barclay boys moved across, new songs were drilled in
“We’re the Snake Pit, we’re the Snake Pit over here”
In reply to the “We’re the Barclay over here”

It would go on for ages Barclay, Snake Pit, Barclay Snake Pit
Then came ‘our’ moment – right to reply, this was it!
‘Sing Up the Jarrold!’ And we’d give a shy little chorus
We’re the Jarrold over here, (yes it was really us)

Then things changed again, our stand got new sponsors
And now we’ll sing no more
It’s such a shame, we’d just warmed up
We were getting ready to roar

It took 12 years to get us to sing
Normally, it should be said, we wouldn’t boast
But, it’s a thing of the past, as we’re now
“The-South-Stand-sponsored-by-the-Galway-Roast”

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Curtain Call

Mike Bartram

Tuesday, October 11th, 2016

Near silent grounds, though the stadiums are full.
The atmosphere of old, I think they’re out to cull.
Corporate boxes and suites, the way they want to go.
They within many a fans budget, I hardly think so!
A vibrant Spion Kop, a noisy Stretford End of old.
Is what we need today, no matter what we’re told.
Through the turnstile early, cash of course in hand.
Find your ‘spec’ and keep it, the only place to stand!
No fancy concourse then, a little snack bar did the trick.
Now it’s like a high street, every box they want to tick.
We all want match safety and a freedom of choice for all.
But grounds are becoming theatres, just add a curtain call.
I will support any action for standing to make a return.
Every lesson has been dealt with, that there was to learn.

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My first boots

Geoff Tabrah

Saturday, August 13th, 2016

my-boots

My first pair of boots I’ll have you know,
Were made of old leather, and cramped at the toe.
Ankle high with laces so long,
And a crinkled flap they called a tongue.
Studs worn down with lots of use,
The stitching in them coming loose.
Handed down from an uncle of mine,
He’d got some new one’s, they’d served their time.

Standing proud in Stanley Park,
Before the gates closed, it was getting dark.
A tennis ball lying there on the grass.
My whistle blew, and I made my first pass.
Running like mad, I received the ball,
Kicked for goal, missed, and had a fall.
I played for ten minutes and beat everyone,
The game played by myself, the first one I’d won.

Home again, I brushed off the mud,
Cleaned underneath, around each stud.
Picking the grass from all the lace holes,
Getting them ready to score more goals.
Tomorrow I’ll ask mum to get some Dubbin,
I’ll work it in with lots of rubbin.
I’m a footballer now; just you wait and see,
We’ll have to practice, them boots and me.

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In The Year of 66

Crispin Thomas

Monday, August 1st, 2016

In the year of 66
glad to be alive
mirrors on my Vespa
TV 175
we were tasting freedom
school was long and gone
working in the city
trying to find our song
and I get misty-eyed sometimes
thinking back to then
and days when England triumphed….
will we see them again?

Motown on the player
Soul to R & B
from a Mod to Hippy
hanging at the Scene*
Otis Redding James Brown
Dylan called the tune
Four Tops and Temptations
in my bed-sit room..
nights at the Flamingo*
Georgie Fame would play
all night at La Discotheque*
and home at break of day
Beatles played their last live gig
change was coming soon
King’s Road boutiques blasting out
‘Sunny Afternoon’
Summer in the city
magic in the air
fever grew as we got through
excitement ev’rywhere
and we were part of something
a simpler People’s Game
and scenes we saw in sixty six…
will we see them again?

players on our level
we were working class
rattles hats rosettes and scarves
in that long gone past
poetry in motion
ran throughout the team
as a nation held its breath
caught up in the dream…
Bobby Charlton’s bursting runs
Stiley’s toothless grin..
watching on the black and white
as Hursty banged them in ~
still as clear as yesterday
here inside my head
diff’rent days and diff’rent times
diff’rent lives we led
and in the street we shared it all
from bomb sites to the park
World Cup matches with our mates
there til after dark
something oh so special
fifty years ago
we were young and having fun
but old enough to know
the moments that we went through
we grasped them with both hands
there before our ‘teles’
right across the land….
and i still get that feeling
the wonder tinged with pain
and scenes we saw in sixty six….
will we see them again?

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/nostalgia/page/3/