Poems tagged ‘Pre-Season’
Hammers in America
West Ham now in the
Land of the Free
Where Trump and Biden
Swap elderly status
Hammers in Disneyland
A big kids playground
In fabulous Florida
Trump, still babbling absurdities
Biden, lost in a world of confusion
Oh poor Joe
Meanwhile the claret and blue
Latest edition
Building empires
Tortured at times with
Transfer hearsay
Linked with players
From every continent
Throughout the world
At least a thousand
On the last count
But maybe an exaggeration
Lopetegui, mixing and matching
With new fangled philosophies
Imprinting his mindset
West Ham, learning the ropes
Under radical regimes
Beaten by Palace in
Palatial form
A 3-1 setback for
Those East End entertainers
But still finding their feet
At the court of our Spanish
Toreador, bullish yesterday
But no need to panic
Just yet
More new arrivals
Summerville, the new Rembrandt
On the London Stadium easel
Art and beauty
So hard to find
At the beginning of August
But they’ll get there
Still though, a work in progress
Today Wan Bissaka perhaps
From United’s Theatre of Dreams
Waiting in the wings
The roar of the greasepaint
Aaron awaits the claret and blue
Reception committee
His stage to shine
Much needed defensive strength
And security, locking doors
On creaking hinges
WD 45, just a drop
Of oil needed
For a decent season
Then the great striker conundrum
Fulkrug, German goal machine
But 31, worrying but perhaps
The dream solution
Up front for a Hammers
Hankering desperately after
Another Pop Robson, Tony Cottee
Frank Mcavennie, just to
Keep recent seasons momentum
Alive but now firing
On all cylinders
We must hope
Forget Duran and the reflex
Villa, demanding a kings ransom
So West Ham
Enjoy those roller coaster rides
In the country that gave us
Hollywood glamour and schmaltz
A plethora of pancakes
To sweeten the pill of defeat
Meet and greet Mickey and Donald
But remember where you are
In a fortnight
It’s the late summer virility
Of vivacious Villa
Unai Emery’s Champions League
Bravehearts this season
Opening day jitters
Oh no, not again
What we’d give for that
Rarest of species
A West Ham victory
Just before the first
Conker fall of autumn
If the engine and carburettor
Are working, then who knows?
It could be the season to savour
But how often have we said that?
A brand new Stratford project
We can but hope.
The Claret and Blue land
So here we are again
Ready and braced for
Another nine month marathon
Of Premier League hot air
And classic cameos
Local rivalries and
Household names,
Legendary spats,
Familiar friends
And foes, thrilling
Contests and battles
And then there was
The Land of Claret and Blue
In the heat of East London
Your genuine Hammers
West Ham go flamenco,
Paella for tea,
Matadors at half time
Julen Lopetegui
Spanish Harlem
At the London Stadium
No Inquisitions required
Just a delicious hors d’oeuvre
Of European Championship winning
Style of football,
Hopefully,
Followed by a rare to medium
Chateaubriand steak of
Quality
Gastronomic heaven
But today we learn
Of Colombians scheming
Behind the scenes
Surely no drug cartels
Amid the West Ham academy
Oh no simply not, never
The Hammers always do clean,
Pure and puritanical
Duran due in the East End
But, hold on,
Since when did Simon Le Bon
Have any allegiance to the
Iron clad Irons?
Wan Bissaka was about to
If not quite join West Ham
Then he was close, in the vicinity
Of the Happy Hammers
Approaching the front door
Then advanced negotiations
Became a stagnant pool of water
Just the daftest of rumours
The first transfer window shut
Firmly in claret and blue faces
Meaningless transactions
That may as well have been
Double Dutch, whatever that meant
Kyle Walker Peters,
Yet more hyphenated Hammers
A year since James Ward Prowse
Became a fully fleged JWP
KWP was just a whisper
At the back of the classroom
Dissolving and melting in
Transfer factory gossip
We do though, have three
A breathtaking Brazilian blend
Luis, barely out of
The school playground
Glorious Guilherme
And Wes Fotheringham
Another goalkeeper
Just in case Alphonse
And Fabian falter and
Lose their way
Some of us do like
The sound of Ivan Toney
From the buzzing Bees
Goal scoring oozing honey
Danes demanding ransom
Tomas Frank wants at least
A billion for Ivan
Certainly not the Terrible
Tomas, it’ll be a pleasure
To do business with you
So deals still in the pipeline
Nothing concrete in the jungle
Of football’s dangerous
Back waters
Just shifty, nudge nudge wink
Wink, know what I mean
And before you can say VAR
It’ll be back as inevitably
As Christmas, then the
August opener against fellow
Claret and blues
It could be a vintage year
For either
Strawberries and dream / different strokes
Thwack!
Cold, hard steel smites tightly wound rubber banded core – Fore!
The least times the better
Thwack! (grunt!)
Steely-eyed metronome smites steel-edged hi-tensile cat-gut against
Rubber-encased pressurised air, over a taut net
The least times the better
Thwack! (grunt!) ouch!
A steel-edged hoe smites rock solid ground
To little or no horticultural effect
The least times the better
We’re now in that hazy, lazy void of a calendar
Even post AfCON, Copa America, WWC
Oh how I long for the surety
Where each thwack, could be boot to ball, or
Well-timed clash of well-honed bodies colliding, fairly
Where each strike of the ball is aimed, to settle squarely
IN the net
The more times the better
would choose / chews wood
On a glorious mid-summer’s day
when the solar-source commands us to
do-nothing-but-sit-out-and-read
and even gets us to
skip-the-tv-grunt-grunt-baseline-chaseline-at-SW19;
instead, I watch the dogged determination
of the crinkly, wrinkly-nosed pup entitled Archie
as he gnaws animatedly on numerous sticks
a demented shredding machine, but with no baler!
I switch back to the Sunday paper –
ignoring the front pages, which are covered
in choice Christening snaps, of Archie’s privileged namesake;
no, my interest is purely in the Sports Section
(too soon for any significant Tour de France news)
so it’s the footy feature that fascinates:
Lamps set to shine again at the Bridge
Pogba stirring
disappointment of 4th place for the Lionesses
and just general transfer gossip, like….
Who will switch to whom?
Who will end up with splinters on a new bench?
Who will put in wooden performances? Perhaps at Forest?
Who will be going of their own volition?
Who will be going as a makeweight?
Who’s next, for Pep to make great?
All sizzling tittle-tattle, on a sizzling day
the sun continues to perform its searing miracle
the incessant rays shutter-down the eyelids….
Archie continues to chew / coo (take your pic) (sic)
About This Site
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!
My Account
Latest Poems
kevin halls
10th November 2024
joe morris
10th November 2024
Clik The Mouse
10th November 2024
Clik The Mouse
6th November 2024
Alex Saynor
6th November 2024
joe morris
29th October 2024
joe morris
17th October 2024
Denys E. W. Jones
16th October 2024
joe morris
11th October 2024
Mike Bartram
11th October 2024
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
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
See in context
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.
See in context
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!!!!
See in context
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
See in context
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.
See in context
28th April 2024 at 5:59 pm
Thanks Denys. Yes your replay poem was superb.
See in context
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.
See in context
25th April 2024 at 7:33 pm
Hi Denys,
Thanks mate. I’ll do it now.
See in context
25th April 2024 at 1:56 pm
Thanks Joe,
you might like to write a poem yourself on the same subject…
See in context
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?
See in context