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Poems tagged ‘Spurs’

Game of Beauty

Clik The Mouse

Thursday, May 9th, 2019

Game of Duty:
take your pick, either or both, provided great drama
bettered again just days later
by ‘Pool beating Barca
only unbelievably
the drama ratcheted up even more, the following night
as Spurs slipped 3 goals behind on aggregate, versus Ajax
and then we witnessed, the mother of all comebacks
and the sight of an Argentinian hard-man crying
for there could be no denying
that Pochettino, has worked miracles
as has Klopp –
so who will be King of the Crop?
who is it, on 1st June
will make us swoon
and in the media zones
ascend to the Line of Thrones?!?

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Back in time down White Hart Lane

Graham Salter

Tuesday, March 26th, 2019

As a child I drew crowds; row upon row,
fifteen thousand little circles for the fans,
some high in the stands, some arrayed on the Shelf
cradled by that tight encircling wall
(I’m capturing White Hart Lane
at the start of the Hunter Davies years)
the groundlings penned behind a white perimeter fence,
watching Bobby Smith, Maurice Norman, Greavsie and Cliff Jones.
Now look up, see what Archibald Leitch has designed,
Like the gondola on a Zeppelin, a long white press-box
Above it a clock
And on that a ball
Then a cock
Then a sky,
No whiter than a Tottenham Hotspur shirt

I tried to go back in the Nineties; the old East Stand had gone
Someone was banging an anti-semitic drum
(ironically I suppose)
Not sure I like this, to be frank.
Maybe this is Spurs’ way of getting their masochism in first
“Always equalise before the opposition score”
and I can’t help thinking
If Sigmund Freud ever wandered up the Seven Sisters Road
From Hampstead
He’d have a field day

But the Spurs go marching on, they do
To a new home and a new Lane
So there’s my prosaic bit of doggerel
(Hang on to the ball for me, and don’t forget the cockerel)

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Kepa the leper

Clik The Mouse

Thursday, February 28th, 2019

an act of dissent
meant
disbarment
to the bench
while the stench
of mutiny
lingered

Sarri fingered
as dead man walking
meanwhile Kepa?
treated
like a leper

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A Swindon Town Remembrance Pilgrimage

Stuart Butler

Sunday, November 11th, 2018

We must have numbered a football team,
Umbrellas unfurled at the cenotaph,
Where we spoke of Walter Tull and Spurs,
And Swindon Town and Northampton Town
Footballers who fell in the Great War –
The rain providing a suitably melancholy backdrop,
As we made our hilltop climb to Christ Church,
A welcoming peal rather than a knell
Resonating across the Old Town sky,

While we gathered, inside, by the war memorial,
Inscribing George Bathe’s name on a remembrance cross,
George Bathe, STFC, KIA 1915,
A memento mori for all to share,
Carried by George’s great-nephew, Phil,
Before we made our blue plaque way to Radnor Street,
To talk of Freddie Wheatcroft, star Swindon striker,
Killed in Action,
And Alfred Williams, the Railway Poet,
And the writer Edward Thomas who loved Swindon so much,
Killed in Action.

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