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Poems tagged ‘West Ham’

Germany calling

joe morris

Thursday, April 11th, 2024

It could be the night of nights
But probably won’t be
When push comes to a shove
West Ham
Germany calling
Your country needs you
To be present and correct
Possibly a match too far
Bayern Leverkusen
Racing away with the
Bundesliga
A force of nature
Like a runaway train
Unbeaten since the
Beginning of time
Seemingly so
It could be a formality
For our Teutonic opponents
No real point in turning up
At the lavish German spectacle
Silently Hammers
Resigning themselves to
What will be will be
It was a pleasure
To be associated with
European company
But unless the fates
Know something different
Then tonight marks
The exit point for West Ham
And yet who knows?
Since Liverpool were once
Three down in a Champions League Final
And miraculously won
Against the odds
But harsh reality should intrude
Tonight, yes, the final swansong
For those battle hardened
Warriors from the East End
London Stadium crusaders
We’ll settle for Prague
Last June
Something to salivate over
And pinch ourselves with joy
We’ll take that stirring run
From Jarred Bowen
Head down on goal
Clean through
Before emphatically planting
The ball into the net
West Ham Euro Conference
Memories like golden ingots
Winners of the trophy
We thought we’d never see again
But did
Bayern Leverkusen
We can see you
And although we’d
Like to believe
We might be able to
Embrace this wondrous
Challenge
Realistically not
And yet who’d have
Thought the United States
Could ever beat England
In World Cup conflicts
Of 74 years ago
It materialised before
Our eyes
And dazed astonishment
Ensued
America beat England
The country we’d assumed
Would just crumble
Under the relentless
Onslaught of goals
From England’s green
And pleasant land
So West Ham
David Moyes
Before Lucas Paqueta
Finally decides to
Call it a day
In the East End of London
One more trophy perhaps
Wishful thinking
But then some walked on water
You never, ever know

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Exhausted West Ham

joe morris

Thursday, December 14th, 2023

Oh for the stresses and strains
On another exhausting season
So goes the popular consensus
In the world of David Moyes
You can now hear those creaking,
Groaning, snapping, rapidly
Decaying claret and blue limbs
Another season of aches and pains
At every juncture of the season
Pity for those poor darlings
In the claret and blue camp
How could it be otherwise?
Not even half way through
Domestic servitude
For the happy Hammers
And already the creases
And wrinkles of
Worried brows of sweat
Are draining West Ham
Of essential energy
For forthcoming battles
Besides, we’re just under
A fortnight away from
Festive frivolities
And the punishing demands
Are taking their toll
Not even half way through
Premier League jousts
And David Moyes believes
His side of downtrodden,
Aching tendons and groin strains
And a whole host of sprained
Ankles, toes and back strains
Are seeping into the souls
Of West Ham’s latest European
Odyssey.
The agony, the discomfort
But the last Europa League
Meeting with Freiberg
This is becoming too
Strenuous for words
The Hammers are through
To the next round
Of Europa League adventures
But why the grumpy objections
From Scot of the East End
Since this was the schedule
For the rest of England’s
Football ambassadors
Surely no excuses
No plausible arguments
Since we knew where
West Ham were at the start
Of the season
Spinning
A thousand plates
Weighing up the balance
Of probabilities and
Priorities
But then Moyes
Would have you believe
That the Fulham fiasco
Had to be traced
To players with common colds
The symptoms of flu
Suddenly the London Stadium
Becomes Emergency Ward 10
Or more latterly Casualty
More accident and emergency
Excuses for blowing
Hot and cold in Premier League
Fiercely competitive struggles
Against the bad and the good
Have a rest in a dark room
West Ham United
Rest those fingers, arms,
Legs, knees, shoulders and
Of course toes
You deserve Christmas
Jollities, East End
Claret and blue
Blood pressures
Soaring into the
The stratosphere
Of tiredness
Oh stop the season
Just for a while
Those thighs are in
A state of rebellion
There can be nothing left
In the tank
Slow those flexible reflexes
No longer as supple
As they were back in August
Send them to the Savoy
Or a luxury spa in a
Five star hotel
Fulham was inevitable
You could sense it,
See it, feel it in your bones
But now Freiberg
For the final fandango
In football’s first half
Of the European
Business class
So let’s hear it for
The weeping violins
Or maybe this is just
West Ham grinding to
A temporary halt
For it was ever thus
Unbeaten in four
And then startled
By a Cottage industry
That blossomed with
Ten in two games
So tonight West Ham
Be ready to roll over
German resistance
Since the Sunday
Roasting of Hammers
Pride and joy
Has just disturbed
The status quo
It was one bad day
At Craven Cottage
But it could be
More if the engine
Refuses to spark
And the wheels come off
Before Boxing Day
And we all know
What happened then
An 8-2 bloodied nose
Against Blackburn
Surely hopefully
Never again
So West Ham
Recognise your flaws
And the victory bugle call
Buck up your ideas
Or maybe not
Since it is just a game

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Oh what a claret and blue relief

joe morris

Sunday, May 21st, 2023

Oh what a claret and blue relief
You can almost see the puffed cheeks
West Ham safe from relegation
But quite the most horrendous ordeal
We can see quite clearly
From afar but long enough
To appreciate human emotion
In all of its contrasting moods
Cowering behind sofas
It could only be surely
Be the happy Hammers
Agonisingly unbearable, typical
This could only be West Ham
The wince, those twisted facial
Grimaces of Chinese water torture
Pain, anguished knots of barely
Concealed frustration
Lined faces
Permanently worried
All of those wasted responses
In win or lose settings
On trains going home from
The good natured wars
Of Saturday afternoon long
Ago, etched in our thoughts
Why, but who cares now where
Fear and constant nine
Month wear and tear hangs heavy
Over once thriving clatter
Of East End dockyards
But now we think of today
Now disappointment
Then ecstasy floods across
Their furrowed foreheads
Heads lost in a world of
What might have been
It could all have been so different
But today West Ham hit the mythical
40 points of order
On the penultimate game of the season
Home from home victories
At the London Stadium
Sanctuaries of domestic content
Against a side Don Revie
Once described as the best
In the country
The Leeds of Bremner, Giles,
Lorimer, Jones, Clarke, Sprake
At times unstoppable for the
Right reasons
But then attacked by those
Who satirised their best intentions
The cruel mockery of the Saints
When Leeds gourmandised
On seven of the best against
The Southampton skittles
Sent toppling into oblivion
Sadly though for the Elland Road
Grandstanders, now bowed by history
Today Leeds stand on the brink again
The aching void, the perilous precipice
Staring down balefully
At the relegation trapdoor
When they must have thought
The top flight of football’s
High flyers
Would embrace them like long
Lost uncles
Who just wanted to see hello to
Football’s global family
Glad to see you again, we
Were of course delighted
At this reunion
Today Leeds surrendered to
East Enders in no mood
To sympathise with today’s
Back page notables
3-1 to West Ham
Rice, Bowen and Lanzini
Seal the deal
The Foxes await in their
Dark, nocturnal hideaway
West Ham determined
To be crowned at the King Power
Stadium of all stadiums
Leicester also caught up in
The cross hairs of their own
Doom and gloom
But for West Ham it’s safety
From the dreaded drop
Romford, Newham, Forest Gate,
Ilford, Dagenham, Gidea Park and Romford
Suburbia in saturnalia
Let Bacchus drink endlessly
From the finest East End
Grapes of wanton wine
Celebrate with the best
Never rest until
The ultimate test in Prague

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Prague- here we come.

joe morris

Friday, May 19th, 2023

Oh! Wow, wonderment
Incredulity here
And now
Suspended belief
A mirage surely
West Ham, Prague
Bound, Euro Conference
Finalists
Fornals flying solo
A winner to preserve
In historic perpetuity
Claret and blue
Last night the Dutch
Of AZ Alkmaar never
Cloggers but stylists
And purists most
Certainly
But the happy Hammers
Meet their appointment
With destiny
It’s 1976 again
This time though
Italy rather than Belgium
Fiorentina, still capable
Of worldly sophistication
But this time in early
June,
A collision of cultures
Italy, melodramatic
Plots and Machiavellian
Conspiracies and
Mischievous machinations
Tricks and flicks
Intrigue and mystery
Always on tap
And yet this time
West Ham will be there
Poised to pounce
Should the Italians sulk
And sneer, snarl and
Indulge in self pity
So for 1976
And John Lyall
Read David Moyes
2023
Expectations realistic
But prepare for Prague
In early pages of summer
Maybe it could be this time

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Out of relegation zone but for how long?

joe morris

Monday, January 23rd, 2023

No longer in the drop zone
Relegation put on hold
In that awkward area
Of abeyance but for how
Long. Today but maybe not
After FA Cup battles at
Derby. West Ham clinging on
For dear life, near
Trapdoors yawning but
The Hammers survive
The final chapters of
This January neurosis
Yet another tremble of
Three points
Thank goodness the
Toffees of Everton
Came to the East End
Without a sweet tooth
Hammers negotiating
Nervous, jittery obstacles
Rather like the daunting
Hurdles of yesterday
And the present day
From now on
The most painful struggle
Now on 18 points
But the sharks are still
Circling claret and blue
Waters, poised to bite
With lethal intent
Next on the roster
Newcastle at St James
A terrifying prospect
Since Newcastle are just
Sweeping aside all comers
Renewed, revitalised,
Almost transformed over night
By Saudi petro dollars
Swimming in vivid affluence
Wealth in their every movement
Eddie Howe’s black and white
Stripes, unstoppable
But still within echoing distance
Of City and Arsenal
You can hear the dulcet Geordie tones
The Fog on the Tyne has lifted
Gently, discreetly and decisively
Newcastle have influence on their side
History slowly drifting away
For this is the present day Newcastle
A force of nature, wild, free
Uninhibited as the river that flows
Through the Tyne, goals in thick
Abundance
But on Saturday West Ham
Finally break the spell
Discovering a scientific
Breakthrough, a win,
A victory. It happened
When least expected
While we were patiently waiting
For that last bus
Instinctively, gratefully
To Newham or Dagenham
Claret and blue
Hammers finds Bowen
In double moods of goals
West Ham breathing again
No longer dependent on
Southampton, Wolves,
And Everton for the wind
To blow in the right direction
But danger still stalks
West Ham like a man
In a dark raincoat, collar
Up, Lurking in the alleyways
Sinister sniffs and coughs
Shoes tapping on sodden
Paving stones,
Following claret and blue
Shadows, ready to pounce
On a land of vulnerabilities
West Ham still looking over
Their shoulders, wary
Almost terrified at times
Since the spectre of relegation
Could still grab hold of them
Again
Oh to be a supporter of this
Rickety old organisation
Never sure of their bearings
From one season to the next
Neither top nor bottom
Two European driven seasons
And now lost, almost completely
Lacking in the fundamentals
West Ham threatened by another
Monstrous catastrophe
Relegation again?
And yet it was always
Thus, but not this time
Rise from the ashes
Yes Phoenix you can
Do it West Ham
32 more points for
Premier League safety
Feasibility study
Completed
It can be done
And will materialise
Surely, definitely

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The Last Euro Adventure

joe morris

Friday, May 6th, 2022

Oh it grieves me to say
That claret and blue adventures
Have run their course
Stood the test of time
But no longer
West Ham fall at
Europa League semi final
Hurdle
That was memorable
And yet maybe again
Another day
Glad we were there
To see it all

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West Ham in Europe

joe morris

Friday, March 11th, 2022

Yet more European assignments
For the men in claret and blue
This time in the middle of orange
Groves in succulent sweet
Seville or Sevilla
The juiciest of ties
With little in the way
Of pips but the narrowest
Defeat, where a one goal
Deficit can be redeemed
And the London Stadium
Could be at its most
Melodious, blowing bubbles
In C Major or operatic
Arias, floating freely
From Westfield shopping
Centres, perhaps the Barber
Of Seville, cutting runs
From Bowen, not on duty
Last night injured
But still capable of weaving
Webs, the tie is evenly poised
For West Ham though
The garden is still green
If goals can be found in East
End shrubberies and claret
And blue bushes
West Ham, still emotionally involved
In Europa League conferences
Negotiating Spanish orchards
Of oranges, nectarines and tangerines
But Sevilla
Finely ripened last night
A goal to the good although
Privately dreading
The simmering pressure cooker
At the London Stadium
The Olympic Park
Ready to erupt again
As it once did when
Mo Farrah once kicked
Home for Olympic gold
It could be a rewarding night
For those iron clad Hammers
Indestructible at times
Then leaky and porous as
The kitchen sieve
But now hungry for
More bountiful banquets
Feed Bowen, for Soucek
There can be a Czech mate
If West Ham can pilfer
Crucial pawns, depose
Bishops, remove kings
Vlasic, though, still seems the wrong
Fit, a prickly thorn among
Early spring flowers
A Croatian calamity
In claret and blue
Benrahma’s days in
The East End possibly numbered
Unstoppable at times but not now
Darting and probing here
And there, but uncomfortable,
Ungainly, the exit is that way Said
But Declan was back wearing the
Purple robes, a crowning
Influence, blocking Spanish
Channels of communication
Moving sensually and sinuously
Through the sun flowers of Sevilla
Gliding and sliding with effortless ease
Like the seasoned trouper years
Ahead of his time
Declan Rice this is your stage
West Ham skipper for a while
But summer could bring richer
Pastures at Stamford Bridge, Old
Trafford, even the Etihad
Since multi millions speak the
Most fluent of languages
With full stops and commas
He signs on the dotted line
Of Champions League football
Assuredly
But then there was last night
When Michal Antonio seemed
To have run a thousand marathons
Running for his life
But then finding leggy
Legs, awkwardness at a Spanish
Siesta, Recalcitrant ankles
Pleading for sandy beaches
In the summer rum punch of
Mediterranean warmth
Where buoyant Brits
Land the towels before
The Germans
Claiming proprietorial rights
On those lovingly furnished
Sun beds where sun factor
57, dominates the footballer’s
Mind
West Ham though still in Europe
And ironically Spain where the
Toreador awaits the London
Stadium faithful,
Brandish the cape, ole West Ham
A paella for all we can but hope
They will, a dry red wine
Maybe a chianti to celebrate
Sevilla’s fall, dreamers will
Gather in the Stratford chill
Perhaps spring can yield
A claret and blue summer
To cherish, a trophy to
Call their own, let’s
Wait and see

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Argy Bargy.

kevin raymond

Monday, October 7th, 2019

Watching them, Irons, alight from a barge
and gracefully skip over a myriad of puddles
On their way to the stadium…after, avin it large
Singing their traditional, “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles”.

It suddenly dawned on me, stood in awe on the tow-path
As the blatantly obvious things in life sometimes can?
Is an Iron travelling on a barge, avin it large,
Making haste to the stadium…the quintessential floating fan?

If so? What a right blinding way, to make tracks to the match?
Their singing and impending arrival majestically regal
Well at least until twenty past seven on Saturday evening perhaps?
When their bubble got burst by the claw of an Eagle.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/west-ham/