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Poems tagged ‘World Cup’

Too Few Blues haiku

Dachlan Cartwright

Sunday, June 10th, 2018

Argie Geordie Viking
Funes Pickford Sigurdsson
Silvery Brandstanding

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Ray Wilkins 1956 – 2018

Emdad Rahman

Thursday, April 5th, 2018

At the tender age of eighteen
Stamford Bridge he made his mark
The boy did ‘dangerously well’
A class act on and off the park

Deft touches and radar passes
Is how we’ll celebrate Ray
That lob and chip against Belgique
Elegant and masterful play

An FA Cup final curler
Ray rocked the mic at Wembley
He valued the small people
The cleaner, the fan, the trainee

Old Firm stunner for that Ibrox hero
Today he’d be England’s Pirlo
Leggenda Rossonera
Ciao Ray from the San Siro

number7
©emdad rahman

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BECKHAM’S FREE KICK BRINGS ENGLAND INTO THE WORLD CUP

Alfredo Iván Álvarez

Monday, December 4th, 2017

The English fog sets in the sky.

For qualification
in front of the blue forest
Beckham has taken
the Excalibur sword
out of the stone and the steel
shines on his leg.

While he awaits
the whistle of hostilities
in the forest he sees
blue Greek shadows
following every rose
that attempts to bloom alone.

When the whistle sounds
one only darkness awakes
breaking the tombstone
built 9 meters in front–

His saber caresses
a silver bent in the sky
glittering a plated path
through out the day:

The ball daring dawn
ran atop the perfect depth
hacking the bay and ward
and slashing the jugular of the net.

The goal bleeds.
Like dying inertia
Greek navy shadows
are turned to ghosts.

One only rosebush
of many Britain buds
blooms on the field:

Unbent, an English vapor ship
sails across the grandstands.

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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/world-cup/page/5/