Poetry Archives
This archive contains every poem that has been published on Football Poets. They are listed ten-per-page in reverse chronological order so the most recent poems appear first. Click or tap the arrows in the corners of the page to navigate between pages. It's easier to use the search form below to find a specific poem.
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Football to Me
Shankly making the people happy
Mooro pristine in his tackles and kit
Banks of England with his safe pair of hands
Chippy Brady darting over the pitch
Adams as stoical as the house made of bricks
Football to me
Paisley and friends three cups at their knees
Ferguson’s treble not forgetting Busby
The fallen of Hillsborough the 96 flame
Dalglish a King no other head fits his crown
With Lennon McCartney singing songs at the ground
Football to me
The Boys of Brazil taught the world how to play
The finest the greatest the Beautiful Game
The Angel Diego whose hand bore the stain
But the 2nd goal godly and washed away shame
Rossi on fire Maldini the same
Football to me
Henry and Zola and Klinsmann makes three
Boots made with miracles Moses agreed
Garrincha Gentile Tardelli and Greaves
Money and madness can never succeed
The passion is priceless and goals flowing free
Football to me.
Places of Poetry (2)
In the boots of a striker
The bliss of a kiss
The quiet of a heron
Pursuing a fish
Upstream and sparkling
Where the wild salmon dart
But most of all
Through the aching capillaries
Of my lost childhood’s heart.
Blue grit leaves Toffees top
Everton 2-2 Liverpool
Mane put the Reds ahead
Keane rises to answer the call
Rodriguez conducts the Blues
Thiago at the heart of it all
Ban Dijk out, Salah volleys in
Yerry Mina far from deft
Calvert-Lewin’s towering header
Restores parity with nine left
VAR is the talking point
Denying Hendo a stoppage time winner
Everton salvage a point
In a Merseyside derby thriller
17 10 20
number7
© emdad rahman
And a Celtic Song Was Sung
In the year of 1967
When the European Cup was won,
My father danced down Maryhill Road
And a Celtic song was sung.
When he took a trip to Parkhead
To watch Celtic’s playing sons,
He would stand within the famous Jungle
And a Celtic song was sung.
When he came home from the Firhill Tavern
With a carry-out in his hand,
We would hear him climb the tenament steps
Were a Celtic song was sung.
When we stood together at Paradise
Over Real Madrid, the Celts had won,
We travelled home full of joy,
Were a Celtic song was sung.
And still this day, I watch the Celtic play
And it is a wondrous thing,
For far above Parkhead’s sky
I can still hear my father sing.
Leaving Five Minutes Before the Game is Over
to avoid the ‘crowds’ at Plainmoor is a misnomer.
It’s like
reading a whodunit and tearing out the final page;
going to a play but not watching the ending on stage;
going out to dine and not finishing your meal;
going to the pictures but not stopping for the second reel;
going to a concert and not waiting for the encore;
or missing United’s ninetieth minute score.
It’s like leaving the celebration before
the bride says I do;
the baby cries boohoo;
the graduates throw their caps;
the Torquay crowd claps.
It’s like
not eating every Rolo in the tube;
but most of all, it’s downright rude.
For Club and Country
He was banging ’em in for his Club,
Then came his Country calling.
Dom pulled on the White Shirt,
And guess what – he kept up the scoring!
Some say it was only a Friendly,
But I say a goal is a goal,
Whether scored in a beach kickabout,
Or a Champions League Final at Wembley.
So ladies and gents raise your glasses,
Drink a toast to Dom Calvert-Lewin,
If he plays his cards right, this prospect so bright
For the next ten years is a shoo-in.
And who can we liken him to?
Bobby Charlton, Geoff Hurst, Stanley Bowles?
He reminds me of fabled King Midas –
All he touches is turned into goals!
11/10/20
Denys E. W. Jones
A Team Brother Walfrid Called Celtic
In the Archdiocese of Glasgow
In the city’s east end,
Brother Walfrid sat with his assistant Brother Dorotheus,
The vision they shared
Was that the poor must be fed
As the dinner tables lay empty for the immigrant Irish.
Brother Walfrid had a dream
That wore Ireland’s emerald green
And would be saviours to the minority Catholics,
The Irish stood at Parkhead
And the football was played
By a team, that Brother Walfrid called ‘Celtic’.
Happy Birthday Johnny Rhythm
You didn’t play football
On the grass of Strawberry Fields
You didn’t wear a red or blue scarf
You didn’t strain yer neck trying to watch
The game from the Kop at Anfield or
The street end at them there Blues
You were too busy listening to Elvis,
Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly
On the back of the bus with Paul
Scribbling the words
That the world would sing to dance to
Dream to to fall in love to
And when you left home
Leaving behind the streets
Of your birth
We sang your songs
To Shankly
Cos he like we all live
In a Red and White Kop.
Places of Poetry
The toes of a dancer
The swish of a kiss
The splash of red ketchup
On lush fish and chips
Upstream and sparkling
Where the wild salmon dart
But most of all
Liverpool Football Club
The place in my heart.
Signor Ancelotti
Mi Scuse but I’m potty
For the charm of Ancelotti
Tho his chosen club of blue
Is not my mighty bold red hue.
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
Sharon Jones
18th October 2020
Sharon Jones
18th October 2020
Emdad Rahman
17th October 2020
Daniel McDonagh
13th October 2020
Dave Martin
12th October 2020
Denys E. W. Jones
12th October 2020
Daniel McDonagh
9th October 2020
Sharon Jones
9th October 2020
Sharon Jones
8th October 2020
Sharon Jones
8th October 2020
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
9th October 2020 at 8:17 pm
Hi Daniel,
Good to see you are still writing about the ‘Tic. Hope all is good with you.
Best, Sharon
See in context
4th October 2020 at 9:52 am
So true mate.
You’re certainly not alone in your thinking. I get incensed sometimes.
Aside from the endless and stillwith its -here once labelled Fergie Time moments ,we now have VAR with its far off decisions by supposed ‘neutrals’ .
So …the supposed influenced ‘integrity’ of refs and neutrals favouritism ?
You could tuck it away into some corner and call it yet another football conspiracy theory, (like analyzing and searching to find which teams refs follow and VAR assistant refs (if we knew ) but it still occurs too often for me.
It raises the question is there such a thing a a real neutral. Everyone who watches football definitely supports or has a soft spot for some club however tenuous..
BTW When I was 10 and the Munich Air Crash happened. i (and many at my school in Fulham) was a Chesea fan but took United on as my second lcub for a season through that awfdul time. Now FGR are my life and my team in the next village and i drum (when we get back) on the terrace at 72 with the young kids and scoff vegan pies and get bwind Dale’s green vision for the planet …
Go well Attila and stry safe with your good lady….
Best Crispin
See in context
18th September 2020 at 5:39 pm
nice one sorting a pic to go with..off to a trial run with several hundfred masked fans v Bradgford at FGR tomorrow
See in context
16th September 2020 at 5:51 pm
Sorted! Cheers. SJ
See in context
6th September 2020 at 6:23 pm
Hi again
This message from Ken via the site.
Ken Storey
mail: kensart@talktalk.net
Message: Message for Sharon Jones. I hadn’t been able to contact you as your email seems to have lapsed and would like to know if you still want your Liverpool Christ painting. Let me know if you want it and when you can pick it up from me at 27 Mentmore Road L18 4PU. Hope you are well. Best wishes Ken Storey
See in context
6th September 2020 at 6:22 pm
Hi Sharon-PLEASE CONFIRM RECEIVED
This request from Gavin via the site. Can you get back to him please. If you don’t want to do it let me know, I might have a go.
Name: Gavin Blackwell
Email: gavinleelee@hotmail.co.uk
Message: Hi,
I am looking to make contact with Sharon Jones to see if can or someone could write a poem from my article The Brutality of life of the football Physio?
Best Regards
Gavin Blackwell
See in context
29th July 2020 at 9:26 pm
Hi Crispin,
I’ve only just seen your comment about a photo of the gates. I will dig one out.
I’ve still not been to The New Lawn but I do hope to get there one day.
Martyn
See in context
29th July 2020 at 6:41 am
Woohoo….sentiment shared Denys.
I thought the huge No 3 on Chelsea’s new shirts strange enough.
Keep on mate.. C
See in context
16th July 2020 at 9:32 pm
Neil,
thanks for introducing us to a poetic form that we haven’t seen or utilized here!
It sets us an interesting challenge!
See in context
16th July 2020 at 5:18 pm
Hi Neil -hope you’re happy with the way it’s laid out. (Thanks Christian). I think from memory, this is the first ever hay(na)ku on Football Poets here on this or the old site in 20 years!
Coincidentally, re C.O.A, Michael Horovitz is very much associated with Stroud and Slad in particular (also the home of Laurie Lee.)
Stroud is where Football Poets as a website began in 2000 and where Michael’s son Adam Horovitz lives. Adam is a fine pastoral and performance poet and a good friend. If you do a search in the search button he does have 4 football poems on here being a Sunderland fan.
Stroud is also close to Forest Green Rovers, who I follow regularly these days, and is also where I am based. I grew up close to Stamford Bridge in London having followed Chelsea for 50 years
Re WBA… Great community club. I worked there several times in the 2000s running anti-racism football poetry workshops with young local school students, as part of their Football In The Community programme
Best wishes
Crispin
See in context