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.
It’s no Pie in the Sky
When the feathers all fly,
When the big man went off
And returned with a pie.
He stood on the side-line
Enjoying each bite,
But it didn’t go down well
As he picked the wrong night.
Marching orders came Suttonly
And he’s now on his way,
I Bet he regrets choosing
That Play of the Day.
With thousands just waiting
For one of their players to score.
And then it just happened,
The breakaway came
And the goalie laid stretched on the floor.
His gloved hands reached out
But the ball rolled on past
And the crowd went ballistic
As their team scored at last.
That’s football for you
And for all the supporters
As the cheering and singing
Rings out from all quarters.
What is it about football
That stirs hearts and souls?
It is more than the game
And it’s more than the goals.
I can’t explain it,
Others may try,
But it comes down to passion
For a game that won’t die.
Ianthe Exall February 2017
So our top lad has gone off to referee
In the land of milk and honey
Issuing cards and blowing his whistle
In conditions warm and sunny.
But when I wore my suit of black
And took abuse that was was not funny
But I grew to be thick skinned
For my ‘Tabs’ and beer money.
Watching the sky change from Petticoat Tower,
on the top floor a widower
scans the gold of morning, hassle of twilight,
glimpses the holy land as old animosities
settle over gin and lemonade
with the old boy from the ground floor
with the frame. Past rivalries fade
as we look down on the metropolis,
running over memory’s lines and points,
distant rays lighting up Cliff’s face
at South Bermondsey after Millwall v Fulham
in February sun after the quietness
of the Kipper Season, staring down the track
following another hard-fought 0-0 at The Den.
the man who sets the game alight
like fire from tiny twigs
and with a sigh he dances by
the towering – the big
the man who loves to improvise
the concentrating eyes
the teasing shift the grace the twist
all cloaked in sweet disguise
the man who stands there like a child
with dribbling on his mind
the shoulder drops he turns he stops
then leaves them all behind
we watch in wonder and bemused
what happened to last season?
the magic flows the Garden grows
who doesn’t love our Eden?
They had names you could relate to,
Colman, Taylor, Edwards.
Names that you’d hear at pit-heads,
Whelan, Pegg, or Byrne
or up at t’mill,
like Jones or Bent.
Cloth cap names
who went to work on the bus
with their supporters.
Two years the Champions.
Two false starts.
Third time lucky?
It wasn’t to be.
lost after drawing away
who will live in our hearts,
though their beloved game
has died forever.
19th December 1896
EVERTON 4 STOKE 2
21st February 1884
EVERTON 9 GOLBORNE 0
18th January 1890
EVERTON 11 DERBY COUNTY 2
How I can know these facts oh
my cold and warm factography?
Do I like the old days ?
And why old days are warmest
since I know the numbers
are not either warm and cold because they
are numbers alone
My dear factography as dear as
birds of the spring
The Sally Lunn cake in the morning
Yes, in 1984 someone was watching on TV
the downhill skiing competition which was held
in Sarajevo during Winter Olympics
and was writing skiers’ names with
the names of their countries and times
Someone said “Why”
Now we have the astonishing
edition of the Everton Official
Complete Record by Steve Johnson
who was asked “Why” when
he was watching and recording
the facts from the 1984 Olympic
Winter Games :skiing
That is fabulous because
in 1990 I was reflecting
about me as an Everton fan
from the city who hosted
these Olympic Games
But couldn’t imagine that
whilst liking the
club the miles and miles away
someone would be inspired
by the Games held in my place of birth
to start editing the records
And of course to edit
one day invaluable
EVERTON COMPLETE RECORD
Everton have scored
One Two Three
Everton is with me
For years I stood on windswept terraces
And never thought I’d see
A player displaying on his back
The number Sixty Three.
Wearing boots of pink and purple
And advertising on his chest
A price tag of Thirty million
Yet a mere shadow of George Best.
If our only injury is a troublesome hamstring
The only crisis is no-one playing on the wing
If the only shock is an early straight red card
Or they equalise ‘cos your keepers caught off guard
If the worst that happens is a string of defeats
With no goals scored and no clean sheets
When the breaking news is ‘the managers been sacked’
Or the kick off is delayed ‘cos the spare kit wasn’t packed
When the fire alarm goes off because some fans are acting up
When all we have to moan about is getting Luton in the Cup
When the only claret spilled is from a nostril on the pitch
When the suspected pulled muscle is in fact a stitch
That our main concern is seeing us fixed mid-table
Choosing not to walk away but knowing we are able
When the only thing wounded is your fragile pride
The only travesty of justice was their sixth goal was offside
While all there is to moan about is that pies are up ten pee
Football at our home ground is the only place to be
There’s a new sensation that’s going around
Like changing the name of your team’s ground
It takes a while to get used to a new name
And to many of the fans it isn’t quite the same
Take Bolton Wanderers who aren’t the only one
It was the Reebok Stadium now it’s the Macron
The fans didn’t like it and still they all say?
“We’re going to the Reebok to see the Whites play”
Newcastle United now who would have thought?
By ground changing name left fans distraught.
Without St James Park our fans cannot connect
Especially with the name Sports Soccer Direct
But we’ll have to get used to changes like this
whilst the fans continue to reminisce
The sponsorship money keeps some clubs afloat
Because sentiment’s no match for a Banknote.