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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.

A Bridge Too Far.

Just another Spring time day,
Busy people on their way.
Children take in the view,
And tourists of a different hue,
All mingle as they pass by.
Then there is heard a womans cry,
A fanatic in his car,
Scatters people near and far.
A mother now lays dying
Leaving two girls,soon be crying.
An old man of seventy five,
Sadly no longer alive.
Kurk Cochrans once happy day,
Now cold and still where he lay.
PC.Palmer lays bleeding,
Sadly life is receding
Was there to withhold the law,
He was brave and stood there tall.
Now candle lit vigils are kept
Young and old together wept.
For in strife we all stand,
Together walk hand in hand.

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Mr Liverpool – Ronnie Moran (1934-2017)

From the Reds golden age
Came a local lad called Ronnie
Hailed from nearby Crosby
Fondly nicknamed “Bugsy”

As an apprentice electrician
Ronnie signed for Don Welsh in 52
Played in Joe Fagan’s reserves
Liverpool through and through

Became a coach in sixty six
A new chapter with Shankly
Twice in the dugout as manager
Proudly led Liverpool out at Wembley

Forty four cups in the cupboard
There’s so many special dates
A fabled place in the Boot room
And recognition as one of the greats

Mr Liverpool, tea lady or physio
Bugsy served all the roles
Captain, coach, caretaker manager
Over 300 games, 16 goals

Home at Anfield for almost fifty years
Red to the core
He was the ultimate utility man
They’re not made like that anymore

number7
© Emdad Rahman

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RIP ‘Bugsy’ Moran

A sad day in our history now we mark.
The Liverpool clouds grey and dark.
In days of tantrums and obscene wage.
No too many will adorn histories page.

But Ronnie Moran was a different breed.
He played for the love, not the greed.
A red through and through, Crosby born.
A ‘boot room’ legend, the armband worn.

A one man club, Ronnie filled every role.
No inflated ego, no limelight he stole.
Never sought the headlines or the fame.
The club always came first not his name.

‘Bugsy’s LFC legacy will be ever secured.
His name from Kop will always be roared.
Sincere and moving tributes pour in today.
For Ronnie Moran…a legend in every way.

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Nailsworth Awakes.(HAIKU)

New dawn at New Lawn.

Forest Green reach for summit

Now top of the hill.

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Wengers Warriors Woeful.(Haiku)

Brom bomb out Gunners.

Three goal salvo shoot them down.

Arsene under fire.

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Monaco Maul Manchester (Haiku)

City not so slick.

No Monte Carlo Rally.

Peps perfect plan panned.

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Armistice Day (2016)

Armistice Day (2016)

The football’s on:
the derby of derbies.
a family fractioned into
halves and quarters;
but when the whistle blows,
I’m thinking of Bruce’s stone
and the battle of Glen Trool,
the remnants of the sessile
oak wood with its skeletal trees
soaking up grief from
corpses below.

The football’s on:
the derby of derbies.
But when the whistle blows,
I’m thinking of the great war,
a world fractioned into
halves and quarters;
The no-man’s land match
that said we are everyman –
just the same

The football’s on:
the derby of derbies.
But when the whistle blows
I’m thinking of all the splintering
isms, its, moans and ers
brexit, regrexit, remoaners,
racism, elitism, nationalism;
the lion rampant
of Scotland
and the three lions
of England

The football’s on:
the derby of derbies.
The drum beats for one
and the pipes skirl for another
while the quarters fidget,
unsure which whole to join.
And all the while
the ancient oak wood endures
the bitter bile of division.

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Bloody Football

My club is doing my head in
going from bad to worse,
they are dropping like a stone
make you swear and curse.
My club is doing my head in
all they ever do is lose,
they’re bad for your health
make you turn to booze.
My club is doing my head in
year upon bloody year,
why do I keep on going
when there’s never any cheer ?
My club is doing my head in
as further down they fall,
they never win anything
useless at football.
My club is doing my head in
feel like calling it a day,
take up a new hobby
go fishing on a Saturday.
My club is doing my head in
when will this agony stop ?
always fighting relegation
instead of being at the top.
My club is doing my head in
fifty plus years a fan,
watching my beloved team
from a boy to a man.
My club is doing my head in
but what will be will be,
yet I’ll keep on going
even though I follow Coventry !

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Hot Spurs.

Millwall caned by Spurs.

They are given six of the best.

The Job is well done.

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Imp-ossible Task (Haiku)

Gunners shoot five goals.

Brave imps put on a great show.

They do non league proud.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/