Football Poets

Hornets stung by the Hammers.

¶ 1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Within the space
Of two days
Contrasting shades
And moods
Of claret and blue
On Boxing Day
The Saints were
Spreading virtue
And goodwill
Then it all came
Unstuck
For the team
Once known as
Thames Ironworks
Tumbled to defeat
To the Southampton
Chorale of saintly
Voices, who sung
For free on post
Christmas left
Overs, triumphing
In East London skies
Of wintry chills but
Returning naturally to
Snug homes in Solent
Bars of heady brews
Of winning away
But today the Hammers
Found joyous afternoons
Across the Watford
Gap,
West Ham preached
The gospel at Vicarage
Road, but not
The Honeysuckle scented
Rectory, where Sunday
Sermons drift across
The lush lands of Hertfordshire
Today West Ham left
Behind their own
Victorious verses
Stronger than Watford
Who once boasted
The grandeur of Ross
Jenkins, Luther Blissett,
Nigel Callaghan and the
Peerless excellence
Of Graham Taylor
Defiantly long ball
But playing the game
In some thought to
Be monochrome ways
Effective though, punishing
Sleepy defences, then
Graham Taylor
Once led his England
And coached in his
Way, his mannerisms
But then in Hollland
And World Cup qualifiers
It all unravelled in grotesque
Circumstances
Channel 4
Controversially
Caught out his anger
Those sharp words
Of rebuke and lecturing
Of linesmen
But Graham was fired up
A gentleman, through
And through
Galvanised, ready to
Present his England team
Until World Cup 1994
Became an American
Nightmare, no apple
Pie dreams in LA
Or New York skyscrapers
For Taylor’s wandering
Minstrels
And yet today
Claudio Ranieri
Who once lifted
The Premier League
Trophy for Leicester
Now finds himself
In troubled corners
And dark rooms
Sinister shadows
Of relegation but
If anybody can do
It, Ranieri can
Slowly but surely
Watford will
Reveal their peacock
Feathers and climb
To safety
Today though
Soucek, certainly
No Czech mate
Benrahma, with
Velvety touches,
Noble, ageless from
The penalty spot
And finally Vlasic
At the end, the
Rousing signature
Underlining the
Win in broad capitals
Among the Vicarage
Road
Hornets
The Irons
Settled the formalities
With the fourth
Those Hammers have
Ended the year
With their heads in the
Clouds, dancing the
Foxtrot to the early dawn
Nothing won yet
But trust in David
Moyes for he
Was the one
Who turned
Everything around
When others thought
Not, revolution
Incomplete, but labour
Of love, work in progress
Claret and blue be patient
It can still happen
We think

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