Football Poets

Business as usual

It’s business as usual
It almost feels like a
Throwback
When John, Paul, Ringo
And George
Were a worldwide phenomenon
And Sergeant Peppers was
A cultural icon
Listen to the sweetest larynxes
Of the Kop
When Anfield was the place
To be, clearly and powerfully
Heard and seen
Unmistakably so
Liverpool will never walk alone
And now back
At the top of the pile
Premier League pacesetters
It was never in any doubt
Yesterday ransacking the
Cottagers of Fulham
Get out of their property
Craven Cottage, still a
Thriving industry
Holding their own
Under Marco Silva
But demolished by
The wrecking ball
Of Arne’s army
Liverpool lording it
Again at the top
Of the Premier League
The flying Dutchman
A gentle, tranquil wind
In the air
Amid the canals and windmills
Of Liverpool’s
Watertight defence and
Purring, humming attack
Meanwhile back at the
London Stadium
Your claret and blue
Squadron of battle hardened
Soldiers
Finally crack open
The bubbly
West Ham, awake
From a hat-trick of
Home discomforts
No longer the laughing stock
Of those who still believe
David Moyes should
Still be in charge
Finally the penny drops
Trouble at the Olympic Stadium
Lopetegui, knives were out
Gallows and executioners
Sharpening blades
The sack race is poised
And ready to go
Sack that Spanish toreador
But fourth defeat
On home turf
Avoided thankfully
Yesterday autumn parked itself
On the lush green turf
Of the Olympic Stadium
Shadows stretching their limbs
Across the verdant acres
Of wide expanses
Of East End pasturelands
Which is where Ipswich
Came in from their world
Of cattle and livestock
Where the crops have yet
To yield a harvest
Of form or goals
This is the Premier League
And the Tractor Boys
Have yet to hit the ground
Running, instead wading in
Treacle and stuck fast
Near the bottom of the
Top flight
Languishing in the Plankton
Yet to adjust and acclimatise
Familiarising themselves
With the script and punchline
Of the Premier League’s
Latest episodes
Yesterday Antonio after 50 seconds
Flicking home the opener
For the Irons
And then suddenly Suffolk
Hearts were boosted
Surprisingly and unexpectedly
Delap drilling home the equaliser
Now the grumbling throats
Of the harrumphing Hammers
Growled their dissent and discord
Not again surely they
Cry in unison
The natives were restless
Dumbstruck and despairing
What will become
Of those euphoric European
Heroes when Prague
Was once conquered?
Then just before half time
A light at the end of
The darkest tunnel
Mo Kudus showered with kudos
Scrambling home via Antonio
And the crossbar
Give that man a seat
Now the second half
And the music has rhythm
Claret and blue
Orchestras tuned and
Hitting melodic heights
Pacqueta spicing up
The coffee beans
Of the Brazilian blend
Neatness and artistry
Whenever the mood took him
Illustrations and pictures
In his mind
Before Soucek, Emerson,
Rodriguez from the pampas
Of Argentina
Carve open the blue fields
Of Ipswich
Sowing the seeds of more
Ripened crops
But then,
Stopped in their tracks
Firstly Jarrod, the captain
Bowen at his most
Sharp eyed and observant
Runs and runs
Before cutting back onto
That lethal, favoured feet
Third goal at a heartbeat
West Ham home and hosed
No way back for newly promoted
Ipswich
What on earth would Sir Bobby
And Sir Alf made of the
Modern incarnation?
When Portman Road almost
Saw yet another fruition
Of best laid plans
When Crawford and Phillips
Mariner, Gates, Mick Mills
Eric Gates
Were always on song
But the class of 2024 is
A labour of love
The potters wheel yet to
Produce from the
Finest clay
But yesterday
Pacqueta finishes
With fourth
The Hammers happy again
Glazed earthenware
Yesterday a masterclass
Masterpiece.
That’s the way to do it
West Ham
Up into mid table safety
Yet to reach double figures
But London Stadium
Not quite as toxic
Or inflammatory
Four goals in the East End
Now there’s a rarity
Mini celebrations
Let the panic dissolve
Like pills in water
Soothe savage breasts
Victory lives again
Take it easy
West Ham
International breaks
To calm raging storms
A hint of revolt
Now stilled and stalled
Early season traumas
May just have vanished
Like stars that wax and wane
Rest worried West Ham
From the woes and cares
Of alarms and agitation
Let the season
Begin here and now
We must hope

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