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Anyone Who Had A Heart (Amazing Panorama Kop footage 1964)

Mike Bartram

Tuesday, April 1st, 2025

​

The Kop cover The Beatles and Cilla Black.
Give me a time machine, I wanna go back!
The accent is one, the accent is scouse.
Not a tourist to be seen in the house!

Working class scousers, together as one.
The game was stolen from us, forever gone.
As now we’re not welcome, told were to go.
Half and half scarves?…I don’t think so!

Red and white Kop passion, a sense of pride.
An amazing atmosphere, long since died.
Shankly was our King, and in us he saw him.
We were made for each other…born to win!

I was a loyal Kopite, part of its heyday.
Then filthy money came and took it all away.
Tourists bring in the cash by the shed load.
Poorer fans snubbed with a local postcode.

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The ups and downs of a score draw

Beth Rogers

Monday, March 31st, 2025

Howl a tribal scream
Feel like a mighty mountain
The net bulged for us!

Groan of anguished soul
Seared heart plunges to cold feet
The net bulged for them…

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Newcastle, Newcastle

joe morris

Friday, March 21st, 2025

So the Geordie boys have done it
Finally, at long last
Climbing aboard the winners
Victorious podium
Acclaimed Carabao Cup winners
We feared it would never happen
Ever again
Rejected, snubbed and denounced
Mocked and locked out
After 70 years of striving
And scuffling, agonising
Over and over again
Not a single trophy to
Claim as their own
But now it’s happened
Just desserts
Justice is seen to be done
Revenge for 1974
When Liverpool owned the show
And delivered that
Devastating blow
When Kevin Keegan and John Toshack
In a grand striking collaboration
Laid waste to Joe Harvey’s Newcastle
Were demolished by a red tidal wave
51 years later and the sea shore is kinder
It’s away the lads
And the world becomes black and white
Not so monochrome now
But a Cup in their hands
Not the jug eared one
Of FA Cup denomination
But Hardaker’s old League Cup
Still, in the perception of some
Charming fruit bowl
Adorned with football ribbons
And then Dan Burn leaps like
The proverbial salmon
And heads home
The winner
Oh yes that’ll do
Nothing remotely fishy
Or suspicious about that one
Ignore VAR perfectly legit
A golden amber sunset
Flickers gloriously into view
Shimmering seductively on
The Wembley horizon
Tyneside will celebrate for
The next 70 years
Be sure, it will
The neutral salutes you
Newcastle, after all
Those buried hands and
Tantalising teeth gnashing
Melancholy by the Fog of the Tyne
Gazza’s tears and tomfoolery
Brown ale now the sweetest Chianti
Hilarity and smiles wreathing
The St James Park terraces
Gleaming garlands of glad tidings
Ant and Dec besides themselves
Hugging each other
And everything in sight
Celebrations with strangers
Wembley becomes a Geordie haven
North London morphs into North East
And then Alan Shearer
Who was one of their own
Lights up like a flash bulb
No more sepia tinted memories
Of Wor Jackie Milburn,
Bobby Mitchell and the Robledo brothers
Supermac Malcolm Macdonald
Sulking and skulking away
In 1974 after threatening to
Take Liverpool to the cleaners
Oh no, – not now
Newcastle reincarnated, reborn
Back on the map
Recovery and recuperation complete
No more wandering in the wilderness
It’s Newcastle, Newcastle
Newcastle Newcastle
They’ve done it, you know
Champagne by the crate
It’s a trophy
And how we know it.

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Where’s Our Famous Atmosphere?

Mike Bartram

Thursday, March 20th, 2025

The old Kop I loved as a young fan.
26 thousand Reds in a sardine can!
I started out in the lofty Boys Pen.
Along with lots of middle aged men!

But in 71’ a full time Kopite I became.
Liverpool v Forest, was my first game.
To the sound of The Spion Kop roars.
My hero Keegan, scored early doors!

St Etienne in 77’ the highlight for me.
To get in, I queued up from half past 3!
Under the Anfield lights, what a night.
The Kop in full glory, an amazing sight!

Fairclough left their defence in its wake.
A difficult chance, with ease he did take!
It was bedlam when that 3rd goal went in.
As that was the goal that sealed our win!

As our ‘12th man’ The Kop was known.
Our players never felt they were alone.
When we cranked up the pressure and heat.
Teams would often crumble to defeat!

So…fast forward to nearly 50 years on.
Where’s our famous atmosphere gone?
Local fans priced out, is mostly to blame.
Mates standing together at every game.

Footy has reverted to a middle class affair.
It’s too costly now, but owners don’t care.
I miss those days, neath the old kop roof.
Am I just living in the past, is that the truth?

Can we turn back the clock, don’t think so?
The game lost many diehard fans, years ago.
A tourist attraction, has become The Kop.
It’s just an extension to our souvenir shop.

The Kop brings in fans from far and wide.
The Anfield tills ring, but it’s hushed inside.
Likewise, famous terraces all over the land.
It’s a problem club owners, don’t understand.

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Unthinkable

Gacina Bozidar

Thursday, March 13th, 2025

“No puede ser”
Julian Alvarez from the
spot…
The Waste Wanda Land
the Penalty taken and the goal denied
Although many neutral
football lovers can
enjoy Madrid Invincibility
The Waste Wanda Land

Sometimes Odious Real Madrid’s next round
qualifications

What to say about Julian Alvarez
penalty
The Waste Wanda Land

The only one word describes the
decision of no goal:Unthinkable
Unthinkable
Unthinkable
Unthinkable
Unthinkable
Unrhinkable
Unthnkable
Unthinkable

AT Least Repeat and Retake the penalty

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The home turn

joe morris

Friday, March 7th, 2025

With the first crocuses and snowdrops
Poised for Spring renaissance
The Premier League hits the final fences
Of the imminent football
Grand National
Beechers Brook and the Chair
Formidable obstacles
But when did that ever worry
Liverpool, lords of the manor?
At the top
Over the hills and far away
Seemingly beyond reach
Arne’s army
Stretching away
With 13 point lead
None will catch them surely
Seasoned thoroughbreds
Handsome steeds
Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley
Must be singing from some
Far off football heaven
Where fans never walk alone
The Kop prepares for
May street carnivals
Yet another Premier League title
Another League Championship
It was never in any doubt
And yet spring brings with it
Annual bouts of hay fever
Sneeze and Arsenal may still
Fancy their chances
The runners and riders
Are ready to rumble
Amid the deafening acoustics
Of football’s tribal terrace residents
City of course are out for the count
Flattened on the canvas
They threw in the towel long ago
But Liverpool are in the box seat
Driving beautifully, focused
Even at the beginning of March
They can see the wood from the trees
The finishing line is closer
Than ever before
Anfield with assurance
You would think it’s all over
How many times have they been
Champions of England?
Check the bean counters
The abacus will always
Be on hand
But the seasons they
Are a changing
And once the clocks go forward
The picture may have changed
Realistically not though
Liverpool
Proud owners
Of their country estate
World class ambassadors
For the Beautiful Game
Winners of the Premier League
It certainly looks
Signed, sealed and delivered
Even the legendary
Stevie Wonder would agree
If you asked him now

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Super Frankie Lampard

kevin halls

Monday, February 24th, 2025

Frank Lampard new coach
replaced Robins a legend
fans undecided.
But play offs now on
Frank’s name sung loud at matches
he’s turned things around.
Chelsea superstar
yet had so many critics
but doing fine job.
In a little time
fitted in comfortably
found his perfect place ?
Can he get us up
to the top flight of football?
it’s been a long time !

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Gone But Not Forgotten

Richard Williams

Monday, February 24th, 2025

There’s a new build housing estate
in all our cities and towns.
On sites of factories and warehouses
for stuff we don’t make any more.
Places of toil, unloved and forgotten
working all hours just to pay some bills.

But there’s others that maybe look the same,
where street signs hint of something else.
No bucolic names of rural plants,
or trees where there’s none for miles around,
but footballers whose time has passed,
a nod to what was here before.

Maybe a blue plaque on a wall outside,
or a silver disc for a centre spot,
by a playground where today’s kids act out
their own superhero or sporting dreams,
lifted from TV, streaming, or a latest film,
voices bouncing off unweathered walls.

But in gardens both near and miles away,
You’ll find plastic seats ripped out from stands,
from a pitch invasion at the final game,
turf grass in pots on windowsills,
and boxes of programmes from a now lost ground,
that only lives on in the memory of fans,

and former players who occasionally
shuffle these roads to reminisce,
to work out where the goals once stood,
take an imaginary kick at an imaginary ball,
watch the bulging net, the crowd go wild,
before turning slowly to walk away.

Yet sometimes here on unsettled days,
when rain beats down and the wind lets rip,
whipping round walls and pulling at roofs,
a sound will rise as the air pressure falls,
a crescendo now unmistakably so,
of thousands of voices cheering a goal.

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Hammers against Gunners- 1980 again

joe morris

Saturday, February 22nd, 2025

Today it’s Hammers against the Gunners
If only we could turn back the
Clock to 1980 when spritely spring
Sunshine bathed our dreams
And varnished our hopes
FA Cup Final day
45 years ago
Was it really that far back?
Arsenal the top flight governors
Swaggering amid the high and mighty
West Ham confined to the old
Second Division
No contest surely
Men against boys
Odds stacked mountain high
Against the East End chancers
But then a head called Brooking
Stooped to his knees
And a sea of claret and blue
Washed over the headlands
Of Newham and Forest Gate
Estuaries of ecstasy
Flooding unstoppably
Through our pumping,
Palpitating hearts
Glorious glory
On Cup Final day
Pike, Devonshire, Brooking,
Pearson, Cross, Bonds
Martin,
A day of football heaven
And perfection,
But now 45 years later
We’re back at the Emirates
Once again the bets are off
Hammers stuck in cul-de-sac
Struggling for air
Underdogs, underclass again
Marooned in mayhem and boggy
Marshlands of trouble and toil
The wrong end of the
Premier League
Potter at the wheel
But sinking fast in the messy
Morass of relegation waters
Maybe enough to climb out of
The dreaded quicksand
Of course this is familiarity
Breeding contempt
At the London Stadium
But seven defeats at home
The natives are restless
Cliches and excuses abound
Please end this wretched season
Now rather than later
Europe now a distant recollection
A far off continent
Where Italian jobs were completed
And mighty Fiorentina
Were toppled by the Irons
In UEFA Conference Final
Oh what a night
Certainly not in late
December 63
Memories were gold dust
And West Ham did once
Beat Arsenal
When knights were bold
And chivalry was alive
But the Gooners are battling
For the Premier League
While the Hammers are driving
Nails into brick walls
It’s a lost cause today
But who knows?
Victorious at Christmas
Last season
In fascinating game of chess
And yet today
It has to be curtains
For our claret and blue warriors
Draw a veil over this one
Why bother travelling from East
To North London?
Wild goose chase
Fruitless journey
No hope and Bob Hope
Three more points
For the showboating Gunners
Egg on face for
Ashamed and shameful Hammers
But they’ll be back
One day hopefully
Stronger than ever
That’s a cert
Undoubtedly

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Dream Team From Back In The Day

John J O’Connor

Friday, February 21st, 2025

I don’t want my players pressing
Or trying to do the block
To hell with your false number nines
And players falling with each knock.
You can keep your inside wing backs
Your sixty minute subs
Players getting signed by big teams
Then getting loaned to other clubs.

My coach I’ll call The Manager
Mister – boss – or gaffer
I’d like their name to be Bob or Bill
Not Jurgen, Pep or Rafa.
They can set their stall and park the bus
Join the players in having laughs
But please may I not catch them
Showing subs those stupid graphs.

Now my netminder must catch the ball
Saving goals is his contribution
Forget about the footwork stuff
And your passing distribution.
He’ll wear a hat to shield the sun
Stop his head becoming toast
And make sure at every corner kick
To have two men on the post.

My full backs must be cumbersome
And slightly overweight
Two footed tackles are acceptable
If they’re within a minute late.

My center half will be lean and lanky
Uncompromising, dour and craggy
Gritty, composed, conservative
His dad probably voted Maggie.

My midfielders will be Generals
Dynamic, Canny, schemers
Fiery, chopping ball winners
And skilled creative dreamers.

My wingers will be wiry
Temperamental, Scottish, wee
Whose socks will be around their ankles
As they glide past their man with glee.

My center forward will be Saxon/Welsh
Bustling, powerful and prolific
He’ll like to use his elbows
And his broken nose will look horrific
He likes his pint and gambles
Has a sneaky half time fag
But when he connects his laces with the ball
It finds the onion bag.

Preferably the venue for these matches
Will be a mud bath of a ground
Where slide tackles fly
“ OI REF! THE FANS CRY”
And admission is just half a crown.

Talking of refs; he must be bald
And even semi blind
Because the fans need things to shout at him
To try and change his mind.
The terrace fans will chant the name
Of their favourite superstar
And one thing we definitely won’t have
Is that bloody V.A.R.

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/page/2/