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Poetry Archives

Eliminate The Hyphenate

When I came of footballing age
hyphenated names were not the rage.
Well there was one
Ian Storey-Moore.
This was a much longer name than Denis Law
Alan Bloor or Ian Ure.

But it was rhymer friendly
A terrace lyricists dream
It would trot off the tongue
as you cheered your team.
Stiles to Best
Best to Law
Out on the wing to Storey- Moore.

Then one day the off springs
of Ian Wright appeared.
Both good players who defenders feared
But the name Wright-Phillips
didn’t roll from the tongue
so they never heard
their names being sung.

Now football’s in the midst
of its latest craze
names like Oxlaide-Chamberlain
and Villa’s Jake Doyle-Hayes.
Ruben Loftus-Cheek and Brooklyn Lyons-Foster
If you pay for every letter on the shirt
I’d imagine it will cost ya.

Callum Hudson-Odoi and Nathaniel Mendez-Laing
Trent Alexander- Arnold how can these names be sang?
And to prove that it’s not just a shotgun that has a double barrel
we’ve Northern Ireland’s goalkeeper, Bailey Peacock-Farrell

The likes of Kyle Walker-Peters have made life so very hard
For the poor old football lyricist and the terrace bard.
Try putting a tune to Hal Robson-Kanu or Cameron Humphreys-Grant
I’ll bet you all your Esso coins that you bloody can’t.

So when players get bored of this fad
and sling their hyphen from their pram
They’ll have to think of another way to honor dad and mam

So no disrespect to James Ward-Prowse
He’ll understand I’m sure
But football life was so much simpler
with just Ian Storey- Moore.

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Street football with the landless

Meem had to flee great horror in her life
For peace at Sadarghat ferry port
In Bangladesh we played football
After her family had sold her short

Pass and move with the orphan Khayrun
We read, we wrote, we played football
She inspired the Manta boat school
Whilst fishing on the Bay of Bengal

We kicked balls with street children
Some respite from horrific strife
It’s not all about coaching football
We’ve formed bonds and friendships for life

28 10 19

number7
© emdad rahman

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Red Devils rock the draw

Man Utd 1-1 Liverpool

Soon as this game got up to speed
Rashford gives United the lead
77,000 scream from wide and far
Mane denied by VAR

Ruled out for a handball
In the past there’d be a brawl
But before you could say Glazer
It’s Lallana’s late equaliser

20 10 19

number7
© emdad rahman

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The Park

Goodison Park means at least good park
All the stadiums under the heaven are The heaven’s Parks
And should Everton leave Goodison will it stay as
most loved Park ?
The Good Goodison Park

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O Me of Little Faith.

After giving Pulisic,
Untold, untold negative shtick
He schleps up to the grave-yard of Turf Moor,
Where not only does he score?
But…goes on to bag himself…a perfect hat-trick*.

Leaving me and any other stupid eejit
Above in the Gods of Heaven where I sit,
Had the gall to question our revered Christian,
(The answers Yes, I’m indeed a fickle man)
Looking like an absolute di…p-stick.

I guess what I’m trying to say?
To ye fellow Blues of little faith
Don’t be making false assumptions
Let’s give a geezer some encouragement
Out there going at it for us, midst the fray.

Truth is, he’s hardly had a kick this season
So there really ain’t a decent reason
For simply tossing him to The Lions (No!)
The Wolves, or even worse…them Irons( Whoa!)
When despite his fee, he appears to be at least half decent…

Sez I…eating humble apple pie, like Pulisic, from the good old U.S.A.

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Oops!

Pair o Mickey Mousers en route to a cup tie in Genk
Should have Googled the place fore they went?
Mind you it’s easy for me, smugly extracting the pee,
Pointing out GENT ain’t where two Scouse gent’s should be*
After three hundred and eighty quid has already been spent…
Sat in a bar, watching the game on T.V,
Quaffing moules, mayonnaise n frites
Clutching a couple o U.S match tickets,
Ninety plus miles from the actual event!

*Gent is Flemish for Ghent…pal of mine from Belgie…tells me.

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130 Yesterdays (Forest Green Rovers 1889-2019)

it’s so hard to imagine now
way way back in time
the birth of little Forest Green
in eighteen eighty nine
the little hilltop village team
whose changing hut was found
behind the Jovial Forester
a good walk from the ground

a pitch all lined with turnips then
when crowds would flock to see
a local team of local men
so long before TV
as through the lower leagues they rose
a hundred years rolled by
Hellenic League and Southern League
the club refused to die

it’s sometimes strange to fathom
what drew us here to see
the Rovers for the first time
like some epiphany
but under corrugated iron
we stood among the fans
the black and white the breeze blocks
the tiny little stand
the terraces around the pitch
the ancient iron gate
the days under the radar
when hopes were not that great

I tore myself from big-screen pubs
I dropped by when I could
but die-hard fans stuck by them
through all the bad and good
the FA Vase at Wembley win
it feels like yesterday
the moment when we made it as
the Conf’rence came our way

and then the years of struggles
the fans and their belief
the Big Boys who we’d watch depart
the hardest league to leave
The Oxfords and the Newports
the Grimsbys with their songs
those play-off magic nights so close
to where this team belongs

while others gazed in wonder
at standards being made
the dream at last was realized
the day we made the grade
And now the revolution
the eco sample set
the journey here to where we are
that old fans won’t forget

but through it all a new belief
among us all was born
as we command respect and awe
up here at the New Lawn
and sometimes as I stand here
and chat with loyal fans
the thoughts go back to yesterday
to how it all began
the little hilltop village team
whose changing hut was found
behind the Jovial Forester
a good walk from the ground

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Why no poem?

Why no poem?
Mojo magic’d away?
Zeitgeist scooted off?
Muse unamused?
Support spaffed up against a wall?
Or is it just
the embarrasment
of a ten year record
of non-defeat
too replete
for anapestic litany
as we venture
far beyond Brittany?

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Fiery Foxes outfought

Liverpool 2-1 Leicester

It was late, so very late
Maddison, then Milner’s penalty
Liverpool nick it at the death
Injury time win over Leicester City

Brendan returned to Anfield
His Foxes burrowed a hole
Mane sets a new Reds benchmark
With a 50th top flight goal

Albrighton brings down Mane
VAR said it wasn’t fair
Klopp celebrates wildly
Rodgers turns away in despair

05 10 19

number7
© emdad rahman

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Blades blunted at Bramall

Sheffield Utd 0-1 Liverpool

Bramall Lane is never easy
Where the crowd have real heart
Some said it was a “lucky” goal
To continue the perfect start

It was Henderson of the Blades
Wijaldum’s game shot far from fine
Dean spills with a moment to forget
And agonisingly over the line

It wasn’t vintage Liverpool
This side is more than capable
For now we’ll have to live
With a five point lead in the table

28 09 19

number7
© emdad rahman

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