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Poetry Archives

Euro 2024: FINAL: It’s not, you know

So near and yet so far….
and yet here we are
beaten finalists
beaten by a better team
who tramped all over
our burgeoning dream

Worthy winners Spain
brought pain
to our shores…
we rowed our oars
to Southgate’s drumbeat….

But should that tattoo
have been to a more upbeat tempo?

And yet, maybe Gareth’s not to blame?
Like, who was it put into SatNav
Albion’s postcode?
Entering “Madrid” instead of “Moss Side”…..
Easily done?
Predictive text?
Or just eternally hexed?

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Not Quite Full -My Euro 24 Wall Chart (Part 2)

the flags have all appeared again
on buildings and on cars
except the Farmer’s Market
or posh and trendy bars
my wall chart hangs resplendent
a multi-caloured sheet
a hand-filled record of it all
of vict’ry and defeat
it’s scribbled on and nearly full
the day has come once more
the only thing that’s missing
is just the Final score

I must be really honest
I must be very clear
throughout it all I never thought
that England would be here
there’ve been so many ups and downs
the endless moans and groans
the nearly team we’ve been so long
is all we’ve ever known

I long to run out with my mates
and play out on the street
like when i was a little kid
to make the day complete
but all those days are gone now
and just a memory
they say it’s far too dangerous
and not allowed you see

but here upon my Wall Chart
the game is hours away
there’s just two spaces on it
upon this final day
the flags in town are flying
the country waits as one
and soon so soon this tournament
will all be lost or won

who knows which way the night will go
the fave’rites Spain await
but pride belief and longing
have never felt so great
and we will watch it all unfold
we’ll stretch to kick each ball
until my Euro Wall Chart’s full
right here upon my wall

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England- your country needs you

Oh, England, England
How your country needs you
To just win, nothing else
Nothing more
Picturesque, rural
Spread out like a picnic
Hamper over the fields
And timeless meadows
Across the matchless
Lake District
The Pennines,
The peak of the
Peak District
Gushing forth
An abundance
Of water, cowslips,
And richly uplifting
Yellow cornfields
Overlapping folds
Of private patchwork
Quilts of countryside
Shivering in the breeze
Of our hopes and dreams
Where the village pubs
Tonight will reveal
Gareth Southgate’s England
We are now at journey’s end
The final destination
Spain in Euro 2024 Final
A pint of your best
Barman and barmaid
A thousand glasses of
Amber celebration
For family and friends
If, after 58 years
It wends its weary home
We stand on the verge
Of history’s judgement day
It’s been far too long
Yesterday they gave us
The 1966 World Cup Final
In its colourised splendour
We salute you Channel 4
If only today’s generation
Could use yesterday as a perfect
Inspiration, a reminder
Of what can be done
It’s feasible, possible
Quite definitely
We can replicate that
Golden day yet again
And of course Labour
Were in charge on the
Day of Sir Alf Ramsey’s
Release from the chains
Of solemnity and seriousness
It has to be tonight
Because if not
Then it’ll be exactly
60 years next time around
In the USA, Canada and Mexico
Another World Cup again
Seize the day
Carpe diem England, today
No more delaying tactics
Pausing on the ball
And just waiting for
Something to happen
We have faith and trust
Of course we fear
The Holland syndrome
Of two successive defeats
In tournament Finals
For 1974 and 78
West Germany and Argentina
Dutch pass masters
Blasted out of the water
For 2021 read tonight
Let’s do it
One more time tonight
Blighty, believe in
The law of averages
It has to be England’s turn
Oh surely
Richly merited victory
Against all the odds
Even though
It was a horrific watch
Come on England

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Euro 2024: FINAL: pre-match nerves!

We stand at the water’s edge….
shall we succumb
to Salacia’s salty stare
and drown in our sorrow?
Or will tomorrow’s
final
be the time to draw upon
our modern armada – a flotilla of faithful fans
egging us beyond the Spanish Inquisition….
can we change history
and be in a position
as the “most fortunate fleet”
that tasted danger
and drew back from defeat….
can we be the crew
to create a hullaballoo – and get the scores
that steers the trophy 
to Albion’s shores?!?!?!

~ ~ # ~ ~

    Be like!

My message to the lads….
Be like our Olympians
winners one and all
grafters, fighters
who held us in our thrall

be record breakers, like Mark Cavendish
full of verve and grit
and with a lethal finish – all about timing
be like the War Poets
facing adversity and atrocity
and yet came out rhyming

be like the Queen (God rest her soul)
for whom unity and service
was her regal goal

be like me – like us!
forever full of dreams
supporting our teams – through thick and thin
never ceasing, nor unwavering….
but then be unlike us
and make it to the top of Everest…
so that we might all share
this victory
and so that our mouths, will never rest!   😉

and finally
be like Sir Winston Churchill
inspired and inspiring… especially Gareth….
get us flying down the wings
and with the clever use of subs
bring us victory to savour, forever
@ our clubs and pubs!!!!

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Friday in the Mediterranean

So here we are back
In Berlin
On Sunday evening
Not a sign of a divisive wall
That stopped dialogue
For so many years
Political childishness
Between West and East Germany
Meanwhile in the bodegas
Of Benidorm and Majorca
Wines of timeless vintage
Will be poured freely
Into glasses called Rioja
Men of maturity
Who have seen it all
Will play Baccarat
Deeply thoughtful chess
But no longer for pesetas
Rattling dice
Just for fun
Now Poker faces for Euros
Cashew nuts for company
Cracking most convivially
Over a lager called discretion
In case Spain are beaten
Carefully now
It’s only a game
No time to drown sorrows
Then along the Costas
Brava, Blanca and the
Oranges of Seville
Kids of all ages
Nut brown from the intense heat
Chase footballs
Because that’s what they do
The sinking red sunset
Of a Spanish evening
Where cats curl up next to
Paella scented trattorias
Football on Sunday
For Spain, though
Time to bury the
Horrors of Franco and his
Murderous henchmen
Spain, now seasoned serial
Winners of Euros and World Cups
But look at who’s on the
Other side of the fence?
It’s Gareth Southgate’s
England of valour and
Stout hearted bravery
Once again, it’s the
Iberian peninsula against
English beefy belligerence
But watch out for the Spanish Armada
Three years ago England
Fell by the wayside against
The Italian stallions in
The Final frontier at Wembley
And now Spain again
Yet more scores to settle
After penalty heartbreak
In Euro 1996
Spain, vengeful and still
Vivacious as the flamenco
Dancer who throws roses
To all and sundry
Espana, European Champions?
Toreadors flourishing capes
Like badges of honour
Thousands of bullish bullfighters
Insisting that Spain
Will beat England
Since those tourists from
Taunton, Twickenham and Tadcaster
Will regret their perennial
Summer holidays
Keep your Daddy Sauce, Robertsons jam
And tomato sauce from Sainsburys
England will never win
On Sunday, they may think
But of course
Spain have won far more
Than England last
Won anything of note
Weren’t the Troggs and
Manfred Mann presiding on
The top of pop music charts?
But this is a major tournament Final
For England
And 58 years is just a humiliating
Hollow hiatus, nothing but
Sunday games at Hackney Marshes
With no trophies to
Celebrate in playground playtimes
Just tumbleweed
Only the fading photos
Of Sir Geoff in 1966
Puffing out cheeks and
Then the blasted fourth goal
That left psychedelic memories
To cheer on countless Saturday
Afternoons
It’s Spain against England
On Sunday and Europe will
Decide its football monarchy
The neutrals tell us
That there will be
No more Spanish inquisitions
Just the red of Spain
Ruling the roost for
For another term of office
And yet Englishmen and women
Still have a hunch
That this is their year
For their Euro trophy
It’s been far too long now
Just one more time dear England
60 years, it’ll be just a lifetime
Since we were children of nature
And some of us have forgotten
What it’s like for England to win
Something era defining and
Deeply memorable to tell our
Grandchildren who may also
Have fallen into the Land of Nod

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It’s Coming Home. Isn’t It ? Part 2

England in final
it’s coming home isn’t it
Southgate jubilant ?
Against Netherlands
they did play a lot better
deserved victory.
They have rode their luck
and huffed and puffed in matches
but never gave up.
Spain are quality
the best team in tournament
it won’t be easy.
But it’s coming home
it is written in the stars
England champions !

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Two similar events

I recall two similar events involving
16 years old Wayne Rooney in an Everton shirt

16 years old Lamine Yamal in the Spanish shirt

You know
The same
Everton v Arsenal 16 years old Rooney
Spain v France 16 years old Yamal
The same age and almost same goals

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If This Is Our Time

nights like this are special
times like these are rare
savour ev’ry moment
when you know you’re there
you can call it fortune
who cares what they say
when that moment happens
failure falls away

and if this is really it
if this is our time
we’ll remember where we were
til the day we die
we’ll remember words we cried
in our silly way
just like when the Beatles sang
Things We Said Today

high upon this hillside
minutes seem to fly
suddenly it hits you
like in years gone by
all those days we came so close
all those times before
disappear and fade away
when at last you score

looking on in disbelief
through the tears and smiles
memories come flooding back
when you were a child
time to stop and pinch yourself
as you watch the game
what is it that moves us
in this way the same?
and if this is really it
if this is our time
we’ll remember where we were
til the day we die
we’ll remember words we cried
in our silly way
just like when the Beatles sang
Things We Said Today

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Sometimes it really is a beautiful game

“Perhaps we are all wrong,
and Southgate
is a substitution genius.”

The Facebook banter
after the England game
moves into the realm
of long-ago memory
as we talk of previous
footballing magic moments.

For three veteran Chelsea fans who
used to gather in front of the Shed
at the old Stamford Bridge,
it takes us back to the Cup final
replay of nineteen-seventy.

And one moment in particular –
not lifting the Cup, but Osgood’s
bullet header equaliser
at the Stretford End
with not much time remaining.

As Clive says: “Magic moments,
it’s what we suffer the rest for,
in the hope of … ”

And when he says magic moments,
Old Trafford is the first
that comes to mind.

Clive recalls “being lifted off my feet
by the crowd and flying down
the terracing, then seeing you John,
in that special Chelsea hat, passing me”.

And yes, there was
a Labour government
then too, if only for
another couple of months.

Johns says dreamily: “No matter
where you are or what you are doing,
your mind can always go back to it …”

I say that whatever happens
in the final, I’m proud of England,
for this one game alone …

Boys, boys, and girls,
the moments we’ve had.

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It was worth it in the end

Well, I never
Oh yes, finally again
Against the odds
The impossible dream
Glorious Blighty
Standing on the shoulders
Of 1966 when
Sir Geoff Hurst
Spun a hat-trick
Of World Cup jubilation
But now it’s happening again
Once again England
Reach the land of fairy tales
Fantasies fulfilled
Oh England, England
It almost seems as
If, at any moment,
Somebody will jolt us
From our sleep
And it was just some
Ridiculous illusion
Gareth in Wonderland
Forget the dull functionality
Of the preliminaries
The grey ordinariness
Of those plodding, walking,
Hesitating, grinding to
A painful standstill, moments
Of wretched, plain awful
Football with no bite
Little or no idea or purpose
Going around in ever increasing circles
And hitting Swiss, Slovakian and Slovenian
Walls of stubborn intransigence
Dwelling on the ball for
Several seasons of the year
Where were England going
Until somebody jabbed us
In the ribs?
And startled us into proactive
Action packed vibrancy
Against those orange cloggers
From the Netherlands
No more recycling in Amsterdam
Take your leisure
By the all embracing canals
With hashish cake for breakfast
But we love the Dutch
Because you gave us the joyous
Windmills of Mick Channon
In his Southampton and City pomp
But tonight Villa’s finest
Ollie Watkins
Pulled it out of the
Magician’s hat
In that Roy of the Rovers
90th minute winner
Of gold,
Burnished in history
66 million blood pressures
Soaring into a far distant
Stratosphere
Hearts palpitating so fast
That it took another
Cliff hanging climax
First the flying Dutchman
Took aeronautical engineering
To another dimension
With opening goal
Before minutes later
Harry Kane became
That exemplary Citizen Kane
Oh, if only Orson Wells
Could have been here
On this night of nights
Harry’s studs caught,
A blatant trip
Penalty tucked away
In the postage stamp
Of the net
Level pegging
Parity for ages
Honours even
For seemingly an eternity
English and Dutch
Allies to so many
In the bloodiest of wars
But now joined at the hip
End to end
In basketball mode
Nothing between them
Thrilling, gripping
Intoxication in every
Village, city and town pub
Across Middle England
Sleepy for so many years
But now leaping out of bed
Flinging open the blinds
Sunshine floods through
Anglo Saxon tributaries
Victory rubber stamped
Y Viva Espana on Sunday
For Gareth’s sweat soaked icons
Spain in the Euro 2024
Final.
England, the luckiest team
Of them all
But who cares?
We’ve done it
Berlin on Sunday
Fortune favours the brave
It’s been 58 years in
The waiting
But who’s to say that fate
Indeed maybe wearing
A white shirt?
They said we were crazy
And delusional to think
That England couldn’t
But reigning against Spain
It has a ring about it
Sangrias all around

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Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/page/7/