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The football poet

Graham Smyth

Monday, February 24th, 2003

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Saturday, Burnley, half past two
Approaching kick-off time
Pubs disgorge towards the Turf
Claret flows like wine.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 A poet takes up residence
In the family stand.
Blank score matched by his blank verse
Blank faces all around.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Writer warming to his theme
iambically proceeds.
Penalty box pentameters
Tell of heroic deeds.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Life is football, football’s life
Metaphors bounce around.
Similarly the similes
Like fans crammed in the ground.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 The half-time whistle stems the flow
And so, with perfect timin’
Gets stuck inter meat and tater
There goes rhymin’ pieman.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Awaiting muse he muses as
Poetic punters sing as one:
“He shot, he missed, he must be . . .
A little off the mark there Ron.”

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 The pace is really hotting up –
What form is best to take?
Who cares? – the linesman gives offside –
Was it haiku’s like.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 This poet’s task’s an easy one
He hardly earns his wage.
The poetry’s in motion –
Transcribed onto the page.

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 But wait! The verse may be curtailed
Abandoned, null and void.
Stewards stride toward the bard
They don’t half look annoyed.

10 Leave a comment on verse 10 0 “No stanza’s in the seating sir
We’re taking you away
It’s really no good bleating sir
You’ve seen your lot today…

11 Leave a comment on verse 11 0 ….now come on, don’t make a fuss sir, or I’ll have you round the back and give
you a good kicking, and there won’t be any rhyme or reason to it, – call it
poetic justice if you like…..”

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-football-poet-2/