Monday, September 6th, 2004
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The poor dyslexic manager
Had problems all the time,
Though spelling incorrectly
Isn’t really such a crime.
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But they had to call the fire brigade,
And say a fervent prayer
When, on a scouting trip abroad,
He singed a foreign player.
© Peter Goulding 6th September 2004
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Welcome to Football Poets -- a club for all football poets, lovers of football and lovers of (alternative) poetry. Discover poets in every league from respected internationals at the top of their game to young hopefuls in the school playground.
Publish your football poems here and then discuss them with your team mates and fans. We're archived by The British Library, so your masterpieces are in the safe hands of a world-class keeper. What a result!
3rd July 2022 at 9:36 pm
Thank you Sharon, same to you.
See in context
1st July 2022 at 8:53 pm
Good to see you are still writing your wonderful football poetry John. All the best.
30th June 2022 at 8:30 pm
Thank you Clik. Football like Christmas never fails to take us back along the corridors of childhood.
24th June 2022 at 3:05 pm
A simple pleasure.
And crafted beautifully.
27th April 2022 at 10:01 pm
Many thanks for featuring my poem. It’s been one hell of a journey but for all the bad times I’m still here supporting my home town club. Play Up Sky Blues !
27th March 2022 at 11:36 am
Re: first verse of ‘My dad’ by Joe Morris..
Great words Joe…Moving.
It also reminds me, of all the people that I’ve been with in my life that just didn’t get football at all, full stop. So basically you never mentioned it, unless you enjoyed dumbfounded stares or extensive yawns! .
People who I talked with at length , often on their level, about loads of other stuff we both loved and like you basically everything but football!
This coincdentally included my strange dad : David Thomas : a brillant bohemian beatnik CND and Peace loving artist. He was someone who, being a very young writer and artist myself , with whom I could have had and shared so much stuff in common, but who I only finally met when I was 15.
As a result, and with the over-riding presence at atmosphere of his new partner and new step-son, I only actually got to see him intermittently very briefly for around 20 years, before he passed on..
Your poem also reminds me of John Lennon’s words from the song ‘Julia’:
Half of what i say is meaningless,
but i say it just to reach you..”
26th March 2022 at 7:04 pm
Haha, thanks Crispin, I hope you can at least see your pie well enough to eat it!
26th March 2022 at 6:58 pm
Great imagery Joe …but I struggeled to read it in the fog at first…
24th March 2022 at 9:28 pm
Looks like FGR are going up as champs Crispin ? A season is the proverbial rollercoaster ride, up and down and twists and turns. As Greavsie said ” It’s a funny old game. ” We love it though. ⚽️
24th March 2022 at 9:12 pm
Tell me about it Kev…!!!!!
Great emotion …just how we’re feeling here in leafy Glos!