Virus claims football before Christmas
¶ 1
Leave a comment on verse 1 0
Oh surely not
Again, history
Repeats itself
Agonisingly so
Football brought
To a grinding halt
By viruses, and
A week before
The festive jollities
Today football
Gazes into the hollow
Emptiness of Covid 19
Or the moronic anagram
Stricken down by global
Despondency, sickening
For somebody to wrap
A sympathetic shoulder
Around its egos, the vanity
Project of TV exposure
But football downed by
Aching illness, postponed
For a while but how long
Before the supporters
Begin to wail and groan
Their understandable displeasure
At bronchial or respiratory
Wheezes, but this time
It’s Omicron, oh those
Anti bodies have blocked
Goal scoring opportunities
Penalty box skirmishes
The rough and tumble
Only Leeds and Arsenal left
But this is a nostalgic
Leap back to the 1972
Cup Final when Alan
Clarke launched himself
Like a missile
Or perhaps a graceful
Swallow diving his
Header heroically
Past an Arsenal keeper
Named Barnett
Not a million miles
Away from Highbury
But today the Premier
League stares out of
Forlorn windows, crying
And whimpering at
The desolation of the day
Terraces bereft of
Humanity, none of the
Consolations of highlights
Or repeats on
Match of the Day
Just pain and longing
To be among the community
Of scarves and outlandish
Banners, programmes
Like holiday brochures
Liteary goldmines
But we’ll miss
Mo Salah, Raheem
Sterling, Lukaku
Pulisic and even
Citizen Kane
Spurs without
Orson Wells
Perhaps fifteen
Times removed
American cousin
Distant, but
Fondly remembered
These are the cogs
And spark plugs
Of the Premier League
The lightning conductors
Goal scorers of breeding
From the grammar schools
Of football’s seat of learning
Today though they
Will huddle around the tinsel
And baubles of their family
Christmas glitter fest
Reflecting on what might
Have been but then
Resigned to their fate
Because the race for the title
Is on, could be closer than
Ever, a pulsating throb
Of the pulmonary glands
Excitement yet to be born
But today a stillness and quiet
Hangs like a grey blanket
Over St Mary’s, the Etihad,
Anfield, Goodison, vast
Edifices of passionate
Attachment to the cause
Never failing in their support
Kindred spirits
Through thick and thin
No football today
But plenty of vocal
Contributions
Yet to be made.
How we love life
And football
Comments
0 Comments on the whole Poem
Create an account to leave a comment on the whole Poem
0 Comments on verse 1
Create an account to leave a comment on verse 1