to faith in sometimes……… (survival of the wealthiest)
remember when we used to say
survival of the fittest
these days wealth is the new fitness it seems
but what is wealth
skill talent money or humour?
sometimes – in order to survive
we look to wealth –
that which we have
and that which we don’t
just to survive
to rise above and endure
the slings and euros
of other clubs’ outrageous fortunes
and by staying up somehow – to end them
long gone euphoria
long gone optimism
long gone early season aspirations
when fixtures blank were beckoning
with hopes high and soaring
such is this life – up and down
keeping afloat – flaunting riches – or feigning them
existing on the breadline
as poets – how like unknown footballers we are
torn forever twixt dreams of promotion
and nightmares of relegation
longing to love and be loved
from the Guardian to the Mirror
from OK to Hello
When Saturday Comes to 4-4-2
the stuff of dreams is classless..
hello reality -whatever it is
sometimes we forget
to remember
what came first
the football or the passion
the play or the players
the game or the glamour
and sometimes it’s hard to see
the Sky or the mountain
the game for the hype
the beauty for the tension
the wood for the trees
the quality – the result
but sometimes we remember
we are being breathed
sometimes we forget
both mountains will always be there
the mountains of things that we do
the mountains to climb and the view
and sometimes we feel
however high we climb
however much we move
we are still in the same place
but something moves
something changes
and something grows
what do you call it ?
i call it love
love of the game
love of football
love of believing
love of life
but sometimes
when we leave that crazy mountain
the endless pile that we create
to climb that living mountain
eyes open
hearts soar
time freezes
and we remember
to take a breath
and in that moment
wherever you stop
to choose a spot
maybe that is the very spot…
where
content with yourself
at peace with your team
wherever they began
and wherever they end up
a place to be
where grass grows under your feet
but the ball of your heart is in the air
a place to be you
a place to be grateful
a place to be free
a place to be safe
whatever safety means to you that is…
and in this life
surely
isn’t that
always
the best place to be?.
until next season that is……
About This Site
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!
My Account
Latest Poems
Gacina Bozidar
3rd February 2023
Gacina Bozidar
3rd February 2023
joe morris
3rd February 2023
Stuart Butler
2nd February 2023
Denys E. W. Jones
30th January 2023
joe morris
29th January 2023
Crispin Thomas
25th January 2023
joe morris
23rd January 2023
Denys E. W. Jones
23rd January 2023
joe morris
14th January 2023
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
5th December 2022 at 8:11 pm
Stuart, you are not alone, in your dichotomy of doubt
but without dissention
you stand alone
in hogging our attention!
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16th November 2022 at 11:04 am
[Football on soiled turf]
This is a wonderful phrase which I shall be using from now on!
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15th November 2022 at 3:54 pm
Well said Crispin. One of the reasons for The Ball 2022/23 is exactly this – that FIFA need to know. The Ball is essentially a petition to FIFA to honour their commitments to the UN Sports for Climate Action Framework. They signed up; they should act. The Qatar tournament takes the World Cup in the opposite direction to that commitment. And 2026 looks like it’ll be even worse.
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8th November 2022 at 2:06 pm
Hi Guys
Re ‘Lets Boycott Qatar ‘ poem
You probably hate me banging on..and problably know (like me) that my/your not watching the World Cup in Qatar will make no difference.
Of course it won’t. That’s not the point.
OK someone might possibly eventually publish a minimal drop in terrestrial TV viewer numbers, but I fear that is unlikely.
But please above all, do go on writing poems about the World Cup, as/you we have always done. I hate to think a poem or two of mine might l make you feel bad about comenting on a game or country …or that I’ve put you all off about wanting to contribute.
So we’d love to hear from you and read your thoughts and observations, as ever on what’s going on.
Some of us have been here since Football Poets website birth/inception for the Euros 2000 ….
All my best wishes
Crispin
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18th October 2022 at 10:06 am
Shoot! (Something we’ve also been screaming in vain at our team all season !)
Great memories Joe . Before Shoot, it was Roy of the Rovers comic too, dropping through my letterbox.
Anxiously waiting each week to see if they survived in the mexcian jungle after an ambush..or a pre-season earthquake!
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3rd October 2022 at 8:32 pm
Thanks for the kind words Sharon. Yes, it was a shame with Billy Shako, but with five subs now being allowed, he might yet make it off the bench. Even if it’s just a cameo to close out a poem.
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2nd October 2022 at 1:49 pm
John, your new book is an absolute delight and more please. It’s a shame ‘Swapping Shirts With Shakespeare’ never made it off the bench, but quality football poets light up the writing fields like Roman candles. Go well.
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4th September 2022 at 12:42 pm
Great memories Greg. Took me right back.
Today I stand on a small terrace in the hills where I live watching Forest Green Rovers in L1, and keep up with Chelsea on highlights. It’s a far cry and a world away from those times when I lived as a child within walking distance of ‘The Bridge’ – just off the Ifield Road, which led to Fulham Road. The Blues were rubbish for so long, but we loved them and somehow we stayed in the old First Division for so many seasons. And of course we got to see Greavesie at his impudent best, scoring goals for fun. Mad unpredictable games where we’d score 4 and let in five.
The looming floodlights in the dark and mist on magic night games. The big games when the ground heaved.
I don’t think we ever realized how magical and incredible it was back then. The atmosphere and arriving there so early – like you said.. just to make sure you got in. Back when Bovril, tea and cake and roasted peanuts for sixpence a back were just about all on offer.
Good times.
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4th September 2022 at 12:37 pm
see above
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18th August 2022 at 10:20 am
To put it politely!
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