Welcome this week to William Gore, who submitted a really touching poem about one of the World’s greats, Garrincha (see below).
I’d also like to take this opportunity to extend our congratulations to Sarah Wardle, a poet and lecturer at Middlesex University, who was recently appointed as poet-in-residence at Tottenham Hotspur, at least until the seasons end (hopefully longer). What a fillip for Football Poets everywhere. Although Sarah hasn’t submitted any poems here yet, she has personally indicated that she hopes to soon. I’m sure our celebrated Arsenal fan, Michael ‘SoonerGooner’ Adubato, can’t wait!
To read more about Sarah’s appointment, follow these links :
Independent : http://enjoyment.independent.co.uk/books/interviews/story.jsp?story=513886
Guardian : http://www.guardian.co.uk/arts/features/story/0,11710,1191658,00.html
BBC : http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/3647215.stm
Also, just a reminder, if you didn’t read the two poems by Pat Ingoldsby, a personal favourite of mine, be sure to look them up.
Stuart likened him to Dennis Gould, who I believe is one of the original Stroud Football Poets, and another very enjoyable read for those of you who haven’t checked out his poems.
William Gore’s great début :
There is a magnificent white tomb
In a small cemetry
At Raiz da Serra in Brazil
A monument to Miguel Campos
A footballer for the local team,
Vila Atletico Clube.
Miguel never brought Brazil to her feet.
Miguel never touched Jules Rimet.
In 1958, you were spectacular!
In 1962, you were God!
How can one man rule the world?
The angel with bent legs,
Who won the World Cup
The history books should read,
1962, World Cup winners-Garrincha
Miguel did not see your first triumph,
And missed the final masterpiece.
He died in 1957, aged twenty five,
It says in gilt, on the front of his tomb
That stands so tall amongst
The slanted slabs of sad grey,
That are the final shrines
To so many departed people.
The neighbour with whom you shared many a night.
The doctor who cared for your sick child,
The father of your best friend.
Each one loved and remembered.
look at the yellow of the small futile flowers.
There is another grave here
Different from the rest
where no flowers sit.
In the shadow of Miguel’s tomb
Lies the final home of Garrincha
Quiet and unkempt.
© William Gore 27/4/04
William adds :
I was inspired to write this poem when reading Alex Bellos’ book “Futebol: The brazilian way of Life”. The idea for the poem came from the moment in the book when the author visits Garrincha’s grave.