A January welcome ……
Lots to mention this month, plus a few links for you to explore.
January brought us 15 new poets, they being (in chronological order of appearance on the site) :
Jack Smith
Christopher T. George
James Francis Bodi
Jim Bennett
David Whippman
Jacques Lacan
Seamus McAfee
Alec Finlay
Philip Johnson
George Kirby – the Boro Bard
Jim McDowell
pompeyknight
Pete Bowler
Jon Monsour
Matt Stewart
We extend a warm welcome to everyone of them.
I’m particularly pleased to welcome Christopher T George to this site. I have enjoyed Chris’s poems on the internet for the last few years. He contributes to the Dublin Writers’ Workshop and gives very warm and helpful reviews to all the contributers there. Chris is originally from Liverpool, but has lived for 36 years in America. More information on Chris can be found at his website,
http://chrisgeorge.netpublish.net/index.htm
Chris also introduced to us, Liverpool poet (Everton fan), Jim Bennett, who now runs the Poetrykit website at www.poetrykit.org .
The Football Poets website made the top 5 nominations in an inaugural award run by the Poetry Kit organisation. Congrats to Larry Jaffe who won the ‘Internet Poetry Site’ award. Our thanks to whoever it was, that proposed the Football Poets website.
I’m also pleased to welcome George Kirby – the self styled Boro Bard. George is 73 years old and only took up an interest in computers and the internet on his retirement. His personal website can be found at
www.theborobard.co.uk –
we send our best wishes to George for a forthcoming event on his diary.
This month, for your delectation, I’m re-producing the following selection of poems :
United
in the refugee camp
people wear t-shirts
that come as gifts
on a lorry
from England
some sit
eyes distant
others wait in line
a child looking
at the driver
asks
“How are Manchester United
doing?”
others kick cans
and play football
in the dust
© Jim Bennett
poetrykit.org
A belated Happy Birthday to Chris George!
And so many good poems to choose from (25 at time of writing this editorial).
Plumped for this light hearted retrospective poem.
Direct Hit, Calderstones Park, 1967
In the Quarry Bank lunch hour, I play footie
with Andy, Garth, and Billy Lynch.
We lay our blazers down for goalposts
on the grass near Calderstones mansion.
A mongrel runs up, pauses, and pees
on a blazer. Everyone but Andy laughs.
© Christopher T. George 2005
This is one of several footie-related poems I am adapting from my 1976 chapbook, “Toxteth,” which comprises a long biographical poem about my younger days in Liverpool. I turn age 57 tomorrow (January 10, 2005). Wow, this is history.
The final whistle
The final whistle’s blown its blast, the Man walks silently away,
The crowd stare where he breathed his last, their eyes all misty grey,
The goals, the cheers, the heartaches too, flash by as on a screen,
We watch in awe as Lisbon’s Lord departs the final scene.
The rock hard jaw, the ready smile, the care, the love, the Man,
From Wales to Glasgow he spun his web of football’s simple plan,
And at each stop along the way, where folk will reminisce
They’ll raise their thumb and thank you John for days of sporting bliss
And then we all will realise that no-one comes by chance,
Those stunted teachings of your youth discarded like a glance,
For gruff and surly though you seemed, you’d stand your ground and fight,
For what you knew deserved your faith, for what you knew was right.
And now for all that you have done, for dispelling bigots lies,
You’ve ascended from the holy ground to the original Paradise,
And up on Heaven’s hallowed turf, you’ve picked an angels’ side,
At last with you to organsise,.. the devil’s on the slide.
© Matt Stewart 22nd January 2005
Written on staring dumbfounded and teary eyed at the Television Screen as the Scotland versus Wales world cup qualifier ended on 10th Serptember 1985. Scotland won the match, but lost something and someone far more important that night…..The night Jock Stein died!
Resection Surgery, April 1982
just a minor edit, he said, as he put me under
all their hands were quickly inside me
the whole team
an onion bag was tugged out
we played football
manchester united 1 Liverpool 1
one minute to time
the ball came to me at the pefect height for a volley
their goal was wide open
all I needed do was make connection
the crowd, in anticipation, began to roar
come on Philip, wake up, its all over, we’re back on the ward
© Philip Johnson
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!
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Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
19th November 2023 at 1:45 pm
Thanks Gacina, glad you liked it, and I have just posted a new one about our points deduction…
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7th November 2023 at 6:34 pm
Today B.B.C post on F.B was titled:Premier League reduced to 18 clubs? I really think it may be interesting to see if this would be Everton’s nightmare and this poem is well suited for this concern.If there would be more difficult battle to stay if there were 18 teams.Great poem and somehow true.
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6th November 2023 at 4:43 pm
Ashington FC have launched a £50,000 Crowdfunder appeal to meet the increased costs of winning promotion last season, to pay for urgent stadium improvements, travel costs and equipment
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31st October 2023 at 4:26 pm
‘Three Teams Worse Than Us’ from our Toffee friend Denys in Italy, also sums up how FGR fans currently feel. Yes, in our case, with two going down to the Conference, it could be entitled ‘Two Teams Worse Than Us’, but three would make us feel even safer.
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6th October 2023 at 11:49 pm
Enjoy it while you can, although I’m sure Mbappe could well be bound for St James
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2nd October 2023 at 1:52 pm
There still remains a magic about the early rounds of the FA Cup that the premier league / internationals can never match.
Coventry Sphinx v Leicester Nirvana sounds so much more than a tale of two cities etc. etc.
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24th September 2023 at 5:14 pm
Very accurate indeed!
Palace home for me is always a tough journey as well. From the wilds of west London to Selhurst is a random journey into the unknown.
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20th September 2023 at 1:37 pm
Lovely stuff for one of the best.
We love him to death down at the Palace.
I’ll post my Roy poem a bit later. You’ve inspired me to finish it.
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19th September 2023 at 5:06 pm
I’d like to think some of my scarves might get passed down the generations, but can’t see some of the “quality merchandise” I have making much past my son’s generation. They’ll fall apart before he even has kids, I reckon!
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7th September 2023 at 2:43 pm
Very true Crispin. Thanks!
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