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!
My Account
Latest Poems
Denys E. W. Jones
2nd October 2024
joe morris
2nd October 2024
Mike Bartram
30th September 2024
joe morris
26th September 2024
joe morris
19th September 2024
Clik The Mouse
18th September 2024
Clik The Mouse
18th September 2024
joe morris
16th September 2024
John Gilbert Ellis
12th September 2024
Beth Rogers
12th September 2024
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
13th September 2024 at 6:14 pm
Welcome to Football Poets Beth
Great evocative poem Beth….
More please !
Haiku always welcome.
Hope we (FGR) get to play you again soon
Best
Crispin
See in context
26th July 2024 at 6:25 pm
Great poem Mike Bartram. Eddie was a legend, affectionately known in Liverpool as, “the first hooligan.” Even the hoolies were well dressed in those days. The amazing thing was he was only 26 when that picture was taken. He’d played for Everton youth team and was well known to the players. He never got arrested. They threw him out and he climbed back in, just in time for Derek Temples winner.
I used the picture of him being tackled to the ground on the front cover of my book, “Once Upon a rhyme in Football.” It’s worth looking on youtube and finding the re-enactment of the Wembley scene. Frank Skinner and Baddiel went around to Eddies home in the 1990’s and acted it out on the green outside. It’s hilarious, especially all the effort they put in to get Eddie sober enough to shoot the scene.
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10th July 2024 at 6:07 pm
Hi Crispin,
I don’t know if you’ve see the picture in social media today…
a picture of a teenage Lionel Messi cradling a baby in Africa as part of a photoshoot…. the family had won a lottery to have their baby pictured with him….
the photographer has just revealed that the baby is actually in fact Lamine Yamal!!!!
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26th May 2024 at 2:30 pm
Hi Denys…
Re Man City:
OK it was 20 years ago but Criag Wilson did write this and a few others on them back in 04/05.
BTW I’m more Forest Green Rover since 2014 (and Chelsea) these days . I drum and am a standing season ticket holder .
Best
Crispin
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29th April 2024 at 2:47 pm
Hi Denys,
Yes Richard Williams you’re a brilliant wordsmith, my friend. When I first saw your football poetry I thought it was the superb Guardian sports and music writer. I once had the honour of sitting next to Richard Williams while at the Independent on the sports desk. He writes about music and sport with immense knowledge and authority. I’ve read a couple of Richard’s books recently. Great writer rather like you Richard Williams the Pompey fan. Congratulations on promotion.
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28th April 2024 at 5:59 pm
Thanks Denys. Yes your replay poem was superb.
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26th April 2024 at 4:46 pm
Nice work, Joe. You were quick off the mark with that! Good one from Richard Williams too I see.
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25th April 2024 at 7:33 pm
Hi Denys,
Thanks mate. I’ll do it now.
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25th April 2024 at 1:56 pm
Thanks Joe,
you might like to write a poem yourself on the same subject…
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23rd April 2024 at 4:03 pm
Hi Denys
With you all the way on the abolition of FA Cup replays. What are they doing to the game?
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