A July Welcome
A warm welcome to all the new poets who joined us in the month of July 2005.
And only enough this month to field a five-a-side team!
Obviously, a quiet month. By the time of the next month end, we’ll have welcomed in the new season! (in England)
In time honoured chronological order, the new joiners are as follows …..
Clare Johnson
Andy Maher
Paul Lavender
Joanne Richards
G V Perkins
The following is a selection of their poems.
Starting with Clare Johnson, who would appear to be a member of the media, giving us a different angle on the game.
Clare posted this poem up as her first offering, quite a provocative post, which drew some comments.
Everyone’s entitled to their opinions. I’d go along with some of her points, but felt the jibe at the Football Poets was a little unwarranted – some of the best poems (on a regular basis) are from a welcome stream of female poets.
It’s just another Boys Club
Football is a Boys Club
We’re tolerated aren’t we
Those of us with a little something missing
We who are “the other”
It’s a Boys Club football
And football poetry too
It’s all the same
The only women you see
Working in football
Are decorations
Eye candy they call them
Bagging footballers in their dreams
In the nets for tights
The rest of us
Who understand the offside rule
Who freeze in lines of sneers
And sexist comments we’re meant to hear
Know we’re tolerated just
But we’ll never really belong
Football is a Boys Club.
© Clare
Hiding Bias
I wish I could pretend
That I didn’t support this home team
I’m usually at games that for me
Are neutral
But when our centre forward
Cracked a goal from
All of 30 yards
I flung the press pack in the air
Leaped to the sky
And cheered with the rest
Of the ecstatic home crowd.
© Clare
Just lost it for a moment or two or three or four, usually very professional!
An inaccurate version of footballing history
Sir Matt Busby it was
The first one to die.
He went up to that great soccer pitch in the sky
Who are you? Said the Lord…
I’m Matt Busby, said Matt
The king of United, Old Trafford, all that….
I’m mad about football!
God said with glee
Come here, sit down and talk soccer to me
Then Catterick kicked off
For the game in the clouds
His passing was mourned by the Goodison crowds
And God looked at Harry
Said “Come in, sit down”
“Wer’e talking about Arsenal and Huddersfield Town”
Then Shankly came up
Saw Harry and Matt
And God – in the middle – on his throne he was sat.
And God looked at Shankly
Said ” I know your face”
I’m Bill Shankly” says Bill “And you’re in my place”…..
© Andy Maher 8 July 2005
In 1970, when pre-eminence was with three North Western football clubs, I wrote this poem, having heard the inevitable joke and because my uncle had promised a prize to the best poem produced by me and my three brothers
Hail the Horse (West Bromwich Albion v Portsmouth: May 15th 2005)
The Horse lies left-side-down on green, green turf,
so still that he could almost be asleep,
slowly stretches steel-forged sinews
to extend a studded boot one inch beyond the thin, white line.
Drawn in, as if by magnets, to the Zone,
this questing foot alone betrays his hunger for the fight.
The Horse is beautiful, but he is man not boy,
well past the age when to be young and fabulously fit is all the eye requires.
He is so solid: flesh, bones, dense with strength of purpose.
As he rises, every reflex is responsive; each muscle knows its job.
The eyes are carnivore: all focus, nothing missed;
the roaring crowd might not exist.
The Horse is skipping, darting, dancing on the touchline.
He is limber and alert.
He knows he can deliver, wears the mantle of belief.
It is time; the Horse is ready.
He is stripped down to his stripes,
revealing number nine emblazoned bloody on his back.
Announced by lights, he gains the field,
high-fives a lanky, long-haired lad retreating from the fray,
acknowledges the anthem sung exclusively for him
(to the tune of Bread of Heaven)
Feed the Horse! Feed the Horse! Feed the Horse and he will score.
Feed the Horse and he will score.
This Horse is the last hero in his General’s hand of cards.
He is Praetorian, Imperial, the Panzer tank of strikers:
his purpose is to act – not think:
fearless, unremitting, do or die.
Trot… canter… gallop;
the Horse takes up position, watches for the chance…
… which comes in less than thirty seconds.
Swivel… target… volley…Whoosh!
The stadium erupts into a cataclysm of joy.
There’s football history in the making: the Great Escape is on,
so hail the Horse! Hail the Horse!
Today, he is the one.
© Joanne Richards 22 May 2005
Watching Geof Horsfield warm up to come on for a sub for West Bromwich Abion on survival Sunday, I was inspired. Fortunately, so was he!
The Penalty
The dust has settled
The place has been picked
The goal like a gallows
My neck on the line
The keeper’s eyes
Round like dishes
Trying to suss
Which way to dive
He does his shuffles
Trying to outpsych me
He cracks his knuckles
Trying to entice me
A quick despatch
Catches him offguard
As I send the ball
Low and hard
His despairing fingers
Fail to connect
The ball now nestles
In the back of the net.
© Paul Lavender
the hook
what was it ?
the hook that got you.
a name?
a jumper?
a shout?
a song?
the ground?
the pitch?
a goal?
THAT goal?
THAT thirty yard screamer from the right channel?
what was it that got to you?
what was it?
© G V Perkins
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
John Gilbert Ellis
28th November 2024
joe morris
26th November 2024
Denys E. W. Jones
26th November 2024
Gacina Bozidar
26th November 2024
Wynn Wheldon
26th November 2024
joe morris
17th November 2024
Crispin Thomas
17th November 2024
kevin halls
10th November 2024
joe morris
10th November 2024
Clik The Mouse
10th November 2024
Crispin’s Corner
In Memoriam
Kick It Out & Christmas Truce
Latest Comments
27th November 2024 at 5:55 am
‘You’re Supposed To Be At Home’ is an excellent and moving poem Denys.
You start off thinking it’s just about another oft-sung chant, one we personally heard a lot last season throughout our second relegation in a row here at Forest Green(FGR) ! I always love poems where you think they are saying one thing and then they suddenly pull you deeper to somewhere or something else else.
I’m currently helping in a local school for FGR in a voluntary capacity using football to help young students with reading. At an upcoming session we will tackle racism, just like we did in workshops at football schools and grounds when we first started this site 24 years ago. I’m gonna try and weave your poem into a session.
We’ve added it to the Anti- Racism/Kick It Out section under Crispin’s Corner.
Best C
See in context
26th November 2024 at 1:59 pm
Great poem and great to see you back Wyn.
Don’t leave it so long next time my friend!
More please.
See in context
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.
See in context
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!!!!
See in context
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
See in context
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.
See in context
28th April 2024 at 5:59 pm
Thanks Denys. Yes your replay poem was superb.
See in context
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.
See in context
25th April 2024 at 7:33 pm
Hi Denys,
Thanks mate. I’ll do it now.
See in context