In August 2007, we welcomed the following new contributors to this site (surprisingly few, given the advent of a new season 🙁
From Manchester Grammar Public School, we welcome :
A blast from the past – a welcome return to
Chris Boothby , whose tactics to date appear to be to post up a season opener only!
Click on the names above to see that person’s poem(s), or browse some selected first efforts below :
Non’s keeper patch
In my garden I have found
a big brown circle on the ground.
Don’t tell my mum or she will scream,
she thinks the garden’s only green.
If she knew, she’d stand and stare,
and wonder how the patch got there.
My sister, Non, is to blame,
That’s where she practises the beautiful game.
Penalties and corners for hours on end,
if Mum sees the patch, she’ll go round the bend.
© brychan humphries
I am 8. Mum knows about the patch in the garden. My sister, Non, once dived into the wall – but she did save!
They wake up in their arsenal beds,
and walk accross the arsenal floor.
They open the arsenal curtains,
and exit by the arsenal door.
The two Arsenal kids at the table,
eating breakfast off their arsenal plates.
Run off to put their arsenal kits on.
Before playing with their arsenal mates.
Back home to watch arsenal on the telly,
they have a great arsenal time.
while I am in the garden,
hanging arsenal on the line.
They sit at the table now.
I ask “kids, what are you doing”
They look up at me and smile
“we’re writng an arsenal poem”
© debra humphries
i’m not a poet and i know it! my kids made me do this.
If you can reach a header when all about you are missing theirs and blaming you
If you can shoot yourself instead of passing but make allowances for the rebound too
If you can run when you are tired of running
Or being talked about but don’t talk about others
Or being taunted but don’t give way to taunting
and yet don’t look too smart or talk too much
If you can dream of glory and not make glory your master
If you can think and not let thoughts affect your aim
If you can see triumph and not disaster
and treat home games and away games just the same
If you can bear to hear results you have dreaded
Twisted by strikers that beat an off side trap for fools
Or watch your goalie beaten and stoop and build him up with worn out boots
If you can make one cross connection and all free kicks count
If you are losing and can come back and win it
and never doubt that you would win it
If you can play from your heart keep your nerve you’ll win now
To swerve and turn your man sees you are gone
And hold up play when no ones with you
except the will to just hang on
If you can please the crowds and keep your shirt on
or win each game with just a touch
if neither foe’s or friends can hurt you
if all the team can count on you, not one but all
If you can play for 90 minutes with both halves filled with skill
yours is the premiership and all that’s with it
and which is more you’ll be a man of the match my son
Inspired by a poem by Rudyard Kipling
© neil rockley
I wrote this poem when Bradford city entered the premiership
Recalling the brightest sunny days
Of April, after the close of haze
Of Winter leading gorgeous months of Spring,
Leaving melodies of jingle ring,
When I was at High School!!
Day passed away in reading books,
Imagining her in clear brooks,
Of ideas, of love and fear,
How would her departure this soul bear?
When I was at High School!
Oh could not forget Football hours,
When I played in ground, she poured,
Drops of support from her deeps eyes,
I always won in hue and cry!
When I was at High School!
She loved football, she love the game,
Her passion gave me highest fame,
Winning her hand was but my aim,
Winning football was winning the Dame!
May she live long and watch the world,
The rising contests and flags unfurled.
The World Cup, Peelo, Zedan,
All new old and new thrilling men,
When I was at High School!!!
© mujtaba haider zaidi
Haiku : It’s tough being a Spurs fan
Two games in and hope departs
Reality bites !
© Chris Boothby