Football Poets

A Welcome in September

In September 2007, we welcomed the following new contributors to this site :

David Hyson
Jon A McGuire
David Allan

A blast from the past – a welcome return to
Peter Wyton , who last posted in November 2005

Click on the names above to see that person’s poem(s), or browse some selected first efforts below :

Two very conflicting views on the minutes silence vs minutes applause debate, between Peter & David’s poems. Yet both are very respectful and extremely poignant.

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Beyond Open Play

The pulse races
As eardrums pound
With the silence of those
Who, like I,
Believe joy’s moment nears

I gag on drool,
Rear raised from seat
Willing it,
Wanting it,
Oblivious to others’ fears

Below, the red and blue jostle
On the brink of my anticipation
Shirts pulled,
Torsos are barred
As fingers clutch and stout forearms deny

The man in black strides forward,
Palm raised in caution,
Then barks his words,
A gestured warning –
Transgressors of my rule recoil

Bold ones smile in false apology
Then clutch again, toe treading heel
The law withdraws,
Looks right in acknowledgement
His flute brings deathly hush

Two steps, ball arcs from right to left
Forty thousand vac the air
Eyes follow white through green
Amidst aggression and panic –
He who hesitates plays no part

And, long before the net is bulged,
My view has been obscured
Yet, through the roars of many
I stand, beat chest, raise arms
Then follow joyous celebration

The pulse races
As eardrums pound
With the silence of those
Who, like I,
Believe joy’s moment nears

© John A McGuire 2007

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Rhys At Anfield

Amidst a sea of scarves, teams and officials
Stand in homage. The bereaved family
Approaches the touch-line, three vivid stripes
Of Everton blue on a backdrop of Liverpool red.
Complementary anthems are aired,
The Z-Cars Theme.’You’ll Never Walk Alone’

The spirit of a small boy, kitted out
In his favourite strip, issues from the tunnel,
Scampers across the turf to thump a ball
Firmly between the posts at the Kop end,
Before wheeling away in triumph,
Relishing the applause, his face a picture.

Elsewhere, not a great way from the stadium,
A hooded figure slouches on a bicycle
Outside an electrical good store,
Glowering through plate-glass at rows of sets
Radiating identical images of compassion.
Morose. Isolated. Totally out of it.

© Peter Wyton 07

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The Last Minute

Here the silent minute descends,
Bearing the hush of absent friends.
The acme thunderer’s final blow
Linking the now with long ago.

From Central Park to the streets of Raith,
Remembering them who kept the faith.
Life’s fitba’ passion, the golden thread
Abiding still, sonorous, yet unsaid.

© David Allan
here was a minute’s silence held in honour of two old Cowdenbeath Supporters who had died before Cowden’s 1-0 home win v Raith Rovers. It made me think how much more poignant and affecting this type of tribute is than the tacky minute’s applause.

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When did playing for England become such a dilemma?

The papers are often full of stories
Of the Celtic nations ‘love’ for their national teams
The noisy Scottish support
The blarnie armies of Ireland North and South
The stoical and patient Welsh
Yet England
A once proud nation
Has turned from lion to pussycat.

© David Hyson

really annoys me this club v country debate. how many people in england celebrated the ’66 victory…millions.. and they would again, apathy is because of constant failure over the years and overhyped players. ask Brazilians if they would give up one of their world cups for club.

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