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Poems tagged ‘R.I.P.’

Sixty Second Minute

John Gilbert Ellis

Tuesday, January 28th, 2025

With sixty-two minutes played
at a rancid, rainy Selhurst Park,
two photographs appear 
on the jumbo screen, floating 
over the on-pitch preparations
to take a disputed penalty.

Matthew Higgins and Mick Lloyd
sixty-two years of age
eternal supporters, fathers,
stalwarts, drivers and friends,
give us a mirrored reminder
of well lived lives played out
with more than nil-nil intent.

A minute of gentle clapping
rises in kind acknowledgment
of their coincidental death,
while on the pitch,
the bickering football match
continues oblivious and intense.

The whistle blows, and the ball
stumbles towards a Palace post.
The penalty kiss and miss
takes the crowd by surprise
enough to break the reverential bliss.

Claps turn to jeers and boos.
A lifetime chance squandered,
life come breaking in, as usual,
leaves us with the ‘if onlys’ to ponder.

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Heaven Struck By Thunderbolt (R.I.P Peter Lorimer)

John J O’Connor

Sunday, March 21st, 2021

The strike of a thunderbolt blasts past Heaven’s Gates
and God says to Jack Charlton
“‘ere’s one of your mates,
I know Trevor and Norman
will be both happy too,”
as he nods to Saint Peter
to let Lorimer through.

“There’s a place for you Peter
out there on that wing.
Now be easy with your shooting
cos your shots don’t ‘arf sting.”

So he met with his Leeds team- mates
and they reminisced of the past
as Revie watched proudly
at Peter having a blast.

So Rest in Peace to the Scotsman
with the right foot of power
that terrified free kick walls
and made goalkeepers cower.

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Bobby Kellard (he was Well ‘ard)

John J O’Connor

Friday, January 15th, 2021

Some players are born to ramble
Others play for just one side
Bobby Kellard played for eight different teams
And led them all with pride.

Robert Sydney William Kellard
A north Londoner by birth
A born and natural, feisty leader
And a salt man of the earth

Near the earth, he was we know
Standing only five feet four
But anyone tackled by Bobby Kellard
Always came out bruised and sore

His son Rob was often told by fans
‘you’re dad was a dirty player’
“No, he was just a little bit ‘ard,” said Rob
“He always tried to play it fair.”

He started out with Southend United
Then was signed, by Palace boss Dick Graham
And in midfields throughout the football world
Bobby Kellard caused sheer mayhem.
Combative, ferocious, tenacious
Were descriptive words for Bobby
Whose ruthlessness in winning tackles
Was on par with MacKay and Nobby.

Sold by Palace to Ipswich town
Was the man with the chest of barrel
Bought by Bristol City, Pompey,
and then Leicester’s Frank O’Farrell
He re-signed for Palace in 71
About forty grand we paid
And after just half a dozen games
Our captain he was made.
He led us into battle
Saved the team from relegation
Loved by all the Palace fans
For his inspirational dedication.
He weren’t no Martin Peters
And he weren’t no Johnny Giles
But to the fans of Crystal Palace
He brought happiness and smiles.

He was transferred back to Pompey
Where he made the history books
Being the first player ever sent off on a Sunday
After throwing a few right hooks.
So Bobby you were a rare one
A captain through and through
While some players for brekks have cornflakes
It was nails that you would chew.
So for all the clubs you rambled
And all the grounds you played
The name of Bobby Kellard
Will never, ever fade.

R.I.P. Bobby

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R.I.P. Diego

John J O’Connor

Thursday, November 26th, 2020

Diego dribbled up to heaven
Where he met Saint Peter at the gate.
who looked at his credentials
And said “give me a minute mate.”

He then came back from God’s room
Saying, “I’m sorry but you’re banned
God said one time you borrowed
But did not return his hand.

So you’ll do some time in purgatory
Where you’ll repent with other sinners
And you won’t be allowed in heaven
Until England are World Cup winners.”

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“Don’t Get Me Wrong.” (R.I.P. Ray Clemence)

John J O’Connor

Sunday, November 15th, 2020

Graeme Souness, of his keeper
Brad Friedel did rave
As he acknowledged his brilliance
for an exceptional save.
“If it were nae for Brad,
Blackburn would have got hammered today
It was only himself that kept Tottenham at bay.”
He said, ” Brad’s better than Bosnich,
that bloke from Australia
And more agile than Seaman and the Pool’s Pepe Reina
He reminds me of Shilton
in that he hardly does wrong
No wonder our fans
sing his name out in song.”
With the interview near finished
Graeme thought hard and long
And he started his last sentence
By saying, don’t get me wrong.

“DON’T GET ME WRONG, HE’S NO RAY CLEMENCE.”

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Nobby Stiles, RIP

Clik The Mouse

Friday, October 30th, 2020

That cheeky toothless grin
That enormous will to win
Was the foundation stone

That famous jaunty jig
That doughty heart so big
Made the German’s groan

But United we stand
All (virtually) hand in hand
To acknowledge your passing

So easy to detect
Our love and respect
As absolute and everlasting

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Parked Run

Clik The Mouse

Friday, February 14th, 2020

I crossed over the road from the undertakers
walked in through the park gate
and there it was:
my old pitch, bathed in beautiful sun
still there
still marked, still in obvious use
And I remembered back
to my very first game –
you got me hand-me down footwear, aye,
but just like “Billy’s Boots”, they became my very own
and I scored 2 goals
and you were so proud
and so pleased for me.
After that, you didn’t watch much
for you were never a ‘soccer mom’
but you were great for the fundraisers
your baking legendary, ditto your infectious sense of fun
and as ever, you got me started, got me going, chivvied me along
knowing my interest.
I didn’t score many more goals
for I was better as a defender
likewise you, protecting Dad, Adrian & Claire.

Many years have passed
and now I’m back where it all started
here in Bushy Park
slogging my way around the original Parkrun venue
but I have you at my shoulder, egging me on
in fact pushing me on, to a PB.
Ok, it’s not enough, to get my name
reverberating around Stamford Bridge
nor Griffen Park
but as I stagger over the finish line
I know I have many more races left in me
whereas
your race has run.
The pain is etched in my heart
as you help God roll out the sun.

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gone too soon

Clik The Mouse

Tuesday, June 11th, 2019

You don’t expect the younger generation
To have their number put up
On God’s electronic board

When the good race is run, yes
But not subbed too early
To join Heaven’s horde

Justin Edinburgh
Mocked early doors
For his no-nonsense style

But those that got to know him
Saw the inner truth
And shared in every smile

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Source: https://footballpoets.org/news/poem-tags/r-i-p/