1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 I opened the door to a gunmetal Belfast sky,
And clothed in my English prejudice,
I took a Good Friday walk up to Stormont,
Over odd bits of carpet soaked in disinfectant,
Past stickers on the Beech tree trunks,
“Fight the Good Fight.www.org.”,
Through celandine, speedwell and anemone,
(Or is it anenome?)
Through springtime woodland,
(Far away from arid disputations
Over Easter Lilies, Nominalism,
And Semiology;
A rose is a rose is a rose,
But a lily is not a lily is not a lily,
It’s a Republican symbol)
To reach the Protestant statuary;
Carson, still defiant after all these years,
And Demeter,
Chastened by the North’s frosty breath,
“Thrift is the gleaner behind all human effort.”
So I decided to save money,
By catching the bus down on the Newtonards Road,
Where I watched a man buy some scratch cards,
And saw a small boy kick his football
Against the shop wall mural,
“We Will Always Be British”,
UVF heroes serving as goalkeepers.
I noticed he had a left foot.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/symbols/