March 11, 2012

 

 

Aren’t we all just products,

Of what has gone before?

Although we think we’ve left the past

We never quite shut the door !

 

 

The Director of Football

The top man and coach

The Chairman with money

Who the Gaffer must approach

The band of supporters

Loyal men and true

The match day officials

Who can make dreams come true

Or ruin them too, in the blow of a whistle

The linesman so blind he can

Make your hairs bristle

The waterlogged pitch

The game sadly abandoned

The Park frozen so hard

The players hardly can stand on

The ups and the downs

The banter and ranting

Make Saturday what it is

Win or lose fans are chanting

 

 

 

 

The timing wasn’t right,

But then – is it ever?

So many plans on hold

Until the twelfth of never.

 

Schemes and dreams all squashed,

Swept out to sea so fast

What they had got lined up

Like history, now is past

 

Tidal waves still flood the mind,

The horror, daily comes to visit.

The hopelessness of those poor souls,

To just have fun was their requisite

 

The ones who came by chance

Looked fate into it’s eye.

Whilst others booked their journey,

Well before the tide was high.

 

Disastrous though it was,

Gladly some lives were saved.

Such lucky ones indeed.

For whom destiny’s path was paved.

 

Alas, it’s thought provoking

And it proves the sea is cruel.

This greater force around us

Is such a powerful tool.

 

 

March 10, 2012

The pies and the pasties

The lukewarm tea

The foul-mouthed chanting

Unfit for him at my knee

The queue for the loo

Each man desperate to pee

The cheer from the crowd

The excitement, the glee

The disallowed goal

Scored all in vain

The deafening drumbeat

Of the insane

The missed handball

The Ref’s a ‘gobbin! ’

Sing fifty thousand

Men all sobbin

The desperation

the ‘off-side’ rule

The bloody idiot

The stupid fool

The player was king

A minute ago

Now he’s sent off

for a vicious blow

Then the debut kid

Gets a yellow card

For an eager tackle

Too late by a yard

 And at the end

Time’s added on

But by then

Half of them

Have gone

Some ecstatic

Some bereft

The winning goal

Was outright theft

They rant and rave

And say ‘no more’

But come next week

Into grounds they pour

With hopes renewed

And faith restored.

 

 

 

We don’t grow up – we just grow wiser,

and give ourselves a break

We just move on – we learn some sense

For everybody’s sake

 

February 26, 2012

 

An open goalmouth

What is the lad doing?

His shot went wide

And had the crowd booing

 

 

She suddenly saw him across the room.

The man with whom she’d once had a steamy affair.

She remembered how he’d tied her to the bed,

As she abandoned every care.

 

Now wasn’t the moment to approach him,

They were both in another space and time

But their eyes locked in total memory,

Recalling what was then quite sublime.

 

Her whole body seemed to tingle,

 And her head, it felt quite light.

A bright flush of redness came to her cheeks,

As she thought of that wonderful night.

 

A few minutes later he walked to the door.

It was impossible for either to speak.

He turned back to look at her one last time,

And suddenly her knees went quite weak.

 

Thank goodness that moment was over.

Thank goodness that the sun once shone.

It is all part of life’s rich tapestry.

But she couldn’t help wonder where he’d gone!

 

 

He is the butterfly that

Flutters by the tree

He is the songbird

Who chirps with glee

He is in the eyes of

 the child at your knee

He’s there beside you

And forever will be

 

 

Oh what fun it is

Chasing the chaste!

But once in her web

-I retreat – post haste

 

 

It doesn’t really matter

if the job is not quite done!

We can finish it tomorrow

At our leisure in the sun

 

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