The Gay Spirit Inside
He was born gay, and tried to hide his ways
Born with everything of a man
But with a woman’s gentle hand.
Raised in a gang infested area and being
Different Was even more scarier.
So to survive he had to show he was a macho man
So he made his football plans.
Not realizing that now he could see
That he would change drastically.
Seeing his fellow players in the nude
Made him depressed and he started to brood.
He longed to scream out loud
That he was gay and very proud.
But he knew that it could affect his family too
So he didn’t know what he should do.
His anger made him as strong as can be
He tackled players like you would never see.
Avoiding the female race, he would say
That football was first place.
He became a professional player, and with it
He gained fame and wealth
But deep inside it affected his health.
So after he turned twenty eight
He decided it could not wait.
He called a press conference and said he had
Something of importance to say.
“ I’ve been hiding this for many a year
Now it’s time that with you I share”
“I AM GAY”
When he saw the publics reaction, and all the clapping.
He knew that his soul was finally free and
No longer had to live in misery.
SEXUAL PREFERENCE HAS NOTHING TO DO
WITH WHAT’S INSIDE OF YOU.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Macho Men
we try to be macho men who very rarely speak
but deep inside we are weak.
weak to the feelings that we have locked up inside.
feelings that we try to hide.
we have to be macho men to the female race
moving slow with a steady pace.
our egotistical pride is how we survive.
we always dream of being that
knight in shining armour
rescuing the maiden and her honor.
but that could never be, for the knights died in history.
so we strut like a peacock with pride
raise our heads to the sky.
(hiding what we feel inside)
this is the life of a macho man.
he is filled with pride
and always having
a woman by his side.
of this i can not deny.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Raised On Rock
(words & music by mark james)
I remember as a child I used to hear
Music that they played lord with a feel
Some call it folk, some call it soul
People let me tell you it was rock and roll
I was raised on rock, I got rhythm in my soul
Every day when I got home I turned on my radio
Listening to the music that my idols made
I knew every single record the djs played
A honky tonk a hound dog, a johnny b. goode
Chain gang, love is strange, knock on wood
I was raised on rock, I got rhythm in my soul
I was born to love the beat I was made for rock and roll
I thought it was a fad, thought that it would pass
But the younger generation knew it would last
Times gone by, the beat goes on
But every time I hear it lord it takes me home
I was raised on rock, I got rhythm in my soul
Every day when I got home I turned on my radio
Mother played recordings of beethovens fifth
Mozarts sonatas down the classical liszt
My papa loved to listen to his country songs
While I was in the back room rockin on
I was raised on rock, I got rhythm in my soul
I was born to love the beat I was made for rock and roll
I was raised on rock, I got rhythm in my soul
I was born to love the beat I was made for rock and roll
I was raised on rock, I got rhythm in my soul
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eleven rules of football
I took my little boy
to a nearby football pitch
He said he was tired
of playing hide and seek
He now wanted a football
to play around and kick
As he clutched my hand
I spoke to him
and tried to make him understand
the eleven rules of football
taking into consideration
that he was quite small
Now rule number one
Football is made of eleven strong men
When one or two are naughty
you may still get away
with playing nine or ten
Rule number two
When a member of your crew
hits the ball into the net
A goal is scored
that I can place a bet
For I am very sure
Rule number three
The maximum number of players
you can substitute is three
It does not cost a dime
It is totally free
Rule number four
There are rules you must comply with
When a team commits an offense
named a foul
before the game can commence
A small advantage has to be given
to the otherside
Rule number five
A freekick
is given after a foul
Sometimes awarded after
unnecessary dives
Rule number six
When you are shown a card that is yellow
Its time for your temper to mellow
or you will get the referee quite mad
and he will dismiss you with a red card
Rule number seven
A penality is like heaven
It is awarded
when a player breaks the rule
maybe by using his hand as a tool
to play the ball inside the penalty box
its time for him to go back to school
Rule number eight
A thrownin
Is when the ball is kicked out of the field
It's one of footballs favorite sins
Rule number nine
Offside is
When you are the only one running
alone to score a winning goal
you must hesitate
till you see a single soul
Rule number ten
A game lasts
for ninety minutes
You are beat
When your team has less goals than the other
That is when you must admit defeat
Rule number eleven
when your team is losing
you have to sing something amusing
saying
All we want is a goal
While we are dressed in coloured charcoal
Now my little boy
I said
These are the eleven rules of football
lets go and practise inside the sports hall
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Find My Way
I don't know how to let you go
I've given to you all of me.
All that will ever be,
We share the same heart and soul
I want you to believe in me
See through my eyes and you will know
I'll take my chance that you will come home to me
Even if it takes some time for you to work it out
I'll be there.
I've still got a ways to go,
So far away from home.
Inside I always knew,
I'd Find My Way to you.
I've still got a ways to go,
So far away from home.
Inside I always knew,
I'd Find My Way to you.
If I could be everything you want
If I could change everything that I have done
Only you'd know where I have gone
I wanna prove I am worthy to be called yours
I need you more than I ever have
And I don't wanna stay, try to find me if you can
If I get lost along the way, please don't forget me
Know that I'll be here.
I've still got a ways to go,
So far away from home.
Inside I always knew,
I'd Find My Way to you.
I've still got a ways to go,
So far away from home.
Inside I always knew,
I'd Find My Way to you.
I'll be there, I'll be there
I'll be there, I'll be there
I'll be there, I'll be there
I'll be there, I'll be there
I've still got a ways to go,
So far away from home.
Inside I always knew,
I'd Find My Way to you.
I've still got a ways to go,
So far away from home.
Inside I always knew,
I'd Find My Way to you.
I'll be there, I'll be there
I'll be there, I'll be there
I'll be there, I'll be there
I'll be there, I'll be there
I'll Find My Way to you
song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Brief Autobiography
I ran a few road races in the colours of Millstreet
But I was never much of an athlete
One could say I just took part in the race
And I always finished well out of a place.
I had a go at Soccer and Gaelic football
But at those I wasn't any good at all
Just one more hack who never made the grade
Good players like poets are born they cannot be made.
And now I am one who pens doggerel
Though of any literary success sadly I cannot tell
And though years ago I did daydream of fame
In the literary World just one more unknown name.
And though success I cannot claim to know
At least at some things I did have a go
'Tis not true that we can be what we choose
For one to win so many have to lose.
A brief Autobiography in slip-shod rhyme
Of one three decades beyond his physical prime
and very close now to his use by date
And without any success to celebrate.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Woman Five Doors Down
The woman five doors down tells me her son Ted is the best player in the school football team
And that one day he will play in an A.F.L. Grand Final and that more than once of late she's had this dream
Of watching him receive the Coleman medal for best on ground on football's biggest day
Watched by well over ninety thousand people who cheer him on with a loud hip hooray.
But locals who know of football and watched Ted play say he will never play at the top grade
That he won't go down Swanston Street in the back of a lorry
to loud applause in the Grand Final Parade
They say his mother greatly over rates him and that in his team he's just an average player
And that not one in his club will play A.F.L. football with good under age players they do not compare
Ted's mother believes her son will be a football hero and she seemed so convinced that she convinced me
But others who have seen him play say different and with her opinions they do not agree
They say that she will end up disappointed that her dreams for her son will not come true
That he won't make a career out of football another line of work he must pursue.
The woman five doors down tells me her son Ted will one day play in the famed M.C.G.
And be the hero of a great Grand Final in a game that will go down in history
And though others seem to think that she's only dreaming I hope her son will be a football great
And that she will applaud him in the Grand Final and the football fans his name will celebrate.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have A Woman Inside My Soul
I have a woman inside my soul,
Her eyes sombre and sad.
She waves her hand to try to reach me,
But I cant hear what she says.
I wish I knew what she says,
I wish I knew what she wants,
I wish I knew what she says to me,
I wish I knew what she means to me.
I see an asphalt road inside my soul,
Its pale even in a warm summers day.
It stretches into the mist and calls me,
But I dont know what it takes.
I wish I knew what it takes, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it gives, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it says to me, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it means to me. (I wish I knew)
I see a tombstone inside my soul,
Its old and mossy, covered in dead leaves.
It stands with an engraving on it surface,
But I dont know what it reads.
I wish I knew what it reads, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it says, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it says to me, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it means to me. (I wish I knew)
(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, hey)
I feel snow covering inside my soul,
Its hard and shining in shades of grey.
No footsteps ever made their marks,
And I dont know when it melts.
I wish I knew when it melts, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew when it happens, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew if it happens at all, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it means to me. (I wish I knew)
I hear a stream running inside my soul,
Its cold and clear and carries a tune.
But I dont know what it sings and tells,
I dont know where it goes.
I wish I knew what it sings,
I wish I knew where it goes,
I wish I knew what it sings, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew where it goes, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it sings. (I wish I knew)
(I wish I knew)
(I wish I knew) (yeah!)
(I wish I knew)
(I wish I knew)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Dreamt
I dreamt that the LORD came to me
And a message he did give me.
In this dream:
I came upon the face of the LORD
Long before I was born.
He came and touched my soul
And made me completely whole.
He said: you are going down to earth
To this woman who will give you birth
She will show you all there is to know in life
who will show You how to bear the struggles and strife.
there is so much that you must learn
And many a life you must turn.
There are so many people who have gone astray
I need you to show the way.
Your mothers love will strengthen you every day
It’s a beautiful price that you will pay.
Strength from above and strength from below
We’ll show you the way you have to go.
She has prayed for you for many a year
Now it’s time for your love to share.
The love that she gives to you
Will help to see you through,
Open your heart to all that are around
They will come to you in leaps and bounds.
You will have a purity that every person
Will feel and see, this is the way that it must be.
In this dream I saw myself learning the bible
Although I had not opened up one in quite a while.
I started to read the stories of his life
And the miracles he created, and lives that
Were turned around that were devastated.
Then I awoke and I felt empty inside
Tears rolling down my cheeks that I tried to hide.
I knew that it was a dream and that it could never
Happen to me, for it was something that I could not see.
And although I can’t recall the features of his face
FAITH, LOVE, HOPE, in me he did place.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Football Farce
Football managers and players should hang their heads in shame,
For what they've done to our traditional football game.
Now sportsmen in the game are a dying breed,
with managers and players getting rich with greed.
Sportsmen! They are not, for they will cheat and connive,
winning free kicks and penalties by taking a dive.
Pushing, pulling and shirts being torn,
Punching and swearing are now the norm.
After a night on drugs and all night boozing,
players get violent if their team is loosing.
The managers aren't any better when staring at defeat,
encouraging players to go out there and cheat.
If the players do wrong and it's plain to see,
the managers will argue and blame the referee.
And now referees are getting in on this shameful act,
with the top premier clubs they've now formed a pact.
If the top club is loosing, then with the last kick of the ball,
the referee gives them a penalty for no good reason at all.
If that doesn't help they commit another dreadful crime,
by giving them another chance by adding on extra time.
The F.A. watches these games and don't seem to mind,
What's up with them? are they totally blind?
The F.A. should now hang their heads in shame,
for they have let money and greed ruin our football game.
That's why I have finally decided to call it a day,
Football ain't getting anymore of my hard earnt pay.
By
Alan Weston
© Copyright Reserved 2007
poem by Alan Weston
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Daughter of Death
I was born
Born to the blood of angels
Born through the veil of a storm
Born without love inside of me
Born with a need to perform
Born out of vengence
Born out of scorn
Born out of hatred
out of love torn
Born with a mission
Born with a drive
Born with a need
with a need to sruvive.
Now it's time to show you what i'm really about
no more pretentions;
No more frothing at the mouth
there's no use of hiding
all my sins deep inside
I'll wear them on my shoulder like a badge of pride
Cuz i'm the daughter of death
from my very first breath
i'm the daughter of death
blood red as macbeth
living a filthy mess
i'm a daughter of death
just a daughter of death
I was
Raised from buring ashes
Raised with tragic crime
Raised from cries of chaos
Raised on borrowed time
Raised by the darkness
Rasied by the night
Raised by the claws of fright
Raised to be hated
Riased to be loved
Riased to be doomed
By the powers above
poem by Brittany Cook
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Football - The most beautiful game
After stepping into the field
there is no way out
even before you start the game
you hear the fans shout
The players then sings their anthem
its football......
the most beautiful game.....
And when the whistle blows
the crowd starts their roar
in the 90 tensed minutes
the players got to score
Football is friendly only in name
because friendliness is not meant for football....
the most beautiful game....
So when the hard tackles go in
and injured fellow goes out
the crowd becomes furious
and starts to shout
Even after breaking one's leg
there seems to be no shame
because its football....
the most beautiful game....
Questions About Football
why are there games only on Mondays and Sundays?
where do the pro teams get all the money to pay the players?
can the jerseys be more creative?
are the player’s families mad that they have to play on holidays like Thanksgiving?
are there really dead bodies under Tennessee’s football field?
is Brady the best QB in the NFL right now?
how is Ray Lewis so hard-hitting?
do you want to be in the pro’s some day?
would you want to be tackled by Ray Lewis?
it is the end of the playoffs, what will the NFL do now?
why is Favre still playing?
why are high school football ref’s so bad?
can’t we afford descent ones?
poem by Sawyer Rothmann
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Dedicated To My Mom
It didn’t hurt when, I failed my freshman year
I knew that in a way I had to so our family can stay together
It didn’t hurt when I had to go live with my dad
I knew it was best and I would be able to with you again
It didn’t hurt when I stayed with dad almost over a year,
I knew what we had to fix would take more time
It didn’t hurt when I started living with you,
I knew that our lives are going to change forever.
It didn’t hurt went I went to your graduation for life works.
I was proud to see you clean and full of life.
Tears were shed,
Feelings were shared,
Stories were told,
Hugs were given,
And lives were changed.
I knew our lives were going to be different,
As long as I have you there to guide me along the way,
I know I will succeed.
This is for you mom for doing great,
For getting what you had to get done,
Achieved.
I love you,
And am proud to be your daughter,
So I wanted to show it to you.
So this is for you.
Mom,
Seeing you graduate from your classes inspired me,
I know now that,
If you stick to something you can
Conquer it.
I got to see you graduate and now you can see me.
So this is for you,
Mom.
-Michelle Tricarico
poem by Michelle Tricarico
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In The Local Football Oval
In the floodlight lit football oval each weeknight after tea
I hear the young men shouting as they train diligently
As their coach puts them through their training drills their exuberance I hear
They sprint about in the chill night air in the coldest time of year.
Some of the young players under twenty they have their dreams of fame
That they yet may become famous in Australia's only indigenous game
To play in an Australian Football League Grand final would be a dream come true
A dream that's dreamt by many and realized by only a few.
In the well lit football oval they kick ball and sprint around
And in their endeavour to become match fit they cover miles of ground
And they perform push ups and pull ups and natural muscle in this way they gain
For one cannot expect sporting success if for success you do not train.
In the local football oval where dreams are born and die
The shoutings of the young men echoes to the starry sky
In the chill evening air of late Autumn you hear them cheer and shout
As they race through the oval and chase the ball about.
I hear them every evening from six thirty till after eight
In the local football oval five hundred metres from my front gate
The town's young budding football stars not quite yet in their prime
And they dream of sporting greatness that will withstand the test of time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Conversion
Tall, fit and strong
the player stands.
Waiting.
The stat#dium, like
a grand cathedral,
hushed, heads bowed.
Other players wait and look,
a sacramental moment.
With his heel he makes
a space, . as meditation.
Then pacing back he waits,
around he looks,
the silent prayer is made,
the crowds are dazzled,
dazed.
And then.
He moves and kick lifts
the oval ball
over it goes.
Amen is said in cheers.
The colored vestments raised,
and unity is done
in public prayer.
The priest,
is carried,
cheered around the aisles,
and fellow priests smiles,
satisfaction has ben gained
the previous losses
no longer ordained.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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A Ritual of Victory
Out on the playing arena long about now,
Two teams are competing as if they are on trial.
Cheerleaders are entertaining with a new style,
Holding the attention of the crowd for a while.
The fans are cheering as loud as they can.
The players are inspired by the music of the band.
The scoreboard lights seem to blink at will,
The victor's final score is bright and still.
Shortly after the game, they'll all come in,
The players tuckered out, the coach with a grin.
Proud of their victory, they'll scarcely wait,
Specially if the post game ceremony is late.
It may be football or soccer or any other game,
A ritual of victory is basically the same.
The players huddle together and in unison say grace.
Wonder who is standing in my old place.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Mr. Abraham Abramovitch
Mr. Abraham Abramovitch
Was very very rich
He bought a club called Chelsea
Who play football on a pitch
He purchased many players
Who were good at playing football
Then one day he just got bored with it
And didn't mind at all.
poem by David Keig
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On The Passing Of Dave Sheehan
Dave Sheehan worked for the Cork County Council and I'd known him since I was a Primary school going boy
A gentle soul one who kept a low profile and one might say he would not harm a fly
All those he came in contact with seemed to like him and a bad word of him not one had to say
For a big family a good bread winner and he worked hard till his retirement day.
One of the founder members of the Slanan Rovers a Gaelic Football Club in the Parish of Millstreet
When Slanan won the day he felt so happy though he was one who too smiled in defeat
The Slanan Rovers as a Club now defunct but nothing lasts for forever so they say
Perhaps the Club lost out to emigration the migrant boats took the young men away.
I last spoke to Dave Sheehan in the mid eighties and that's going back some two decades ago
In mid November in the Town of Millstreet the weather it was cold enough to snow
We talked about the birth of Slanan Rovers in Cloghoula where the Finnow waters flow
He and Neil Lehane and Danny Healy and Frank Riordan founder members from their ideas a Football Club did grow.
From the green country side around Cloghoula the young men they went off to live elsewhere
And the Slanan Rovers Club for lack of numbers was quick to founder into disrepair
The older players had been getting older and the young men had their own dreams to pursue
And another Gaelic Club went from Duhallow that without players the Club won't survive seems so true.
Dave Sheehan from Carrigacooleen gone forever in quiet old St Mary's he now lay
But in Duhallow he won't be forgotten and his soul will live for forever and a day
A gentleman and liked by all who knew him in life he never made an enemy
And sad to think that when I return to Millstreet that he is one I never more will see.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Often there are players who have only football as a way of expressing themselves and never develop other interests. And when they no longer play football, they no longer do anything; they no longer exist, or rather they have the sensation of no longer existing.
quote by Eric Cantona
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young David The Under Fourteen
With the local football club he plays under fourteen
In their football colours the black, brown and green
He dreams in the A F L he will star one day
Against Australia's finest he will be picked to play.
Everytime I see young David he's with the egg shaped ball
Playing by himself or with other boys in the park for his age he is tall
His dream is to play as number one ruckman for his favourite team Geelong
Enjoying a great victory as he sings the Club song.
Most boys of his age have a wish or a dream
To win a gold medal or play with a top football team
But not all dreams do come true everyone can't know fame
Still it is nice to dream of great things just the same.
He is the top ruckboy in his football team
And as a player of promise he knows local esteem
But few good juvenile players into great players grow
And young David he still has a long way to go.
poem by Francis Duggan
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