En.Citatepedia^®.ro

0004 Oxymoron

You know the type - the word's just perfect for him:
built like an ox, brain like a moron.
shaved head, one ear-ring, bull neck,
gold chain, tattoos,
black gym-pumped T shirt
(strange to think that thirty years ago
that would mark him a, er, Judy Garland fan..)
or football shirt on match days,
jeans, trainers
for a quick getaway between the blood and the pig-van,
and sharp eyes in an impassive face
as if one eye's always on the lookout for his mates
and the other for the other lot
so don't catch his eye, OK?

a 'football supporter';
now that's a real
oxymoron.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You May Know A Lot About Your Favourite Game

You may know a lot about your favourite game
And from your commentaries and writings on it you know of wealth and fame
But there's more to life than talking of and writing of football
And about other things you seem to know little at all
By the followers of football your type are well known
And they look up to you as one in a class of your own
They well may be happy your praises to sing
For football to them is an important thing
But by other than me it has been said before
That football is just a game that and little more
For many from life's cares a brief getaway
To cheer on their team in the game of the day
And you football writer and commentator and sporting celebrity
You may seem enlightened to many but not so to me.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A New Football Season

The new football season is here once again
fans hoping for a winning campaign ahead
supporters will be proudly wearing their colours
in grounds you'll see Blue, White, Black, and Red.
But the Olympics will be a tough act to follow
as it's been the best one for so many years
all the athletes gave it one hundred per cent
giving it lots of blood, sweat, and tears.
Football was once known as a working class game
until alas money reared it's ugly head
now players earn huge amounts of cash
and it's become a sport of affluence instead.
But when you love football it's in the blood
even though it's changed so much over the years
but there's just something about a matchday
the banter, watching a game, and having some beers.
So bring on the opening match of the new season
and I hope I leave with a big smile on my face
but a football campaign is tough and very long
so I'm fit for a marathon and not a sprint race!

poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is The Football Season

This is the football Season it is that time of year
When men in the pub talk football as they enjoy their beer
And look forward to September when one club will fly the winner's flag
The team that wins the Premiership gives their fans the right to brag.

Their wives nicknamed the footy widows their husbands at the football club
Or after work talking football with their mates down at the local pub
They take football so seriously 'tis their passion in life
The footy fan loves his football club as much as his children or his wife.

And if their team lose at the weekend they feel and look so sad
What's known as football addiction they seem to have it bad
They feel sad for their football team and the chance of four premiership points gone
But they cheer up and look forward to next weekend's game as the working week wears on.

This is the football Season football has gone to their head
And their football scarves and beanies they even wear to bed
About their team they feel so passionate as if to them it did belong
And 'tis with delight and pride in victory that they sing the club song.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Untitled :Rosy Mirror

Rosy mirror: an ugly image

That appears in the black background,

Blood weeps from broken eyes

Blaspheming plays with dead snakes.

Snow runs through the staring shirt

Purple over the black face,

That breaks in heavy pieces

From planets, deceased and strange.

A spider appears in the black background

Lust, your countenance deceased and strange.

Blood runs through the staring shirt

Snow weeps from broken eyes.

poem by Georg Trakl
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A Woman, The Oranje And The 2010 World Cup

In a bar in Amsterdam,
I realise how football consumes the soul.
Did I care yesterday whether there had been changes to the team?
Or whether one particular player was match fit?
No.
But, today I am swept along,
I feel the electricity in the air,
The hoping, the waiting, the tension,
The tangible excitement as the team walks out.
I grasp the momentary pride as the national anthem plays
And feel the lump in my throat as I see players join in and sing along.
I’m not even Dutch.
But, I’ve bought the shirt.
Then, as the game progresses I feel the air coarse back and forth,
As each spectator gasps, oohs and ahhs when free kicks go astray and shots on goal are deflected.
I watch fingers twitch, hands wring, and nails being bitten - all in the name of football.
Football, the beautiful game.
Football, the life giving ether that unites a nation and makes busses late.
Soon a hush descends,
As a player (who I don’t know the name of) “storms” his way through to the centre,
And slides the ball neatly under the goalkeeper.
Goal! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Time stops.
In this moment there is no war, no hunger, no pain, no hate in the world,
God is alive and he wears a number 11 shirt.

poem by Teedy Dawn
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Football A Way Of Life

Being a football fan is a way of life
it is constantly on one's mind
your thinking about the next match
while going about the daily grind.
Your talking about great goals
and a brilliant player from the past
telling anyone who's listening
that he was skilful and he was fast.
Your living and breathing football
you dream of it in your sleep
even though the team you support
can make you angry and make you weep.
You meet up with fellow football fans
in the pub before the big match
one group of like minded people
talking about football over pints and a batch.
Football on a Saturday is all that matters
nothing else can stand in it's way
all of life's worries are put on hold
while the football fan watches his team play.

poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Jimmy's First Football Match

Jimmy just couldn't sleep
he was too excited for that
he hadn't felt like this
since he stroked a Meerkat.
His mother said as a treat
for being such a good lad
he could go to the football
on Saturday with his Dad.
His nan knitted him a scarf
in the colours of the team
and on the morning of the match
he was so happy he could scream.
So the big day had arrived
and off he went to the match
he sat with his dad in the stands
with a cup of tea and a batch.
This was Jimmy's first game
as he was only just seven
but sitting there with his Dad
he was in football heaven.
The match was brilliant
Jimmy's team scored four
and if it wasn't for their keeper
it would have been a lot more.
Jimmy's world changed that day
football was to become his life
as an adult it cost him a lot
eventually his long suffering wife.
So let this serve as a warning
football can be bad for your boy
so instead of taking him to a match
take him fishing or buy him a toy!

poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Football

I'm a football baby,
Rollin' round the field.
I've been passed and fumbled,
Till I don't know what I feel.
Everybody's the same,
They're all footballs too.
Setting up the big play
And trying to score.
I'm a football baby
In a football game
I'm a football baby
Run--kick
Life's a football game,
As every chump and champ knows.
We don't touch, we collide,
Till we're worn out inside.
We're kicking each other,
Right where it hurts,
Setting up the big play,
And trying to score.
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
Block--pass
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
Run---kick---hit---goal .

song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Know The Game Of Life

A rich man built up a stadium,
In a ground to play every game.
On the day of inauguration,
There was a big congregation.

It was a show of football match
A pleasure for them to watch
Both the teams played well
Kicking forward the football.

The rich man's father,
An illiterate old villager,
Who was the chief guest
Kept his face in utter disgust.

At the end he asked his son
Why each player wasn't given
A ball each to avoid their run
Between goals for that ball one?

A sorry figure, his son kept
At his father, a man ignorant
Of the rules of the game,
What a shame to his name?

Yes, knowledge is essential
For anyone to enjoy the thrill
Lest, in the game of life, he will
Be like a two legged bull.

poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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The Football Fan

They love their football team
their loyalty is never in doubt
they rarely ever miss a match
from the stands they scream and shout.
Even when the teams playing poor
and their favourite player is off key
that will never stop them from going
as the ground is where they want to be.
Football is always on their minds
they think about it night and day
non football fans think they must be crazy
watching men kicking a ball home and away.
Relationships can become strained and tense
as football takes the leading role
partners can become irritable and even jealous
when the fan talks for hours about a wonder goal.
The fan even dreams of football in their sleep
shouting out and butting the pillow with their head
they jump up and down as if they've scored a goal
and kick their partner out of the bed.
Yes the football fan is a breed apart
slightly eccentric and a thick skinned soul
when all that matters to them in life
is seeing their favourite player score a winning goal!

poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Taking them out of the picture, so to speak, what football really is, the savagery, the core root of football, it doesn't change. It really puts the real in football.

quote by Lawrence Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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End Of The Season Drama

Nerves all jittery and fraught
fingernails chewed to the quick
this is the lot of the football fan
end of the season can make you sick.
One minute your team is staying up
the next you're on your way down
that smile you had on your face
is now replaced with a miserable frown.
With mobiles flashing up scores
and radios pressed to one's ear
it's either going to be bubbly Champagne
or crying into a pint of flat beer.
No time for a sun drenched vacation
Gardening, Fishing, or a spot of D.I.Y.
to the fan this is a really serious matter
but it's only football I can hear you cry.
Try saying that to the weary supporter
who follows his team home and away
when faced with the dreaded relegation
he drops to his knees to pray.
She's threatened to pack her bags again
and go back home to her Mum and Dad
but the thought of his beloved club
and relegation is what's really making him sad.
At last he knows his clubs fate
and their not going down after all
but when he hears that his lady has left him
he just shrugs and says she never liked football.

poem by Kevin Halls
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Let's talk Football

Some people like to talk about the weather
or what they watched the night before on T.V.
many go on and on about their holidays
while others chat about Cars or even Astrology.
But I like to talk about Football
as I've got lots of stories to share
like all the great players I've seen
and games when you just had to be there.
My late Father used to be just the same
as a child I'd take in every word he'd say
I'd sit and listen to him for hours and hours
then grab my ball and go out to play.
I often talk about Football in the pub
and even to strangers standing in a queue
'We won the F.A. Cup once you know,
beating Spurs by three goals to two.'
Once a Jehovah Witness knocked on my door
so I invited him in for a cup of tea
within an hour I converted him into a Football fan
he's now a massive supporter of Coventry City F.C.
My doctor reckoned I needed urgent help
and I saw a specialist that very day
but after talking to a Psychiatrist about Football
he now follows my team at home and away.
They say that talk is cheap
and that may very well be true
but I love talking about the Beautiful Game
because that's what I like to do!

poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Is Such A Joyful Winner

He is such a joyful winner but he does not like to lose
His favourite team won at the weekend so he went on the booze
He could not go to work today he feels fuzzy in the head
And nursing his hangover he lay at home in bed.

A football mad young person he surely loves the game
To be the Club's best barracker is his great claim to fame
At every goal his team kicks he whoops aloud in joy
The man in his late twenties at heart remains a boy.

His beanie in his Club Football colours to bed he even wear
His Club as important to him as his wife and children his type no longer rare
In the pub with his drinking mates their main topic is football
The great players and the winners and the losers of the weekend games they recall.

His team won at the weekend but he is in bed today
For too much celebrating his price he has to pay
He proudly wears the Club colours of his favourite football team
And every victory that they have good for his self esteem.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A New Flag is Declared

A new Flag is Declared
In the dusk of the night,
Under the watchful eyes of the guards and the guns.
Ill write a poem,
On your shirt.
A multihued shirt,
Coming from the torture chamber.
A shirt of cotton and blood.
A shirt of torment, torture and anguish.
Ill write a poem
On the midst of the night

In the milieu of red.
A poem,
A single word poem.
People will make it a flag,
Raised, full staff,
Written on it a poem,
A single word poem.
On the daybreak of Iran,
In the milieu of blue
The earth is given birth
To a new flag;
Written on it:
Freedom, a single word poem.

poem by Cyrus Mahan
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Son Of A New York Gun

Jack my friend, hes a busy man
Trying to hustle an easy buck instead of a good mans dollar
Oh jack my buddy hes so goddamn full of money
Workin for a funny company for his father
He got a black satin shirt best you could buy
And a big fat straw hat to match his white tie
And a shiny thirty-eight thatll look you straight in your eye
Jack miraculous he was a sure spectaculous
The son of a new york gun
Look out jack ...
He got a black satin shirt best you could buy
And a big fat straw hat to match his white tie
And a big twenty-two thatll make you do what he want
Jack miraculous he was a sure spectaculous
The son of a new york gun
Look out jack ... jack miraculous
The son of a new york gun
Look out jack

song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Nan wants a game!

My Nan just loves her football
she goes to games every week
but she wants to play as well
saying she's strong and in her peak.
But Nan your in your eighties
and your about six stone wet
you have got two dodgy knees
so how can you put a ball in the net.
Your eyes aren't as sharp these days
and you can't walk without your stick
your out of puff walking up your stairs
so a football you'd struggle to kick.
But she's bought herself a pair of boots
and a nice new shiny football kit
all she needs is a team to play for
as her doctor says she's ready and fit.
So keep an eye out for a white haired lady
the oldest footballer playing the game
she'll be easy to spot on the pitch
as she'll be the one with the Zimmer frame!

poem by Kevin Halls
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You Look Good In My Shirt

When you walked up behind me and covered my eyes
And whispered in my ear, guess who
I rattled off names like I really didnt know
But all along I knew it was you
And, the longer we talked, the more we laughed
And wondered why we didnt last
It had been a long time, but later last night
Baby, we caught up real fast
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
Thats right
You look good in my shirt
Well now Im not saying that we solved overnight
Every way that we went wrong
Oh, but what Im seeing Id sure love seeing
Every morning from now on
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
Cmon now
Aww thats right
Oh you look so fine
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
You look good in my shirt
You look good in my shirt

song performed by by Keith Urban
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Electro Shock Faders

Long black dress
Hawaian shirt
Kicking pair of trainers
Electro shock faders
Guiding your voice through your veins
Sick of all this working
Longing for a sinking
Long black dress
Hawaian shirt
Kicking pair of trainers
Electro shock faders
Guiding your voice through your veins
Sick of all this working
Longing for a sinking
Ship that rules the bottom of the sea
A bottle as a prison not really my idea
Of a perfect environment it makes you see
Everythings a blur
Do you know what I mean
Long black dress
Hawaian shirt
Kicking pair of trainers
Electro shock faders
Guiding your voice through your veins
Sick of all this working
Longing for a sinking
Ship that rules the bottom of the sea
A bottle as a prison not really my idea
Of a perfect environment it makes you see
Everythings a blur
Do you know what I mean

song performed by by Hooverphonic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Do You Love Football?

Why do you love football Kevin
what do you see in it?
why not watch another sport
like Rugby, Golf, or Cricket?
Well let me answer that my friend
and put your mind at rest
I love the beautiful game
because it's simply the best.
No other sport is as exciting
no other comes anywhere near
football has lots of passion
and can create a great atmosphere.
It is loved all around the world
most children kick a football
rich kids, and poor kids,
small kids, and some very tall.
Ask a lad what he wants to be?
a footballer I bet he will say
not a cyclist or a pole vaulter
a top swimmer no way!
A good football match is a real joy
that's why thousands go to every game
when you get goals and lots of action
the fans are so glad that they came.
So yes my friend I do love my football
it's the number one sport for me
so while your watching snooker and darts
I'll be cheering on my beloved Coventry.

poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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