A dying man requests for an extra time
Like in soccer when the two sides were tallied
Referee gives an extra time
Isn't it?
My invisible referee,
You dragged me to this unfair game
And you are taking me now without my concern.
Please blow your miraculous whistle,
At least we could have change our goals for a while.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Switching The Goal Posts
They are against those who oppose everything.
And those who oppose everything,
Are using their position to ensure there is opposition.
While those caught up in between teams,
Have begun to accuse the referee...
For not being more influential in getting both sides,
To play ball and follow the rules!
Instead of switching the goal posts around,
Each time a player gets closer to scoring points.
And anyone intelligent can see they have the best referee.
'Comeon you guys.
People have paid too high of a price,
To be expected to sit and take this much longer.
I think you all have lost sight,
As to why we have been selected to play this game.
If you don't play it my way...
Guess who ultimately suffers the consequences?
And don't look at me.
I am accustomed to being called vulgar names.
Turn around and look at the ones looking at you.
That blame game is about to change! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Biography Of football taken for Final Worldcup
I am a football,
Soccer is what the people of FIFA call.
Kicking me here and there,
Trying to play the match very fair.
I saw what Zidane did!
And then feeling shocked tried to hid.
Zidane gave Materazzi a header,
Which was like the short of Federer.
Materazzi felt he was in hell,
And then came the whistle from the referee like a bell.
Referee gave Zidane a red card,
Then Zidane sat outside the ground like a guard.
Because of this Italy won the world cup,
And the France players felt like dying in a tub!
source: self composed
[email protected]
poem by Sabari Saran
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A time out
Your time is out
Referee may not shout
He will raise only finger
You may cry foul with anger
You were very good at art
Tried to dupe everybody to look very smart
As the game moved on to an exciting finish
The chances for clear win stood to diminish
It was not the honest and real game
You were bound to be blamed
There was no visible ground to defend
You tried nothing to improve or mend
Certain rules are to be adhered to
This is principle and very true
If we flout it to our advantage
It may amount to derailment and sabotage
The balance sheet may be ready at the end
You may not be above to change your trend
You may ask for an extra time to repent
Alas! finger is raised without your consent
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Scarlet And Sheba
Scarlet wants to hold me, wearing just a red-veiled hat
Sheba's in the shadows waiting for her turn at bat
In the parlour where the lights are low
A vulture sister act, I watch their show
They're trying to kill me, want to pick my bones
Methodically, erotically
I just want your body, Sheba
I don't want your brain
Scarlet gets what's left of my remains
I just want your body, Sheba
You lock me up in chains
Scarlet, she can referee the game
Scarlet likes to scold me, showers me with all her love
Sheba's in a bad mood, sharpening her black fur glove
With blood and honey attitude
They'll never know my gratitude
I'm crossed with longitude and latitude
Upon my back... with a crack
I just want your body, Sheba
I don't want your brain
Scarlet gets what's left of my remains
I just want your body, Sheba
You lock me up in chains
Scarlet, she can referee the game
I just want your body, Sheba
I don't want your brain
Scarlet gets what's left of my remains
I just want your body, Sheba
You lock me up in chains
Scarlet, she can referee the game
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He loves soccer
He loves soccer.
Kicking soft and supple hearts.
He loves to dribble,
Who cares for penalties?
His referee being
His indomitable
Ego-defense mechanisms.
A veteran player -
He revels amidst
A ground full of personae,
One knocking the other.
He thought I was his soccer.
So he kicked and fucked -
Hard, hard, still harder.
The game over,
He kissed his trophy,
Congratulated himself,
And wished me -
Happy New Year.
---
poem by Vaiah Jones
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Tense And Nervous At The Match
Massive game today
butterflies in my stomach
can feel my heart beating
beads of sweat on my brow.
But I'm not even playing
I'm just a loyal supporter
but we need the win so much
a fan who loves his football club.
The referee has blown his whistle
our fans are singing and chanting
the away fans are singing as well
they need three points as much as us.
The game is swinging to and fro
they have hit the post and so have we
then with five minutes till half time
they are awarded a dodgy penalty.
Our keeper tries to put the taker off
he jumps up and down on his line
he strikes it hard to the goalies left
the keeper alas dives to his right instead.
One down at the interval it's off to the bar
us fans moaning about the dreadful decision
then after a pint it's back to the stands
to start cheering on our team once again.
We go on the attack right from the start
our striker bangs one on to their bar
then we get a bit of luck at last
the referee has given us a dodgy penalty.
There keeper jumps up and down on his line
but our taker stands with hands on hips
then cooly trots up and hits it to the right
there keeper dives down to his left.
One all now with ten minutes to go
us fans are going crazy getting behind the team
then we all end up hugging and leaping about
because our striker has smacked it in the net.
The ref blows his whistle it's the end of the game
we all stand and clap our beloved team off
it's off to the pub for a great night out
it feels so good when your team gets a win!
poem by Kevin Halls
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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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Fighting The Odds
It was a wet fall day.
Leaves falling off the trees as if they were helicopters landing on the ground.
I was on my way to me final soccer game of the season.
I was not sure if I would be playing or not because my temperature was 100 degrees.
My head felt like a 100 pound weight pushing me to the ground.
But I had to play because I had started every game in goal and I was just not able to let my team down on the undefeated season and the division title.
I was dizzy and felt like I was just been pushed around on a spinner at the local park. It was a feeling that I will never forget, it has been 5 years and I still remember this feeling.
The referee blew the whistle to show that the game was over after the 70 minutes of harsh play.
My team was as happy as winning a lottery!
After the game we took a team photo by the goal with everyone one holding up one finger to show that we are number one.
Everyone was as excited as can be because our team was not expected to do this well this season.
In the ending I had to have brain surgery because I had a rare sickness called encephalitis.
But it was worth playing in the rain playing a game I will never forget.
poem by Nick Jumic
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Soccer
I have always liked soccer
such a rough game
Such skills are required
And popluar
You must be strong
and fearless
long kicks to bring you closer
to achieving your goal
of making goals to win the game
heading and saving the ball
is important too
its all about a game called soccer
poem by BOBo ROBbY
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Holy Books
Life is a game; rules are laid.
It’s played without a referee.
Watching the game, one has to play.
No holy book is of any use.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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You don't notice the referee during the game unless he makes a bad call.
quote by Drew Curtis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Play Your Game
Must God love you?
Then you would leave so soon.
Must God save you?
Then you would reach Him so soon.
Let him to be a referee.
You play your game lively.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Let The Wind Blow
For the last eight years of my life
I was being cut with unsharpened knife
Now let the time come to end the strife.
Let the wind blow and whistle in my ears,
‘War is over and it’s time for peace.’
I never imagined it would go for this long
But I feel like I am lost in a thick fog
May now be the time to end all the wrong
Let the wind blow and whistle in my ears,
‘War is over and it’s time for peace.’
So far to forgiveness, so close to revenge
Difficult to control, very hard to manage
War is deadly evil, let there be a change.
Let the wind blow and whistle in my ears,
‘War is over and it’s time for peace.’
This is a wish of two citizens
Each from the sister enemies
Eritrea, Ethiopia, they should end the war
And people find the peace they’re longing for
Let the wind blow and whistle in my ears,
‘War is over and it’s time for peace.’
Lidia Yeibio.
12/5/06.
poem by Lidia Yeibio
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A Fair Sized Elevation
The Stadium was ready for a thrilling floodlit game,
All the Fans were there, eager to give acclaim.
Out ran the teams, rearing to play their part,
Along with the Referee, who was anxious to start.
When all were prepared, the exciting scene was set,
Each side were hoping for goals inside their net.
At half-time though, not one single man had scored,
Something that to both sides couldn’t be ignored.
Then a silence fell, and eyebrows began to twitch,
What was that mound there, in the centre of the pitch.
A heap of earth was growing at a very rapid rate,
And a fair sized elevation was seen to accumulate.
A black nose peeped out from the heart of the soil,
Sniffing the air after a lot of sweat and toil.
For Mr Mole had chosen a very prestigious patch,
‘Right bang’ in the middle of a football match,
Everyone thought this was really quite absurd,
And were utterly amazed at what had occurred.
But in the end, the whole vast arena had to laugh,
For wrapped around his neck was a football scarf.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Scottish Referee’s Bible of 1690
Football in Scotland,
is a religion on its own
When it involves
both Celtic and Rangers,
But how many times
are the Celtic to be crucified
By a referee
who is a Rangers supporter?
Does the Scottish Football Association
travel the country?
And recruit men from
the local Masonic Lodges,
For the referee’s bible of 1690,
is to prevent
Celtic from winning
any Old Firm matches.
Last Saturday’s match
was another fine example
Of the SFA’s faith
in Presbyterianism
As Thompson and Lennon,
both became victims,
To Stuart Dougal’s
biased refereeing.
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Facility, felicity!
Facility, felicity!
On demand;
Race, brace!
But, every story has two sides;
Like the two sides of the coin.
Due, undue!
She's lovely and, she wants you;
Pest, vest!
She's very attractive and, she needs you;
Due, sue!
Verification,
Innovative,
Bear, spear!
Complete,
So, write your letter today and post it tomorrow.
Free, referee!
Like a complex logic;
Art, heart!
Like a plug-in hybrid;
Refuge, refugee!
Fronds,
Routine,
In, sin!
Treading paths of darkness;
Wit, with!
On demand;
But, every story has two sides.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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We talked to the referees before the game; there's always new situations to adjust, for the refs and for us as well. Even on the ice, it's good for players to talk and interact with the referee.
quote by Peter Bondra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Cannot Whistle Now Like In My Younger Days?
['I 'll pour out my spirit upon all men
your sons and your daughters will prophesy;
your young men see visions,
and your old men will dream dreams.'
This is what I will do in the last days,
God says; Jesus would be handed over to you;
and you killed him, by letting sinful men nail him to the cross.]-The New Testament
When youth practise football in the ground
I just watch them sitting on this wooden bench.
I feel like an old Referee and they don't hear my
broken whistle even if I blow louder?
O I am a colour blind instead of the green flag
I wave the red but they don't mind
and play their own game.
I walk towards the goal post
Remember those days my strong kicks
Ball that flies through the eyes of the net
But now I entangle in the whole net
and no strength to loosen the knots?
I left home and my beloved wife says
'Don't worry I love you so much.'
'I love you too! ' I replied.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Soccer
Soccer is the game
My life
Soccer gives my fame
it gives my life
Soccer is what make me live
soccer is what makes me give
soccer is the start of it all
soccer is way better then the mall
poem by Courtney Sycowski
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(I Heard That) Lonesome Whistle
I was ridin' Number Nine,
Headin' south from Caroline.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
Got in trouble, had to roam,
Left my gal an' left my home.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
Just a kid, actin' smart,
I went and broke my darling's heart,
I guess I was too young to know.
They took me off the Georgia Main,
Locked me to a ball and chain.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
All alone I bear the shame,
I'm a number, not a name.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
All I do is set [sic] an' cry
When the evenin' train goes by.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
I'll be locked here in this cell
Till my body's just a shell
An' my hair turns whiter than snow.
I'll never see that gal of mine.
Lord, I'm in Georgia doin' time.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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