Progress
Childern play football on the road
because on their play ground
their father built a mall
poem by Sallam Yassin
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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 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
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My Winning Hugs.
Oh how you have grown
So tall and beautiful
Marsha-Allah
I hug you
I kiss you
You ask me not to
My baby boy
At 11years old you will always be my baby boy
I’ve missed you
I want to hug you
Oh what am I to do
We play football
After every goal
You hug me
We won 10-6
I said you hugged me
You said
That’s different mom
You played the best football ever
Now I know
Play football
Play it well
To win those winning hugs
poem by mariam khan Farah Abdulahi
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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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Play To Play
Play to play
Not for home
Not for bed...
Play to
The ground...
Play with
Ball and the bat
OR run and play...
Live your body
Good for health
Have the nice...!
Twice the day
Morning and
Evening go to play...
That is secerat
Of your life
Understand
To try with
Play to play
Day by day....!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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To Alan O Connor A Young K.R.R. Fan
He was so young just fourteen years and he had one great dream
To play for Killarney Road Rovers the Millstreet soccer team
To play for Killarney Road Rovers and to prove himself a man
He loved the game, he loved his team and he was a Rovers fan.
But Alan did not get the chance to carve his own renown
In football field at Claraghatlea just west of Millstreet Town
For Rovers in the Kerry league he'll not line out to play
An angel met him going to school and carried him away..
He did not live to ripe old age to slow and fade and die
His span was brief so very brief like rose flower of July
He did not live to fulfil his dream for Rovers play football
God needed him in Paradise and God know best of all.
But Alan will be still around when Rovers come to play
His ghost will be there watching them in field at Claraghatlea
And Rovers fans will talk about their star who would have been
The lad an angel took from Millstreet Town when he was just fourteen.
poem by Francis Duggan
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To Play At Home
To Play At Home
In 1969 at 20 Arthur Street
near the football ground
a four year old boy
stands in front of the terraced house.
While the sun is shinning
bitter winds blow in gusts
through his clothes;
shadows of clouds
shoot across the road,
across paving slabs,
up red brick walls.
Cars of the sixties
park tightly on a match day
to backdropp roars
and distant cries from their owners
at significant moments,
while the Imps play at home,
just as he did.
My Sad Guitar (In Iraq)
When I play...my sad guitar,
With powered chords...of deep emotion.
I strum the strings...with such devotion,
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
When I play...my sad guitar,
In a bunker, built in the sand.
This war torn country, this desert land,
I miss playing...In a rock and roll band.
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
When I play...my sad guitar,
My memories play,
Deep in my mind,
I try to find-
Our... wedding... day!
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
When I play...my sad guitar,
I think of my Harley...My hot-rod car,
Wishing I was home,
With a beer in a bar.
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
poem by Philip Lore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Play At Home
To Play At Home
In 1969 at 20 arthur street
near the football ground
a four year old boy
stands in front of the terraced house.
While the sun is shinning
bitter winds blow in gusts
through his clothes;
shadows of clouds
shoot across the road,
across paving slabs,
up red brick walls.
Cars of the sixties
park tightly on a match day
to backdropp roars
and distant cries from their owners
at significant moments,
while the Imps play at home,
just as he did.
poem by Adrian Cox
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I'm a football guy at heart; maybe I should have played football for a living instead, because I play a lot of football videogames, I'm really into them.
quote by Jason Kidd
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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Another Football Season
Another Football Season has just commenced having said so just the same
A lot of hype and excitement about a field game
For many from their life problems a relief of sorts
Suppose that's why the establishments created sports.
Some things do seem to change little from year to year
Of football fans discussing football one often does hear
They talk of their Club as if the Club they did own
'Tis from people like them that Football Clubs are grown.
They talk of team ratings and player stats and of last weekend's best on ground
And of who their team are due to play in the next round
And the forward with a goal for the taking who kicked a behind
Next week with the seconds a place he may not find.
Another Football Season commencing the barracker's wife
She does feel neglected but then such is life
He knows about Football and the words of the Club song
And his heart to the Club it does surely belong.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Football Jock And The Cheerleader
Football jocks- they allow nothing to get in their way
Girls hearts they’d break every day.
What is a heart? But tissue and mass.
They’ll get over it, it will pass.
Life is a game and we play it to our best
If girls can’t cope then give it a rest.
Love is like football and it has
many tactics that we must learn
and along the way people get burned.
They tend to dropp their hearts
and it shatters on the ground
But someone will pick up the pieces
Whatever could be found.
We are the jocks with one goal in mind
“ to win” every turn and every time.
We are the cheerleaders of the team
We get the fans to jump and scream.
We give you guys moral support
With out us your fans would abort.
You think because you’re football jocks
That all the women s clocks must stop.
Well! We have a surprise for you
Without us you wouldn’t know what to do.
As for our hearts shattering on the ground
My friend! You better turn and look around.
You see! LOVE IS NOT! A football game
And no heart remains the same
You are about to get your dues
For we know exactly what to do.
You may be great on the football field
But our hearts, you will not steal.
You can not get in our heads
nor can you get us in your beds.
poem by Louis Rams
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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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The only football players in my time were fellows who really loved to play football. They were not in it for the money. There wasn't much money there. They would have played football for nothing.
quote by Red Grange
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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John Buckley
John Buckley lived in Mushera upon the higher ground
A quiet and decent person his nickname 'John The Pound'
For the Aubane Gaelic Football Club he played Gaelic Football
Back in the nineteen sixties as I can well recall.
He never harmed anyone lived in the honest way
And respect to his memory his friends and family pay
Perhaps in his early seventies and it does seem sad to say
That with the dead of Millstreet his remains forever lay.
In the famous Aubane colours some great games he did play
Till the years too crept up on him and time does tick away
A strong and sturdy fellow when he was in his prime
But we all do become victims of ageless father time.
He will never be seen on the high Mushera road by Mushera Hill again
But fond memories of the man he was in the minds of those who knew him will remain
One can only hope that from life his was not a painful release
He was a decent person and may he rest in peace.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Two Ways To Play
Somethin' crossed my mind again
You were in my eyes
It was somewhere out by Bombay
And I'm tellin' all those lies
I've been there and you've been there
And there ain't no mistake
We could take it anyway
But the one thing we can't fake
There's just two ways to play
Just two ways to play
And I don't want to stay
There's just two ways to play
And I'm gonna play it right, this time
Yeah
There's always the easy numbers
There's those hard ways too
There's those cheaters blunders
It's either one of two
But fortune telling's mezmorizing
In the game of chance
But rollin' dice ain't sympathizing
When you play romance
There's just two ways to play
Just two ways to play
And I don't want to stay
There's just two ways to play
I can't control the numbers
I can't control your sexy ways
I can't control my inner thunder
It makes me want????????
Two ways to play
There's Just two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
I'm gonna play it right this time
There's two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
Two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
And I don't want to stay
There's just two ways to play
song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Football Field
I am like the lion in the jungle
The most feared and dangerous animal
You cannot run from me and you cannot hide
Because when I'm in the jungle theirs nowhere to go
I am like your daily hit-man whenever I see you with
That football I have to take you out
Every game or practice I have nervousness running through
My body when this happen
I feel as if I am like a glass cup easy to break
So I have to clear my mind of everything I'm thinking about
Close my eyes and take a deep breath and take it all out because
I'm doing it as if it was my last play for my football career
Or maybe my last on earth because every play can be your last
I love this sport with all my heart but I'm just not going to
Lose my life or have a permanent injury from it
poem by Brandon Miller
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Poetry May Be Play
Poetry may be Play-
Play of words,
Play of feelings,
Play of thoughts
But the deepest poetry
Is not play.
Play is not the thing
When it comes to the deepest things-
They are beyond play
And perhaps even beyond Laughter-
Play is O.K.
But Poetry in its most holy and painful ways
Is beyond Play.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Bed Play
Bed is
Not play ground...
Play boy
Play the bed...
A cricket...
with out dresses
At young women...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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