A father who just lost his only son
' This is based on a true story that I read when I was a boy and a die
hard fan of football'
'What can be in a father's mind after he left his only son in a
burning ghat
at the bank of the sacred Ganges river? '
He took the ashes in a pot and wiped all the tears in his eyes
For the grief was too pensive for him to cry
any more
He once thought to give his life into that lonely river
To mingle with the soul of his son
His only son!
At that moment someone whisper'd in his ears
'Today is the IFA cup final betwixt East Bengal and Mohun Bagan'
A game of football that he loved since he was a boy
Like his only boy!
He wiped his last tear from his face
A feverish wish dragged him to Eden Gardens
He shouted the most
Spray'd all the ashes over the victorious players' heads
B'coz his own team had own!
He came back happy as a man
Who lost his only son!
Copyright: Shamik Bose 2009
poem by Shamik Bose
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Mountain's grief
Have I ever wept on a mountain's grief?
The sadness so profound, yet so majestic
That thy strongest heart bore since thou wert born
What is so immortal in a grief that finds a spring to express?
Just a solace, an easing out of a pine
The greatest grief in this world
is sculptured on you
So thou stands still, watching forever
Whilst the rest of the world weep
So the river floats on God's tears
Whilst He mourns on thy grief
So the birds sing in melody
Whilst thy heart burns in pain
So the wild rains thunder
Whilst the saddest quake in your heart erupts
In a wave around all thy moist rocks
Copyright: Shamik Bose 2009
poem by Shamik Bose
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Tis Football
'Tis football is the big World game of today
Grid Iron the big game of the U S of A,
Rugby League, Rugby Union and Aussie Rules Football
And soccer the biggest World game of them all
Gaelic Football a field game the Irish do play
Football in it's many codes the big World game of today
Football supporters Worldwide their team and their club colours wear
And in International games in their National colours they even dye their hair
Some men love their football team as much as their parents, children or wives
Yes football is one of the great loves of their lives
When their team does win the club song they do sing
But a loss to their weekend great sadness does bring
All over the World many codes of football
And to each their own code the best game of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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That Ferocious River
That ferocious river scavenging this earth
Brutal and merciless, her hunger obnoxious
Turning muds incessant,
fierce flowing waters;
Blistering blows unforgiven from her birth
That ferocious river scavenging this earth
That anger violent in the sound of fountain,
precipitous from a violent height, grey and abandoned,
in the mist of a cloud's hey,
amidst phosphorous drops of ray,
reverberates in angst gay,
bursts now in thousands foams,
like a cracker's joys in bludgeons
That ferocious river scavenging this earth
copyright: shamik bose 2009
poem by Shamik Bose
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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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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
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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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Suppose Football Does Serve A Purpose
Suppose football does serve a purpose some males do need other interests in their lives
Than working or drinking of alcohol or arguing with or making love to their girl friends or wives
On saturday they go to the football to cheer on their team win or lose
'Tis better for them than going to the local and wasting their money on the booze
At least watching football they won't be losing brain cells as they do when they are on the grog
And next day feeling nauseated and hung over and as sick as a very sick dog
Their partners and wives happy to see them going to the football for to support their football club
They feel that for them it is far better than guzzling down grog at the pub
In football there can be disappointments when your team does not win the game
But for every winner there is a loser and to lose should never be a shame
There's more to life than grog and work and women there is that marvellous game known as football
To you and many others 'tis a passion and your team to you is the greatest team of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The AFL Football
He was exactly like his famous Dad
When he was all stitched up
Of this fact he was very glad
His father had a special role in the 2005 premiership cup
Don't laugh when I tell you
This story is very true
He was a football; Aussie made
With anyone else, he wouldn't ever trade
Of his father he was very proud
Cheer cheer roared the crowd
It was a moment that would certainly go
Down in sporting history; this for sure he did know
Leo Barry; what a mark indeed
All the Sydney Swans fans agreed
The sea of red and white
What a glorious sight
He only wished that he could have been there
With him, all of his special memories; his Dad always did share
In a game a football is an important part
Of it all; this is the heart
Without a football, there'd be no game
Which of course would be a crying shame
Thousands of people travel to the A N Z Stadium or S C Ground
To see a football thrown or kicked around
Everyone gets excited to see
The game being played passionately
The moment that is above the rest
Is when Adam Goodes passes every test
To kick the winning goal
He plays with his heart and soul
The football's father at last did retire
To always be like him; was his son's desire
AFL is at the top of every sports fan's game list
Never ever to be missed
poem by Rose Angel H
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Big Mal
This saturday his team were defeated and after the game in the pub
Big Mal was not in the mood for talking or singing the anthem of his club
Beaten by a point in a thriller but he does not take pride in an honourable defeat
To him victory only matter and winning to him always sweet.
Big Mal he has never played football though football plays a huge part in his life
The football team he supports to him as important as his young son or his beautiful wife
When his team as he calls them win he feels happy but losses he finds hard to take
But after each win he feels happy what a difference a victory can make.
Big Mal is a likeable fellow and so much about him to like
He does not drive his car when he's drinking he cycles to and from the pub on his pushbike
He says I need my driver's licence for work and at the weekend to watch my team play
My wife and son and my football team to me most important he say.
This saturday his team were the losers and Big Mal not happy at all
He feels sad on such an occasion and he never talks of football
But he has next weekend to look forward to and next saturday and sunday night
A win in the pub he may be celebrating and laughing aloud in delight.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I'm A Fan
It’s football season again
I hope my team does well this year
Football season again
I’m a fan
It’s football season again
Spread that ball across the field
Football season again
I’m a fan
Through the cold and the rain
I’ll be there at the game
A voice screaming to be heard
I’ll cry sometimes, sometimes I’ll smile
As my voice echoes through the crowd
I’m a fan, I’m a fan, I’m a fan
It’s football season again
I hope my team does well this year
Football season again
I’m a fan
It’s football season again
Tackle hard and play it fair
Football season again
I’m a fan
And at the end of the year
We’ll be dressed in the gear
As they turn to salute the crowd
And we’ll stand with pride
‘Cause they’re our side
And we’ll sing their praises loud
We’re the fans, We’re the fans, We’re the fans
Copyright Colin Coplin 2004 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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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....
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
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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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Three Boys On their Bicycles
Along the quiet back streets pedalling up and down
Three boys on their bicycles in the old country town
The prime years of their lives a decade ahead
The future belong to the youth as has often been said
The magpie on a street tree is fluting his song
As three boys on their bicycles pedal along
Chatting of football stars and the fortunes of their favourite football team
To be great football players they do often daydream
With their football boots slung across the handlebars to the football oval bound
'Tis every young players dream for to be best on ground
At the famed M C G on Grand Final Day
Though that for them over a decade away
Full of young ambition and dreams of renown
They pedal along the back streets of the town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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I'm On The Football Team
Coach says I'm real good...Best kid in the neighbourhood.
Looks like I've got a future ahead of me.
Starting quarterback, number 13. Mom and Dad are so proud of me.
I'm down with the cool kids, oh yeah.
They know I'm cool, the chicks dig me, and it's okay.
I get replaced, but it's alright, 'cause they all know...I'm on the football team.
Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na
I'm on the football team. (x2)
I'm getting chicks left and right. They're lined up for Saturday night.
Just to go down on me, oh yeah.
And when I walk down the hall, all of the nerds and geeks fall,
down on their knees and worship me.
They know I'm cool, the chicks dig me, and it's okay.
I get replaced, but it's alright, 'cause they all know...I'm on the football team.
Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na
I'm on the football team. (x4)
Hey dad guess what!
What's that son?
I'm on the football team.
Well jimminy in the buckhole.
Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na
I'm on the football team. (x4)
song performed by by All American Rejects
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Given Is Enough To Last Lifetimes
love gone is smoke lost in the wind
she is gone now the one who wiped
your tears away from childhood faces
she saw the smiles on your face the tears
she saw the laughter on your face the pain
she heard the ripple of your voice the sobs
she saw the beauty in your eyes the fears
she kissed every tear from young checks
wiped every tear that dared form in your eyes
she was your mother her love is ever with us
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Big match tomorrow
Really big game on Saturday
playing a team at the top
told my mates to be there
let the women go to the shops.
The club is having a bad season
losing more games than we win
so we need to get really behind them
and they need to play out of their skin.
Being at the bottom is depressing
that's why fans are staying away
but we love our football club
that's why we'll be there on Saturday.
The away fans will be full of themselves
and to them it will be a great day out
because their team will be favourites
and they'll think it will be easy no doubt.
So we'll make lots of noise and never shut up
and keep on singing till our throats are sore
because that's what a true football fan does
they keep on going even when the team is poor.
So I'll keep my fingers crossed that we win
if we do I'll be really happy on Saturday night
not only because my team was victorious
but I'll be leaving the pub as high as a kite!
poem by Kevin Halls
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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
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A poem for Football lovers
Football can make you cry
it can also bring you joy
I've played and watched it
as a man and a small boy.
Football has great players
like the one and only Messi
the Argentinian is a genius
I wished he played for Coventry.
Football is the favourite sport
no other game comes anywhere near
in the U.K.it's the number one pastime
just beating fishing and drinking beer.
Football though can be an addiction
it can be on your mind all of the day
your thinking about goals, shots, and saves,
and even talking about it to God when you pray.
So long may Football be played on our planet
even though it has trouble along the way
but just think if there was no Football at all
us fans would have nothing to do on a Saturday!
poem by Kevin Halls
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