One Heartbeat
Blood, sweat, and tears
Sacrificed everyday
Even when they tell us
Man, there's no way!
You have to believe
When no one else will
Together as one
That's how we feel
No pain, No gain
We often hear
Lay it on the line
We have, No fear!
A family of many
We have become
Not just a number
As to some
We win as a team
And lose just the same
Not laying the heavy
On any one name
Zulu, Zulu
We huddle and breathe
From many chest
Comes, One Heartbeat
Cougar Football
Go Cougars!
poem by Lagaya Evans
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Related quotes
a Brave Boer boy
At Italeni the bushes come alive
and abound with a horde of Zulu’s,
of which the spears glitter
and some are at the peak
of a hillock
and others on the plane.
Blood and fat
are spread over their faces
and they are raging
and in a blood thirsty trance
and scream luring
and tipple with a ritteltit war dance
and clubs and shields,
are thrown into the air
while spears flash into the air.
In the cloudless blue sky
an eagle flies past screaming,
while Boer horsemen
are riding past with guns at the ready.
Father and son gallop next to each other
and the hoofs of the horses hang thundering,
as far as they go.
When the first Zulu’s are in striking distance
they fire at them
and the front warriors fall
and the rest turns about
and run into the bushes
and cliffs.
The commando breaks into smaller groups
and the fleeing Zulu impi
are followed
and Dirk rides side to side with his dad,
to help the Malan brothers
where they are trapped in the cliffs.
Suddenly a whole impi of murderously mad Zulu’s
are around them
and Piet Uys’s gun
is jammed
and he stops to fix it
and out of the air a spear falls
that penetrates him.
He tell his men to ride away
but Dirkie wants to stay
and he rides only a hundred steps away,
when he hears the war cry
of a lot of Zulu’s
that storm to his father.
Horse and son becomes one
and horse and son
burst galloping through the Zulu’s
and he shoots three down,
but he is murderously
speared from his horse
and one flintlock gun that breaks
cannot stop a horde of spears.
Father and son lies together
while a Zulu impi
dances with joy up and down
and in the bright blue sky
an Eagle screams while it passes
while death
embraces both men.
At times when a storm
rises over that long hillock
people hear horse hoofs
rushing over the earth
and a rifle that thunders,
while shadows
threaten and creep nearer
and the cry of an Eagle
sounds over the cliffs.
[Reference: The heroic story of Dirkie Uys. Impi=> a Zulu army.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Shaka The Zulu
Here he comes with his muscular
body, in his hands lay the symbol
of Africa the symbol that have sent
many great warriors six feet beneath.
The sound of his voice bring silence
among the bird of the sky.
Shaka the son of Zulu he believe that he
is a true son of Africa.In the battle field
with the great symbol of Africa in his hands
he believe that nobody can defeat him, his
peer believe that he is a god among the
living creature.
Shaka the Zulu he believe in the black power
with iron hands he rule the people of Zulu with
the help of the witch doctors he conquer the
Africa.The name Shaka bring fear in the camp
of the white.
poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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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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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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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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Nobodys Listening
Yo. peep the style and the kids checkin for it
The number one question is how could you ignore it
And drop right back in the cut
Over basement tracks with rap sack
Got you back in the sup like rewind that
We just rollin with the rhythm
Fast from the ashes of stylist division
We these nonstop lyrics of life livin
Not to be forgotten but still unforgiven
When in the mean time there are those who wanna talk
This and that so what suppose that
It gets to the point to where feelings gotta get hurt
And get dirty with the people spreading the dirt
It goes
I tried to give you warning but everyone ignores me
I told I everything loud and clear
But nobodys listening
Call to you so clearly
But you dont want to hear me
I told you everything loud and clear
But nobodys listening
I got a heart full of pain, head full of stress, hair full of anger
Hell did my chest
And everything left is waste of time
I hate my rhymes, but hate everyone elses more
Im riding on the back of this pressure
Guessing that its better I cant keep myself together
Because all of this stress gave me something to write on
Pain gave me something I could set my sights on
Never forget the blood, sweat and tears
The uphill struggle over years
The fear and the trash talking to the people it was to
And the people that started it just like you.
I tried to give you warning but everyone ignores me
I told I everything loud and clear
But nobodys listening
Call to you so clearly
But you dont want to hear me
I told you everything loud and clear
But nobodys listening
I got a heart full of pain, head full of stress, hair full of anger
Hell did my chest
Uphill stuggle, blood , sweat and tears, nothing to gain
Everything to fear
(repeat)
I tried to give you warning but everyone ignores me
I told I everything loud and clear
But nobodys listening
Call to you so clearly
But you dont want to hear me
I told you everything loud and clear
But nobodys listening
song performed by by Linkin Park
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Team
We look like we know what we're doing
When they ask us to play
Only takes two or three minutes
To warm up and give it our best
And beat all the rest
The girls in the stands and all of our fans
We're for our team yeah
You'll never lose it
With us you're still number one
We run out onto the court
We're playing our favorite sport
We don't care about the big guys
We're taking them down to our size
And we get a rise
From the girls in the stands and all of our fans
Yeah
We're for our team yeah
You'll never lose it
With us you're still number one
Give it our best
And beat all the rest
For the girls in the stands and all of our fans
We're for our team yeah
You'll never lose it
With us you're still number one
You'll never lose it
With us you're still number one
You'll never lose it
With us you're still number one
You'll never lose it
With us you're still number one
[email protected]
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pain Is Just To Real
The pain is just to real.
There’s a tear somewhere deep within me.
Pulling at me, reaching up, seizing me.
The pain is just to real.
It bursts white hot scorching my insides.
Prying me open, ripping inside me.
The pain is just to real.
Needles hitting over and over again.
A cry of fear burst through my mouth.
The pain is just to real.
I hear the thud each time the pain comes.
It’s excruciating, I can’t take this much longer.
The pain is just to real.
I clutch my chest I can’t seem to breathe.
It’s killing me.
The pain is just to real.
Something’s shattering inside me.
It’s hitting every piece of flesh within me.
The pain is just to real.
White hot pain explodes in my chest.
Thud, Thud, pain pulses through my veins.
The pain is just to real.
My muscles begin to twitch.
Clutching my chest I think I see lights.
The pain is just to real.
My vision goes blurry.
I’m coming short of breath.
The pain is just to real.
With one gasping breathe I realize what’s happening.
My heart is shattering..
poem by Krystal Allison
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Spoken word *Just Breathe
breathe like its your first time or your last
breathe like you just got an A in class
and you have not studied all year, so you don't know how you passed
inhale, exhale, gasp
breathe like its 5pm Friday afternoon
like your 7 yrs old sitting in front of your television watching Saturday cartoons
breathe like a newborn fresh from his mothers womb
breathe, breathe, breathe,
breathe like your favorite team just won the big game
like the girl you've had a crush on actually knows your name
breathe like the guy you've been eying feels the same
like you'll never again feel pain
breathe like the sun just parted the rain
breathe like the whole world has gone crazy
and your the only one left sane
breathe like every other day is a holiday
and the day before that day is pay day
breathe like your son just came home from war
breathe like your kidnapped 12 yr old daughter just came walking through the front door
breathe like you don't know what stress is
breathe like you did when all you wanted was to do what the big kids did
breathe like its the last day of school
like you've worked for 65 yrs and your retiring to your pool
breathe like your family and your word is all you got
like you must hit the bullseye and only have one shot
breathe like you just survived the Holocaust
breathe like the only religion that matters is being a human being
breathe like you would if society followed Dr. King's dream
breathe like its your first time or even your last
poem by Daryl Hennix
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Breathe
! Spoken Word!
breathe like its your first breath or even you last
breathe like you just got an A in class
and you have not studied all year, so you don't know how you passed
inhale, exhale, gasp
breathe like its 5pm Friday afternoon
like your 7 yrs old sitting in front of your television watching Saturday cartoons
breathe like a newborn fresh from his mothers womb
breathe, breathe, breathe,
breathe like your favorite team just won the big game
like the girl you've had a crush on actually knows your name
breathe like the guy you've been eying feels the same
like you'll never again feel pain
breathe like the sun just parted the rain
breathe like the whole world has gone crazy
and your the only one left sane
breathe like every other day is a holiday
and the day before that day is pay day
breathe like your son just came home from war
breathe like your kidnapped 12 yr old daughter just came walking through the front door
breathe like you don't know what stress is
breathe like you did when all you wanted was to do what the big kids did
breathe like its the last day of school
like you've worked for 65 yrs and your retiring to your pool
breathe like your family and your word is all you got
like you must hit the bullseye and only have one shot
breathe like you just survived the Holocaust
breathe like the only religion that matters is being a human being
breathe like you would if society followed Dr. King's dream
breathe like its your first time or even your last
Just breathe
poem by Daryl Hennix
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Laying next to you
Laying next to you,
Hearing you breathe,
Watching you suffer,
Watching the blood tears run down your face,
I can’t wash away your pain,
You can’t wash away my endless sorrows,
Laying next you feel as if I was laying down alone,
Watching you walk away,
Watching you leave out of my life,
It hurts me inside,
My endless sorrows made me cry,
I try hard to not show it,
To show what you mean to me,
Laying next to you makes me feel all warm inside,
Just talking to you makes me have butterflies in my stomach,
Just watching you smile makes me smile,
Just watching you fade away makes me wanna hurt myself,
One thing I ever wanted in life was you.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Pure
I want to feel you hesitate
I want to feel you pull away
I want to feel you realise
That I am not love come to play
I want to feel your pink clean skin
I want to feel your purity
I want to feel you touch my pain
I want to drown in your misery
Hey bitch, this is what you are
Purified, Sanctified, Sacrificed
Hey bitch, this is what you are
Purified, Sanctified, Sacrificed
This is what you are.
I want to feel your innocence
I want to hear you beg for 'Him'
I want to be your animal
I want to be your sin
I want to tear your dreams away
And show you hopes last sanctuary
I want to dip your wings in blood
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You
The sound of your tears as they hit the floor,
The love you bleed through your soul is where I belong,
Will I lose you like you have lost your heart that I seek?
Disappear from your blood before I flow in it?
Leave you breathless when you are-breathless?
I fall before you; begging your broken heart to beat,
Should I make this world disappear so that you may notice me?
You are the rising tides of my blood,
The heart within my heart,
The mind within my soul-
The image I call mine,
The being I was born to love.
Isunge Mwangase, Chishala Ruth Zulu © 2010.
poem by Isunge Mwangase
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Each To His Or To Her Own
I only came into the pub for to have a quiet beer
But talk of football all I hear I ask what brought me here
And I thought there was more to life than talking of football
But with that at the Local Pub few would agree at all.
One fellow said my team doing well with stress on the word my
Methought he thinks he owns the team or so he seems to imply
And then he sang a line from the anthem of his club 'When the Saints go marching in'
His voice was booming loud and clear above the bar room din.
Suppose it beats talking of war or politics maybe
Though football a boring subject or so 'twould seem to me
But each to his or her own as they say and those words seem so true
And to them I seemed a boring man one of the unenlightened few.
One asked me what team do you barrack for mate, I said who win or lose
Won't matter much to you or I it won't pay for our booze
At which he only laughed aloud saying you must have a team
Or in your present company you are out of place 'twould seem.
Indeed I said how right you are on this we can agree
For you are you and I are I we see things differently
He shouted to the barman give the man a beer he's not a bad old boy
Though on a few important things we do not see eye to eye.
I bought him a beer before I left, thank you old boy he said
And he started to sing 'Good Old Collingwood' the booze had gone to his head
And as I walked out in the night the moon shone in the sky
And a boobook owl called on a gum in the Parkland nearby.
poem by Francis Duggan
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If I Were A Bubble I Would Be Everlasting
i am a red and gold bubble.i like to watch crowds of people pass by me.i dont like it when they try to bust me. i love football and i like it when the crowds shout.sometimes people doubt our team then they all start to fight and scream.i love when the football approaches our direction in the crowd.that's what i love, the cleats click cllacking on the concrete.the football helmets slamming clickety clack clanging together.as we try to knock the other team into their fear.but all the joy and tears fill up in my bubble i love to bleed red and gold but even if i was a bubble i would still cheer on my team. once a rebel always a rebel.go fight win we always fight to win go rebels....
poem by Destiney Baker
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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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Blood River
They came in thousands
and their spear points glitter,
while the sun’s first rays
folds over the plain.
In the laager the men are drinking coffee
and are eating biltong and gather,
to read out of the bible
and to pray
and make a holy oath and covenant
with the Almighty God
to stop an overwhelming foe.
Out of the fog they rise
and the impi forms
in into all its battle lines,
like a storm sea
of which the waves gather ominous
to smash to pieces.
At every wagon there’s thorn branches
and four hundred and seventy Boer farmers
stand with their flintlock guns,
while the women and children
are melting lead at the fires
and they wait fearless on the enemy.
Their war cries hangs chilling
and Abatagati resounds
like thunder out thousands of mouths,
while the impi
storms in a killing frenzy to the wagons
and spears like a swarm of bees
fill the air
and descent deadly.
Shooting and loading
are repeated without end
and rifle barrels get red hot,
while thousands storm almost unstoppable
to spear and bash dead.
The Lord hears
and thousands are stopped
in their tracts
and before the dark night comes
the river’s water is blood
and on the battle field
three thousand Zulu warriors are dead
and Umhlela and Dambuza
and their whole impi,
is destroyed
and there is nobody
to return to Dingaan.
[References: Abatagati=> Kill the magicians. Dingaan=> Zulu king. Umhlela and Dambuza=>Captain’s of Dingaan.=> Dingaan’s generals. Impi=> Zulu army. At Isandlwana 1329 British soldiers died en and at Rorke's Drift eleven people were declared heroes and still they could not stop death against the Zulu impi. Only three Boer Voortrekkers were wounded at Blood River and they had faith in a Almighty God.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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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 heartbeat of a football team is the quarterback position and I think everyone who has any intelligence about the game understands you must have consistency at that position to be a championship team.
quote by Ron Jaworski
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The End Of The Family Line
With no complications
Fifteen generations
(of mine)
All honouring nature
Until i arrive
(with incredible style)
I'm the end of the line
The end of the family line
The end of the line
No baby pulled screaming
Out into this seething whirl
By chance or whim
(or even love ?)
Our family tree hacked into decline
And i'm spared the pain
Of ever saying
("goodbye")
I'm the end of the line
The end of the family line
The end of the line
The decision is mine
The end of the family line
The end of the line
I'm the end of the line
The end of the family line
The end of the ...
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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