I've always wanted to write poems about Liverpool FC, the team that I love. So over the years I've written loads of them, but despite my efforts most of them turn out... well, crap really. Writing about something you love (or someone you love for that matter) is actually really difficult because you always end up feeling that you haven't done it (or them) justice. All of your efforts, when assessed, always pale in comparison to the real thing and it really gets to you after a while. Anyone who knows or understands football, in particular Liverpool, will know what I mean. Nothing comes close to going to a game or witnessing first hand the team's, the club's acheivements.
Despite this, I have reluctantly decided to publish a few on here. They ain't Wordsworth but I'm fed up with trying to compare myself to him, and anyway, I heard from somewhere that he was an Everton fan. YNWA.
*****
Dear Rafa
Dear Rafa,
You’re the Gaffer
And I know it’s not my place
But you see
It seems to me
When Stevie bagged that brace
He solved the riddle
Of our middle
And brightened up your face
A central role
Is in his soul
Now will you hear our case?
Dear Rafa
Like a Jaffa
You possess appeal
Your mind is sharp
And like a harp
From which you pluck your zeal
You’re often right
But this just might
Give you the league to steal
We’re never bare
Of silverware
But we want 19 to become real
Dear Rafa
I hope you have a
Very long time here
I know that rhyme
Was not that fine
But please lend me your ear
If you want Steve
To really believe
You must allay his fear
He is alright
Upon the right
But in the middle, he’s the best its clear
Dear Rafa
You’ll just have ta
Settle for this verse
But with this man
In your central plan
You’ll never need to stretch our purse
It almost seems
That with our team
You see him as a curse
But our Number Eight
Is an all-time great
Without you both, life would be so much worse.
*****
Five Eighteen And So On
Blood red, scarlet shirts that shine
Like Poppies in a grain field, they shimmer
Glinting as they stand apart, amidst the average
But above the rest in clear and crimson setting skies
That float and gather over Stanley Park
Around the regal, protecting gates
The crest of flames and flight unknown
Five stars on every heart embedded
The roar begins, from towering walls
Shaking with the stamps of men and cheers
Of raw lungs and hearts in rapture
The old boss keeps his lookout post
Adored for his foresight and his mind
His sons and kin around him sing
You’ll Never Walk Alone so clear and true
Cut us in half
And we bleed red.
*****
The Beard, The Boss, The Brain
Take a man, a mould for mixture
And concoct this fine elixir
Add a pinch of facial fuzz
To a brain that’s all a-buzz
With thoughts too deep for our comprehension
This brain is in a strange and new dimension
Give him suits of fine old cut
Give him a by-line on which to strut
Add some specks and watch him go
Then stand back and see Rafa glow
*****
Kop (8)
A cresting wave, tall and dark it rocks
Fired, fuelled with a thousand memories
Draped in silver, bathed in glory
A standing king, famed across the seas
A field of fire, screams and sings
The bricks have felt a thousand tears
But more it knows of heaven’s heights
The Kop, it grows, it rocks, it rules
*****
25.05.05 - An Epic
When all was lost, they heard the call
Their hearts were lifted, the men stood tall
While all around them raised their voice
These brave souls did make their choice
Like a Phoenix from the shadow's ash
Eleven rose and heard their sheilds clash
Wounds still fresh, they began again
The mythic bird with the lion's mane
For early in the battle cut, they stumbled
By the olive and the cross, they were humbled
Stuck again and left at sea they fell
Born to the heavens but left to hell
The eastern night was drawing cold and in
Broken by a third that quelled the din
Their general called them close and sold
A promise of bright silver gold
So here they stood on a sea of green
Crimson clouds around them seen
Glimpsing foes with hands upon the prize
Their prayers loud began to rise
And on they marched to a brother's song
Remembering their pride of old, so long
Ago and their ancient sage and king
The battles won and the treasured thing
A shot! a thrust from nothing made
He scores a hit with just minutes played
From obscurity to grace he cries aloud
Lifting all from fighters to their madding crowd
With arms he calls to raise the flag
The hero, strong as ox and swift as stag
And with men rallied he runs on and on
'Til his cousin sees a battle to be won
So lashes he from far away
Speculation on his final day
But low and hard he beats his man
And belief is found by every fan
That a magic's in the air this night
And though the road's been full of plight
Those in blue and stripes have felt their strength
All enemies dissmissed at length
On the hero runs 'til felled from grace
But strikes his foe in a deadly place
For taken from his feet unfair
All step back from the Spanish stare
Which is aimed at great Guardian's face
Who guesses right and parries the Iberian mace
But swift is Spanish blood and mind
And his goal he eventually finds
The war is drawn but end it must
Though armour meets with every thrust
Each strike is met with sheild arm
But the enemy has found his charm
And does loose his hounds to kill
The crowd astound with thrill and skill
But tall and tough our Pole did act
Until the end he stood intact
But on it dragged, too long for weaker hearts
Astounding with science and glorious art
Had tried to end this drawn out war
Skirmishing 'til all were broke and sore
The battle raged and songs were sung
Until the deadliest unleashed and stung
But only the hands of the noble Pole
Who stood enchanted, on his sleeve his soul
And so we move to to the final end
When luck or fate would her will bend
To draw this legend to its close
A fitting stage for this show of shows
So standing there beneath the lights
The red and tired men stood tallest from this fight
They watched on as strode the hero
Who would lift them all at their hour zero
These duels and tussles tired on
Until all was square and the time was gone
When there stood the fabled Pole
With shaking legs and his noble soul
Was approached by the deadliest again
Who drew his breath and intended pain
But he stood knowing his best had been foiled
For all his plans by the Pole were spoiled
He ran and struck down his greatest blow
For all who watched the clocks ran slow
Seconds took an eon to pass by
All waiting, whether to cheer or cry
The weapon moved on straight and true
But the Pole, he knew, he knew!
And lifted hand and blocked the blow
One night in May he stole this show
The crowd erupted with tears of joy
The warriors danced, the general bouyed
Into the night their laughter was heard
"Champions!" "Champions!" the word
The hero lifted the giant cup
He kissed it and by the angels up
Was lifted, fought for with the gloves and ball
That now sit in our ancestral hall
And so returned to a grand parade
History, for the people made
So ends the tale of that night in May
On which the greatest game was played
In red ribbons the prize was tied
In red shirts and hearts was pride
The heroes of that night now all immortalized
25.05.05, a whisper in the summer skies
*****
The Change Will Come
I want to see it standing tall
This fresh and new unfabled hall
The glass and glinting steel bright
On Stanley Park, oh, what a sight!
New Anfield ready for trophies galore
The future’s improving, that is for sure…
But what of our ancestral home?
Those steps and seats we’ve called our own
A Million tears have hit the stone
Along with laughs, cheers, groans and moans
Where Shankly stalked the thin white line
That God tried to snort in high sunshine
Where King Kenny ran the games we won
Where Barnes and Rush had so much fun
Where St Michael fledged and spread his wings
Where Paisley won so many things
Where Crazy Horse cut the opposition down
Where Carra and Stevie fight for the crown
The day will come, not long away
When goodbyes we’ll have to say
That final curtain must descend
And to Anfield, bring a final end
But in our hearts it will always be our home
Oh, Kop, oh, Anfield, You’ll Never Walk Alone
But as one legend closes, a new one begins
A fitting home for future wins
History isn’t something to be seen, but made
And in one hundred years, after the game is played
Land might be bought where an old stadium stood
And our sons will wonder if move back, they should
*****
MOTD And The Ruins Of A Saturday Night
0-0
What’s the point?
I’m broke, I’m knackered, I want to watch football
But 0-0...
Why?
They should have won, so I’m pissed off
If they’d lost I could have had a real moan
But 0-0...
It’s like finding cat-shit in your slippers
Annoyance and inconvenience
What’s on apart from MOTD?
All I wanted to do tonight, was watch football
But 0-0! It sucks!
They may as well have not played.
Ok, it’s a point, a point’s a point, but what’s the point?
Three points is a party, none is a wake
But one is the loneliest number.
0-0...
*****
Squad List (a bit of)
Torres’ twisting, fast-paced turns
Stevie’s stinging shots and shouts
Carra’s crunching crutial tackles
Pepe’s palming keeps them out
Babel’s blistering, burning tricks
Momo’s hardened holding role
Sami’s sharpened, shaping sense
Crouchie’s tall and deft control
Riise’s thunderbolts and strikes
Xabi’s perfect, passing plays
Finnan’s fine and trusted form
Pennant’s pin-point crosses prey
Dirk’s total football fires goals
Agger’s ace in front or back
Alvaro’s versatile skills
But when will Harry make it back?
*****
Buddha was a Rafa-ist!
Our meditating mastermind
Levitates on the sidelines
Thinking up another scheme
Ideas formed within a dream
Like a Yoda of our Anfield road
But rather than shout, jibe or goad
He sits cross legged and thinks it up
How we’ll win the league or cup
The flood lights are his bodhi tree
His mind not bound by wall or sea
Stroking beard and conceptualise
Our hands already on the prize
Now Buddha sits in Nirvana’s light
Only Rafa’s Reds are a greater sight
*****
Jumping for goalposts
Tearing us apart, this childish squabble
Savoir turned to sour grapes
Shadows stain the nervous Kop
A drop of war, distorts and drags us down
Around the world the wounds are deep
Anfield road, drowned in regrets
Pools of ancient history are rippled
Gripped by future shrouded and uncertain
We calm waters face their final curtain
But an oasis is in the arid desert springs
Shaken by the scarlet pillar’s quaking
But salvation shimmering could be mirage
While knaves, now cast aside by masters
Scrape and scrimp and save to save their souls
As the gladiators fight with furrowed brows
To tears and cheers under the Spanish stars
Few scars and great silver hordes
But who next steps between our boardroom doors?
So the servants, the sheik and the suit
Pitch battle in invisible words and figures
Our hearts in our mouths, hands ringing
Still singing, bringing hope to all us fools
For all we want is safety, peace of mind and hope
And a future for our beloved Liverpool
*****
Ray Of Hope
My dad talks about you
I don’t know what real football was
He’d talk about Jimmy picking you out
You working hard
Terry Mac on the charge
Best midfield in the world
Unsung heroes, unsung hero
Well here’s a song for you
You didn’t need Bill or Bob
Already made of Gunner gold
But you changed, reframed for us
A picture rearranged that thrust
And cut through opposition ranks
With the scary Scots and the man on the case
Running out of space for places for the silverware
The player of the seventies
Cherished memories etched in your eyes
More power than the president
Then tragedy, unforgiving fate
Undeserved this current state
It isn’t fair, both red and red and white agree
To see such a legend lost to memory
We want to hear you in good health
That wealth of legends in soft words
Soft humour, floating voice
A hero who should be built in bronze
Our friend, our Ray of Hope
*****
The Sum Of Strength
8
Thunder never fought so hard
Thor’s hammer never hit like this
Son of our fields strong and bold
Hands will soon more gold behold
A legend in a lifetime already
Great leader of our hearts and thoughts
Loyal inspiration, a gift from heaven
Named Hero by our old and young
9
Tower of the southern dusty planes
Upon our world descended
And arisen like an avenging angel
Taming shields not expecting
Iberian mind with Hermes’ sole
Assassin with thoughts only for goal
New star in blood red cloth
Fire, strength, an angel’s wrath
23
None have worked as he has done
Struggle, fight and think he will
A ringing voice and scarred tongue
And still a lion forged in battle
Protecting us from stings and scratch
Attacking rarely but nothing lacks
His passion, pride and vigour whole
Our boy, our man, a warrior soul
4
A revolution bound in red
With mind and stature unparalleled
Veteran now and fearless, swift
Horus eyes his greatest gift
A crunching bite and ringing voice
From northern icy shores reborn
Gave us rebirth and will return a king
A killer instinct wrapped in thought
21
Young promise, soon to be a star
From distant jungles has come far
To fight in heat of battle fierce
Long, dancing crown that cuts down
With grace and strength, Apollo’s pride
Wise beyond his years and more
Long live this son of burning orb
And may he always wear our red
19
Climbed mountains in a flat homeland
Coveted by eyes wide and far
He chose us as we chose him
Already we witness his rising star
A jester teasing faltering foes
Juggling tricks and a part to play
His act brings our enemies dismay
Young prince, he will make us proud
25
Pouncing panther, lightning speed
Guardian of our wants and hopes
Reflexes sharp and muscles honed
Spanish shoulders broad and gold
Stand solid like a pillar carved in flesh
But with great talent when man to man
Clairvoyant jumps and seeking eyes
Quick distribution and a charming smile
*****