Pain in Spain
Shame in the game
Who do you blame
When your approach is lame
Three lions or three blind mice?
Copyright © John Pen | Year Posted 2014
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Just like you!
Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013
Copyright © Thomas Martin | Year Posted 2015
“Woe is me,” when football season closes
Crimson Tide lost in a sea of roses
Tampa Bucs, Tide, Seminoles
To “off” my remote just strolls
I’ll use TM for football osmosis
My Coach Bowden-signed football is glass-encased
How do I endure the trauma I’ve faced?
With my pompoms cast aside
“Six-month drought!” I cried
“It would hurt less to have my face replaced.”
*Entry for Susan’s “Drama Queen” contest.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011
There once was a sports game called football.
Where the players knew how to trip and fall.
They were clumsy it's true.
You see they wore Panther's blue.
And the coach never knew what to call.
*for Royal Trevino's "My favorite sport (Limerick)" contest
Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2011
< let's get ready for some football ..... Ya !
Eagles verses da ..... Bears Well ... then Hey !
Here's kickoff ~ by da ....... Bears
Ohhhhhhhh ! fell off .... T ..... Unfair
Second ..... blocked ..... Eagles 7 - Nay !
Let's Limerick Contest
Tribute To Football
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2010
Just like football
I am going to be chased in life's game
by a bunch of ladies
as if playing a football match.
I am going to be chased in life's game
they will rush just to touch me
as if playing a football match
receiving me gently in the chest.
They will rush just to touch me
the goalkeeper among them
receiving me gently in the chest
will give me sure kisses.
The goalkeeper among them
I am going to love her
will sure give me kisses
soft like a feather's touch.
I am going to love her
though I may get occasional kick
soft like a feather's touch
that is part of the game.
Though I may get occasional kick
I must forget the pain
that is part of the game
with so many cute ladies around.
I must forget the pain
I will be so sought after
with so many cute ladies around
everyone wanting to hug me.
I will be so sought after
by a bunch of ladies
everybody wanting to hug me
just like a football.
© kashinath karmakar (27th June 2011)
Placement:HM (August 2011)
Copyright © kash poet | Year Posted 2011
There’s a special whimsy place inside of each and every Troll.
And a rainbow will bring it out the best, if I may be so bold.
The Aurora Borealis makes them want to jump and sing.
But bring out a fancy rainbow, and they’re off, for it, to seek.
Apparently, it’s the colors that draw them to its beautiful lights.
So my son got out his prism, and played with the Trolls, late last night.
He had them hooping, and hollering, then scurrying across the floor.
Then he sent the prism to somewhere else, you can be, so sure.
Off they would go again, the winner bumping the others out of the way.
My cats couldn’t have done it better, but were smart and stayed away.
It’s not healthy to get in the middle, of a group of trolls found in play.
It didn’t seem to matter, that they couldn’t put it in their hands.
But they never gave up trying, to win the ultimate prize and upper hand.
Fortunately, they were in the barn with plenty of room to swing and fly.
Where walls can be replaced, and poles are easy, there, to mend and buy.
Of course, my son was in deep trouble, and would have to repair everything.
But the trolls didn’t seem to mind helping to put every thing back, again.
And the carpenter called to fix the posts was, you can guess, the football coach.
Apparently he thinks, they’d make great linebackers, to protect the quarter back.
All he seems to think they’ll need… is a little focus… I say good luck with that!
But he’ll have them working every day, till hell freezes over, before he gives up.
That does bid the question… Where did all those football players come from?
Could they be trolls, lumbering down those fields, in those professional teams?
Those fancy uniform colors, definitely, are like the prisms colors brought to life…
Could it be? Who would of thunk it? Yes, they are there… I certainly, Do Believe!
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
On some English grass
On a piece of land forever England
Warriors of the realm
Take holy orders, on their Fathers grave
To defend the honour of their local pub
For this is the noble art of Sunday league Football
The crowds bay for blood
Shouts of foul and blind as a bat
The decision absurd
The referee a drunkard
Shouts of bar steward,
And your mothers questionable character
Cleaned up for posterity
The game goes on
Frank, the winger another yellow card
Another fine, I fear he will be barred
Groans for Bill a night watchman by trade
I think he’s a blade (Sheffield United supporter)
But not a very good keeper I’m afraid
Then there’s the striker
Super king Jack, 40 a day and a cough to match
Will need a penalty to score in this match
What about ken, a beer belly full back,
Rarely runs for fear of a heart attack
And slugger the centre half
Likes to break legs,
And still the only guy to sup a half a keg
Smooth talking tommy pulls birds on the six yard line
Greased black hair, and knobbly knees to match
Still Skill is not this team’s forte, for we are Britain’s
Taking part is our religion
Lost another game two nil
But won three two at fighting, brill
Bottom of the league
First Aid in the pub
A good drink after
Enemies in the field, but forever friends in laughter.
That’s Sunday football league
Home to the wife
And Sunday dinner, roast beef and Yorkshire pud
Another bottle of bud
Feet up, settee calls
Dreams of Wembley, and Sheffield Wednesday
Not a bad life for this Yorkshire clan
Here in Sheffield where football began.
Copyright © steven cooke | Year Posted 2011
Here is my version of a paradigm shift,
Socratic questions if you get my drift!
Why did God make the Universe elliptical?
To make an Aussie football, not spherical!
Why did God make football? See here,
To make men miserable, my dears!
Why did God make beer?
To make men happy, my dears!
So, some intelligent chappies here,
Taking beer to the football, no fears,
Now they're miserable and happy dears!
Copyright © Julie Grenness | Year Posted 2015
“Guten Morgen”… or should I say “Good Morning”…
This is Punxsutawney Phil
Hailing you from Gobblers Knob
That’s my tiny hill!
Today, I am feeling like such a lucky ground hog…
I know that some of you may be weeping
But as for me I will soon be sleeping
Because, there’s going to be six more weeks of winter ~
You may say Phil what were you thinking!
Well, it was kind of hard to see here
With the rain turning to snow
It’s the day after the Super Bowl
Yet, somehow my shadow it did show;
You know I had to go,
Because, it frightened me so
Thus, back to bed I must go to hibernate
But not before my veggie shake…
By the way, the game was just great,
This is Phil signing off… Saying
“Haben Sie eine gute Nacht”
Meaning “Have a Good Night”
I’ve been up way too late!
Copyright © Adell Foster | Year Posted 2015
CAN YOU SPEAK WOMAN?
I can speak French and sometimes Chinese
I can also speak cat with some ease
When he miaows at me as he goes
I mimic his call and he knows
When the dog barks I reply
Even the horse and I see eye to eye
But I can’t speak “woman”
It’s beyond the speech power of a man.
I can’t talk for hours about shoes
And discuss the merits of mauves or blues
Or share the humour of how pink bows
Don’t go with green pillows
And go all weepy over Meryl Streep
Or wax lyrical over some punk-rock creep
Or persuade some guy to discuss flowers
Rather than the size of the nuclear powers
.. . . . so she said. . . . so then I said. . .
And she whispered. . . . and her face went red. . . .
No it’s impossible to spend hours on the phone
I’d rather sit watching football all alone
It’s futile me trying to pretend
An interest in what gift to send
Or remember birthdays wi th accuracy
Such a task would drive me crazy
God save me from female speech
Let me speak “man”, I beseech
Just let me sit alone and grunt
Or maybe shoot, fish, and hunt
And talk to the dog about football facts
Or maybe to the car while I wax.
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2012
Mr. Webster defines "impatience" as a dislike for anything causin' delay.
Alas, my paucity of patience I am reminded of each and every day!
'Tis a subject upon which the Lord and I are in constant consultation.
Lord, help me in my quest for more patience is my earnest supplication!
On Sunday morns I squirm in my pew listenin' to the preacher pontificate.
His interminable oration goes on and on - for my football game I'll be late!
Again that very afternoon I lose all patience with my favorite football team!
Their fumblin', stumblin', bumblin' play just makes me want to scream!
I have little patience with slow movin' traffic causin' me to lay upon the horn!
Others extend a finger in response! (As I understand it, that's a sign of scorn)!
I impatiently wait for the leaves to blossom on my trees around the first of May.
In the autumn season, my patience is taxed rakin' those infernal leaves away!
I lose patience with the government always intrudin' in my life,
With their inane and meddlesome schemes that are so very rife!
I'm impatient with folks who babble on and on when a word or two will do,
Or retellin' a story I've heard a dozen times - 'tis a classic case of deja vu!
Forgive me Lord when at times I even become impatient with Thee.
If impatience is a sin, Lord I pray that You'll show mercy unto me!
Help me in my quest to be more patient is my earnest supplication,
But won't You please expedite Thy accomodation is my exhortation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2010
Dude, guess what?
Yesterday, I got to go through my dad’s dealership
and pick out a sweet ride for my 16th birthday!
It’s a convertible, dude
It’s a hot rod, dude
It’s red, dude
It’s a hot, hot rod
And it’s got chrome-covered wheels!
Wait until the guys get a load of this!
Dude, this weekend, wanna go get drunk?
Ah! Dude! I totally saw my wellness teacher
at the Rush yesterday! She was
benching more than half the football team!
I could totally take her though!
I’m not going to let a woman tell me what to do!
Dude, I better retake the ACT this Saturday
I totally need a 16 to play on the football team
at Northwestern Kentucky State Community College!
Remind me not to drink too much after the game!
And we’re totally gonna smoke Blount County! Huh! Huh! Huh!
Dude, this guy totally looked at me funny
in the bathroom between classes! Man, we gave him the
hugest swirly! You shoulda been there!
Dude, I got practice after school today
but afterwards, you wanna go roll that queer in Bio class?
Copyright © Jesse Jones | Year Posted 2007
Chihuahua Football At The Rose Hill Stadium
Watching football at home with my little dogs on a cold winter night, I realize that I coach my
own football team.
Running deep far into the football field at the Rose Hill Stadium (Which is my vegetable-dyed
Persian rug that I bought at an estate sale to cover my hardwoods.) is Piglet, a young and
highly spirited white short-hair Chihuahua, who happens to also be a neutered male, ripped
with lots of muscles and little body fat. Piglet leaps up high and is able to catch in mid-air
the fluffy white piece of parmesan cheese covered popcorn with his cute little white teeth.
(That I just brushed with chicken flavored toothpaste after his bath)
Tessie, the long-haired, black and white female Chihuahua, who is not so lean, executes
most of her plays as the defensive tackle position. She often blocks Piglet from catching his
popcorn and also profits from his fumbles, by intercepting his popcorn and eating it before
she is able to execute a perfect touchdown. (Haven’t managed to teach her to delay eating
her popcorn yet)
Each year they get better and better, next year they might be ready to take their show on
the road. Until then, they have until the Super Bowl to practice their four footed maneuvers
and tricks. At best, they could make it to Letterman's Stupid Pet Tricks some day soon.
(No harm was done to animals in preparation of writing this poem or playing Chihuahua
Copyright © Marie Harrison | Year Posted 2010
I'm amazed, startled, and fed up,
With everything we see, to be
compared with football fields,
What about those like me...
who don't know a darn ol' thing,
'Bout "footballs" and their yards,
How many football fields,
Can dance on a pin-head?
How many footballs can you
equate to a foot...
Leaving how many more toes?
To cram inside your boot?
I've only seen one football game,
Or, really part, there-of,
In 1966, I think, I never learned to love,
This silly game, over territory
Seemingly useless, as far as I can see...
Show me who wants a lawn,
With big numbers, painted graffiti , what's the key?
I seem to be alone in this,
Mention it, and in my beer,
some will piss...
I mean, what's wrong?
They couldn't even get the ball
to be round,
Looks like someone sat on it,
Maybe an overweight hound...
Pig skin? Are they throwing
bacon strips around?
Now that I'd understand,
And would also fight for ground.
P.S.: How many Doghouses in a football field?
How many mite sites in a Dog house?
How many of those termites are terminal?
How could you possibly read this mind dribble?
Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007