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Football Narrative Poems | Narrative Poems About Football

These Football Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Football. These are the best examples of Football Narrative poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

Details | Narrative |

Super Bowl Day

They're playing in the bowl tomorrow
and we are so very proud.
We Seahawk fans are loyal
and also very loud.
We'll be settled by our TV sets
before the game begins.
We'll stay for the fifth quarter
no matter which side wins.
I'm thinking of my men folks
who had cheered them through the years.
Are they watching them from Heaven
and applauding with loud cheers?

The Seahawk's  franchise was formed
back in Nineteen Seventy-Six.
My husband and four brothers
would yell like lunatics
when the Seahawks added to their score
And it seemed as though they'd win.
I would look at them all yelling
and would shudder at the din.

Then when my son was older,
he joined that happy crew.
I threw in the towel and recognized
I would have to join them too.
They taught me all about first downs
and field goals and touch downs also
and many of the games intricacies
that a good fan needs to know.

My husband and my brothers
and even my loved son
have all gone on before before me
Their cheering on Earth is done.
I wish that they could be here
to see their loved team play.
Daughters and grandchildren will cheer with me
tomorrow on Super Bowl Day.

By: Joyce Johnson


Details | Narrative |

Glory Days

He oozed charm, this aging lothario.
Gallantry was his middle name.
Yet, he lived in the past
in the glory days of football wins
and cheerleaders…
denying his saggy abdomen
blind eye, and fungus crusted feet…

Gallantry was his middle name
and he wheedled his way into the affections
of many lost and lonely woman.
When the only women 
of true importance in his life  
were his daughters…

He lived in the past
slept with his dog, and swam in Speedos
bald pate shining in the sun.   
Once, long ago he was married to a cheerleader.
She’s stopped cheering, as his life filled
with their daughter and she was no longer his girl.
Caught between life, death, 
and the deep blue sea, he swam.
Arriving at the home of each new prospective conquest
with the requisite flowers and small talk.

The glory days of football still danced
before his single good eye upon the giant bar screen,
where he served mimosa’s and other drinks with a wink.
He smiled with a well-worn charm, and didn’t touch the stuff.
Still, he tried. But, most times, 
he felt more at home
with his daughters…



Details | Narrative |

Football

It won't be long now, and football will rule,
those die hard fans, and there are quiet a few.,

One wrong word, and they are ready to fight,
can't miss this, grownups acting a sight.

They get painted all up, looking cute for TV,
the true fans stand out, ready for all to see.

Soon, very soon, football will rule,
so don't be on the wrong side, if you scream out boo.


Details | Narrative |

Women Who LOVE Football - VERSION 1

Women Who LOVE Football
Live with PASSION
Are not afraid to FIGHT
Aren’t afraid to get DIRTY
Know how to put their GAME FACE on
Are always ready to EXECUTE their OPTIONS
WILL NEVER GIVE UP
Have a sense of PURPOSE
Are STRONGER than they think
PLAY by the RULES
Have ATTITUDE 
Will lose with DIGNITY
And will always WIN with STYLE.

 
(November 28, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved, 


Details | Narrative |

High School Days

We are not perfect by no means at all,
some are too skinny, some are too tall,
I  was always the tallest in my class,
until High school, then I found my match.
5' 7'' kinda tall for a girl,
then I decided, I wanted to twirl,
The football players always kidded with me,
but I knew they were flirting, they really liked me.
My hair was long, and blonde as can be,
they told me not past the shoulders, little Crissy.
I had to pile it up, but it never stayed,
stringy haired twirler, out on the stage.
Now , I think back to those football games,
remembering those memories, of my High School
Days.


Details | Narrative |

Late 1969

Heather Mitchell and I were best friends
Since the beginning of grade school
We always sat next to each other on the bus,
Played together at recess, and traded each other our lunches

Yeah things were going so great between us
But like everything in life, things began to change
When we both turned sixteen
I purchased my first car and joined the football team

Heather however bought a guitar,
Began wearing bell bottoms, and started smoking dope
Soon she began distancing herself from me,
Her parents soon threw her out of the house,

And she eventually dropped out of school
By then, she started taking LSD,
Listening to Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix,
And hitched rides to every point all across the country

I graduated from high school,
Got a football scholarship to Vanderbilt University,
And met a British Literature major
Who became my wife and mother of my kids

But I never saw or heard from Heather again
The last time I saw her
She was leaving with her friends for California
I turned around ready to walk away

But I heard a knock from the car window
I turned around to see Heather smiling at me,
And right when that green Volkswagon Van
Began to roll forward

She gave me the hand gesture that stood for peace
It touched me and made me feel sad
But I just smiled and returned the gesture
And walked to my red Camaro

I drove back to my parent's house
To finish packing up my belongings,
I vowed to myself that when it came down
To Heather Mitchell and myself
It would jus be forever known as late 1969


Details | Narrative |

Football Burt

So tender in years,
my heart still unhurt,
I remember his name,
sexy football Burt.

All the girls,
would moan, and sigh,
every time,
this hunk passed by.

Not a beauty,
I was tall, and lean,
some called me beanpole,
kids can be so mean.

So unnoticed,
and so very shy,
if a guy spoke to me,
I would nearly die.

My face turned red,
as my heart raced crazy wild,
it happened every time,
a guy would smile.

Then it seemed,
a change came overnight,
my clothes started clinging,
to my curves overnight.

My hair started growing,
and the color changed,
the sunshine had bleached it,
or that was what I claimed.

Enjoying my freshman year
in my mini skirt,
a high school girl,
learning to flirt.

So tender in years,
my heart still unhurt,
I remember his name,
sexy football Burt.