Best Soccer Poems
Written: August 09, 20230
Fifa Women's World Cup 2023 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Mark Toney
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In the realm of soccer, where dreams bear flight,
A stage was set, shining under the beaming light.
The Women World Cup, with glory at stake,
Sweden against the U.S., hearts ready to quake.
Regulation played out, With a nil-nil score,
Both teams gave their all. Their spirits never wore.
The tension in the air—as the clock ticked away.
The crowd held their breaths, in anticipation that day.
Extra time was granted to break the deadlock.
True, a win was staked—each side stood headlock.
The strain grows as there are no goals to be found.
As the clock started to tick away the time abound.
The shootout with penalties—to pick the winner.
In the greatest nerve-racking way feasible spinner
The U.S. stepped up, with confidence and might,
But fate had a different design, on this fateful night.
Three missed kicks—In the realm of soccer fights,
Sealed the U.S.'s fate, In a moment so tight.
Kudos to Musovic—and the Blue and Yellow,
For their resilience and skill, in a match so mellow.
In the realm of soccer, Where dreams bear flight,
This game will forever be a testament to their might.
The Women World Cup—a stage of pure thrill,
Where nations unite, with a passion that is real.
Though the U.S. may have faltered, In this battle so grand,
Their journey won't cease here—their legacy will still stand.
In the realm of soccer, It's not just around the score,
But the heart and grit, retain us coming back for more.
So let us celebrate the triumphs and the falls,
The beauty of the game captures us all.
In the realm of soccer, where dreams bear flight,
We witness moments of glory—battles fought with might.
Congratulations to Sweden—their win was sweet
All dreams in the field of soccer start at the feet.
A stage was built up, gleaming in the spotlight.
The Women's World Cup—the stakes are right.
Our heroes roar
There they are
Flags held high
Voices raised too high
Eyes raised so high
Heads up in the sky
The spirit of football so much
They are our heroes
To play it all
All mouths are wide open
Throats always yelling out
Our heroes truly roar
Our hearts stir to the rhythm
While we watch the ball
We widen our souls in the stadium
One world on the pitch
We catch the ball in our eyes
We all kick it
‘****in **** we goin to do it’
The cries of victory make us sane
The laughter for the goal
The red card curse
The yellow fuss
It’s in the news ;’what a hurray’
They win or lose
The heroes kick up the wind
And kick up the sun’s rays
Till the sweat reminds us of the power
We want them to get the cup for us
When they do we promise to hail them
Though not all of us can have it
Those who lose want to kill
But we remember more excitedly
It’s better than the world war three
It’s the world cup
Those who put their lips to it
Will play it and play it
Because our heroes roar! And roar!
I grew up on granddaddy's ranch
There wasn’t a bull I couldn’t conquer
My cowboy boots only came off
When I changed my clothes for soccer
I love the smell of fresh green grass
The sound of the ball hitting the goal post
I love racing down the field
Ya’ll listening? I love soccer it’s the most
Well. let me tell you a little story ‘bout
Flying on a plane
Our team went to Scotland
To play in a big game
My excitement turned to fear
I was just a mess
The players came from the other team
and each one had on a dress
John gave me a flower
I think I saw it wilt
My coach whispered in my ear
Calm down that is a Kilt
Now ya’ll I know I am from Texas
We’re called the Lone star State
We love our fellow man
Ain’t a neighbor that I hate
But to see a handsome boy
Smile and try to flirt
Reach his hand to shake mine
while wearing a wool skirt
I know I know it’s called a Kilt
and it’s a part of their tradition
but what is a girl to do
I’ve never dealt with such conditions
They come in many colors
John’s was green and red
His friend had one of grey and blue
Matched the hat upon his head
The goalie for their soccer team
Was a boy called David Heath
He laughed and whispered in my ear
“We wear nothing underneath.”
Did I mention I’m from Texas?
Well, I ain’t no Southern Belle
The thoughts I had while practicing
Would’ve made my Mama yell
I looked it up in history books
Researched in magazines
To wear one of those in Scotland
Is like a Texan wearing jeans
I tried to act naturally
but all my head could do was tilt
I just had to go back home
and tell the story of the Kilt
finally, about the time the game was at an end
That cute boy from the airport
reached for the ball and had to bend
I still don’t know if he made the goal
I’ll have to ask Coach Milt
because all I saw was what he didn’t wear
underneath his Kilt
03/07/2021
Written for Scotland-One Rule Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
I remember the first time I saw a ball,
Those exquisite black and white pentagons ...
The geometric excellence that intimated such mystery and excitement ...
I HAD to have one, and started saving my money that very day.
I was only eight years old, and football wasn't big in the U.S.,
But I still wanted that amazing ball ...
After a few weeks of saving and doing extra chores,
I finally held my own ball in my hands,
Turning those five-sided panels over-and-over,
Smelling that glorious leather ... I was in kid heaven!
When I took it to school in my backpack my friends went crazy,
All having to hold it and smell it, all filled with the same energy as I,
My gut tumbling in anticipation of what amazing things might happen!
My little town had no budget for American "football" -
With all its pads and expensive equipment, but we did have "soccer" teams,
And I joined as soon as I could, for the sake of that amazing ball!
We didn't get to see the World Cup back then ...
The 60's and 70's being very limited as far as TV sports,
But we all followed it in the magazines and papers,
And when, years later, we finally got to WATCH the World Cup on television,
It was the substantiation of years spent loving a game
That not many people even TALKED about in the United States ...
A game that my friends and family and little town had loved for years,
Now birthed to fruition and delicious reality right in front of our eyes!
My friends from other parts of the country had heroes -
Heroes like Bart Starr and Bill Russell and Micky Mantle, et al,
But MY hero was PELE', though many here didn't even know his name!
When TV brought the World Cup to kids like me, the world became bigger,
More exciting, and more joyous, all because of that wondrous ball ...
So many years before!
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "2018 World Cup" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Sponsor & Judge.
I am England til I die because England is I.
I am England in my heart, I am England in my eyes,
I am England in my sleep, I am England when I rise,
I am England on the land, in the sea and in the skies.
I will fly high the flag of red and white,
I will do it everyday, I will do it every night,
I will fly it in the peace, I will fly it in the fight.
I will fly it when we're good, I will fly it when we're sh**e.
When England needs, we all fight, we all bleed.
We are together in defeat and together in victory.
I am England with an English heartbeat,
I am England from my head to my feet.
I am England and the feeling is sweet.
We are England and we are complete.
I am England til I die.
I am England with pride.
I am England for life.
I AM ENGLAND,
I AM ENGLAND,
and England is I.
Ciel, on your birth day ‘twas true to say
Heaven’s bright light rays rain’d down from above
Fast forward to fifteen years to the day
Now it’s you that brings light, laughter, and love
Kind, calm and caring, words under control
Wait! Who’s that fleet girl in cleats with the ball?!?
Rocket shot from right wing shoots straight to goal
Through back of the net...ball, keeper and all
French horn, piano, and ukulele
Swimming with sea turtles and manatee
Beautiful music and places to stay
Your trips oft start with Airbnb
Beacon of bright light for love, hope, and peace
Sweetest of sweet hearts, our Ciel Elise
Ponytails
Swishing madly,
Hurdling across the pitch.
Beads of sweat
Spraying in spirals
As fingers point,
Shouting directions
To strikers, wingers, and defensemen.
Defensewomen, really.
Get back!
Push it!
Don't lose form!
Take the shot!
Grazing past the clown gloves.
Concaving the thick nylon.
Back of the net glory!
Now run around like giddy school girls
For exactly 8 seconds.
Now mark your man!
Woman, really.
No whiners here.
No floppers allowed.
What's this look like,
Men's soccer? Pansies.
The beautiful game is proof that
The real soccer men
Are women.
You know what soccer football needs?
Bigger Goals!
An extra meter on each side of the posts.
Bigger Goals means More Goals!
With goals shot from wider out,
the game then would be far less defensive
with less endless back passing,
and shuffling the deck at the back.
Going All in for Goals,
would produce fairer results,
with less flukes and freaky results
holding the sway.
Imagine scores of 5-7, 10-8, 3-7!
What fans want to see is more goals!
What players want is more attacking football
and fairer results,
with more goals from their great shots, some from wider out.
Its so easily done, just shift the goals posts
out wider by a meter on each side.
What the World Cup Needs Now is
Goals, Goals, Goals!
First Placing : Poetry Marathon 2025
Sponsor: Mark Toney
{ FREEDOM “We may want to linger, to stay, to arrest the flow and talk about it, photograph it, lyricize it. Yet this beauty is mercurial and we must let it go, for it is already slipping away to be replaced by the new.” -Stuart Sovatsky }
YELLOW FIELD OF WHEAT
Angel of Death skims blacker than tar
a skeletal knock overturning bowl of oats
smelling of frankincense and ashes
to carry you to a yellow field of wheat
where you will dance radiant waltzes
haloed free
your laughter pranced across blue walls with
Michael Jackson, Spider-Man, cheeky elves
relishing Kentucky Fried Chicken as you
played scrabble with forlorn neighbour
bony body birthing revolutions of
roulette with green life and grey death
how you endured those precision needles
wanting to drum tapered fingers on
waiting desk overflowing with car sketches
your thirteen year old bald head smiling
veins on an enchanting spring moon as our
hidden tears crystallised hospital sheets
we tried to keep up with you scoffing
encyclopaedias, Dickens and muffins alike
cancer like a chess game mastered chemo
doctors and nurses becoming kings or pawns
time was now or endless pathos stalking minds
Laurel and Hardy keeping hearts unlocked
on Merlin’s star-patterned couch you will
jokingly converse with Pele and his team
soccer ball silent under quiescent table
my ink cannot pen sad lines as I feel
your lips still sucking dripping nipple
freedom moonwalks on a
yellow field of wheat
The Beautiful Game
Stepping on the field
This belongs to me
It is where
I am in control.
Long before I came here
I have prepared for this day
I reach down
Pluck the grass from the earth
Feel the energy of the moment
Nothing else matters now
It’s only about this
This is the beginning
The beginning of something great
Walk to the centerline
Turn and view the pitch.
The others who stand with me
In this battle
Prepared for what is to come.
I see the same in them
As I feel
No one else understands
They cannot share this
This is our fight
It is our moment
It is what we know
What we live for
The whistle sounds
Ball advances
It has begun
The Beautiful Game
THE GAME OF SOCCER!
Stadium overcrowded by
hooligans and fans
Cheering waving flags and
clapping their hands
Players on the field they’re
ready to start
There goes the whistle it pumps
up their hearts
Adding strength to the ball and
kicking it high
The ball travels overhead how
beautiful it can fly
Over center field and still it
goes strong
Pass received with ease and the
player runs long
There he goes for his
opponents goal
He dribbles through each player
he’s on a roll
He takes the shot and curves it
by
The keeper dives for it far and
high
The goalie misses it the balls in
the net
There’s a moment of silence
and no regrets
The winners jump for joy that
win was a must
Opponents heads tilt down low
they leave in disgust
A player’s life fulfilled is playing
world class
To be playing all year long on
the rich green grass
Play with heart, that’s the real
answer
Of how to play the true game of
soccer
I play keeper very fine.
When the ball comes it’s all mine.
Bam!! Goes the ball off the pole.
I just saved another goal.
Whack!! The ball has been shot.
It comes to me and I’ve caught.
You can try and try and try.
You will never get the ball by.
From the moment your foot first touched the ball
The look on your face said it all.
This is what you were born to do.
Growing up, you would continue to play, you just knew
Soccer wouldn't be ready for you.
Year passed, and so did you, as you became a star.
The training you've had would take you far.
How far you asked? Championship Game, here you came.
With a minute left, you shot the ball hard and upset.
But luckily, Whoosh! The ball exploded into the net.
The soccer ball thy shall kick to that place
where there is a net hung on the crossbar.
Thy shall play hard with my power and pace.
I take that free kick and score from afar.
Forwards and midfields need a lot of speed.
Without strength the body will take its toll.
There is one more thing these players will need.
The desire to shoot and score the goal!
The goalkeeper has to be very tall
to keep the ball out and to save the game.
He will need to get up fast if he falls.
The goalies job will always be the same.
As you can see soccer can be real tough.
To play you need to be quick or real buff.
The Big Game
It was that day
When I was afraid.
But became the man
with all of my fans.
I remember my fist goal
that hit one of the poles.
It was an one of those moments
to say I wasn't broken.
I brought all my skills
in my grill.
I bring it to my games
so I can win the fame.
Ever since I knew something.
I was SoccerBorn.