Can the undeniably lame
Play a hard football game
And it will still look the same?
Already, I’m suffering his shame
But see upon the brave lame
A thrust gigantic fame
And lips screaming his name
And discussing the amazing flame!
I myself shall God blame
For excellent legs he could claim
To with them FIFA balls tame
Leo Messi proving ‘A Real Dame.’
Age and a footballer
A lot I hold against Age:
It can the cheapest goals wedge,
The fortyish striker make a tired leg;
Final whistle of a match quick to beg,
The referee not afraid to bluff
For a first half long in rounding off!
A great deal I have against Age:
Many a thirtyish dribbler by the ball dribbled
And later when interviewed simply quibbled…
Big names you wouldn’t believe could lousily fall;
The signal to players to hang an advancing boot
Even as either pair still fits either foot.
A zillion things I know about Age:
How very similar it is to Restraining Cage
And some sort of brother to the slowest plague;
The while footballers are still in the race
Merely basking in God’s grace…
The many times one is featured in a tournament
Age patiently withholding its embarrassment
O Lord! Thou art my Coach
I shall never be defeated
Strengthen me for this game
As I humble call on your name
Invigorate my heart, mind and body
When I fall, pick me up and energize me
Grant me the tenacity to win every ball
And courage to stand whatever befall
Yea, though my opponents frighten me
Like roaring Lions out of their den
My great Coach always inspires me
Your pep talk! Your word! Uplifts me
Though fear and despair bites me
Like venomous snakes out of the shadow
My Lord is with me everywhere I go
You prepare a strategy to defeat my foe
When the final whistle is blown
And the team heads to the dressing room
May my Lord, the great Coach when He calls my name
Say “Gideon! You played like a Lion, you played the game”
And surely victory, glory and goodness
Will hunt me all the days of my life
And I shall look up to my Coach forever
Walking with me now and ever!
The Poet Preacher © 2014
Ps 18:39 My Coach has fortified me with strength [energy, power, strategy, capability] for the battle [big game, contest, combat]: He has subdued [vanquished, beaten, massacred, overpowered] my opponents.
The Famous Footballer
There is a great sorrow over Portugal a dark cloud
of tears, the great footballer Eusebio has died.
All the great and mighty in the Portuguese society
tell of their friendship with him, even the president
came out of his shell and declared three days wake.
When the great Nobel prize winner of literature
Jose Saramago died his departure hardly registered in
the papers...ok. So he wrote novels, big deal.
Eusebio da Silva born in Mozambique son of a railway
worker, was a friendly man, just the type of black man
white people like to patronize. Sadly there is a political
angle in this out pouring of grief, Mozambique is rich
and Portuguese industry needs their minerals and oil.
Spilling of tears can be advantageous
The money they get
for a ball in the net
more than you I bet
Oh, to be a footballer
Not ronaldo though, cheatin' faller
maybe Peter Crouch, but much much taller
Or Robin Van Persie
whose now greedy, little sign of mercy
wearin' a scummy red jersey
an' scorin' goals from chelsea to mersey.
I would be an honest player, of those there are few
to name for you just a bad two
look no further than terry or roo
but, they can play like a beast
when it's time to rise up like yeast
let fever pitch be unleashed
an' give us a thrillin' goal feast.
Some get called a fox
for their silky moves in the box
deft turns an' little knocks
I've lost so many socks!
but I don't care
I could breathe you like air
with pride would I wear
the shirt on my chest
for luck kiss it's crest
shout my team is best
let's go beat all the rest!!
©John-Ovan.P.Hull
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.