School Soccer Poems | Examples
These School Soccer poems are examples of Soccer poems about School. These are the best examples of Soccer School poems written by international poets.
I am adopted and a single child
having a stammer since pre-school
I also loved soccer to play and watch
at 12, I got to go to my first game, real cool!
This was fab to go on my own
for the very first time just me
a real sense of freedom I stood there
on the terrace standing tall as a tree
That was the first of many games
throughout lots of years
many victories among many defeats
the atmosphere and thrill tingle my ears
Looking back now to a special memory
that first day lies special in my heart
feeling that sense of security but free
this was to mould me in no small part
That day prepared me for future life
whatever struggles of life would face
the grounding I made then framed me
to lift myself over every hilltop without a trace
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.
For 2 long years, I really did try,
But every week I just seemed to be passed by.
But then suddenly on the noticeboard, I saw something quite untoward,
Suddenly my life was full of pride,
I'd finally finally made the side.
The other boys seemed to have a natural gift,
Between them and me there seemed to be such a rift.
But I've made it now and I'm full of cheer.
Hey, maybe I will be Captain next year.
A football memory
Just like football* i am very old
so if I may be so bold
this memory I'll unfold
each day,when school was out
off to a green,hereabout-
the teams often numbered seventeen!
with our jumpers as posts,
no boots ,referee or
coaches ,you'd see
back and forth we'd be
'til tired out,and ready for tea
*you call it soccer over the pond
A football *memory
Just like this sport I am very old
so if I may be so bold
this memory I'll unfold
each day,when school was out
off to a green,hereabout-
the teams often numbered seventeen!
with our jumpers as posts,
no boots ,referee or
coaches ,you'd see
back and forth we'd be
'til tired out,and ready for tea
*you call it soccer over the pond
He is marvelous when it comes to issues of development.
He has been named the nation`s hottest footballer at the moment.
In the field of play he outshines, dazzles and dribbles past opponents.
An inspiration, through his foundation, he pays school fees for students.
A philanthropic star midfielder who dribbled past poverty to prosperity.
A visionary, his academy is taking shape, it will propel others to immensity.
He plays as a central midfielder for English Premier League club Aston Villa
and the Zimbabwe national team. He plays with charisma and is a solid pillar.
He was an Under-13 player for Njube Sundowns before joining Bulawayo’s Bosso.
Since he excels, if football were music, Marvelous Nakamba would be a valiant virtuoso!
All goals
set down at schools
kicked down on the grounds
in soccer
Mm, the World Cup, and what it means to me
It's all about sportsmanship, as it should be
For me it goes away back to 1978
Aged younger than I'm now, but boy! I couldn't wait
To see my footballing hero that I'd read about in Shoot Magazine
Imaging as I read the paragraphs to be him was just a dream
Like him I was left footed and useless with my right
But boy, when I played my left was my write
From teens to growing older after said watching dreams
I'm so so much older watching their wilting realms
Mm, the World Cup, and what it means to me
It's all about sportsmanship, and what it did for me
13 - 07 - 2018 2018 World Cup Poetry Contest
Woe is us, we wretched Dyslexicons,
We visionary thinking paragons,
We the summer-school-room-dwelling patsies,
We the ostracized by Spelling Nazis.
(sorry, lied about the soccer)
repost inspired by Phil contest
Just like football* i am very old
so if I may be so bold
this memory I'll unfold
each day,when school was out
off to a green,hereabout-
the teams often numbered seventeen!
with our jumpers as posts,
no boots ,referee or
coaches ,you'd see
back and forth we'd be
'til tired out,and ready for tea
*you call it soccer over the pond
its season for this reason
frist break
of school new take
mabe you catch wall ball
THIS IS
THE FALL
A legend was sent
October 1, 1966
Far from above
To the nation of Liberia
While angels celebrate
He played with his peers
He grow up in the land
He tasted the bitter side of life
While great treasures
Lay silently in him
At the right times of life
Heaven directed him
With his legs
To kick the ball
In his yard,
In his community,
In his school,
And over continents of the world
He made his country name to be heard
He made his country to shine
The flag of the Lonestar weaved over nations
His name was sung in many languages
With great love for his country
His people has a portion in his heart
Hail the legend of soccer
A true son of Africa
Reconciling his people
Putting every tribe together
To eat the meal of peace
To enjoy the love of liberty
That brought us together
After school I went straight to the church yard
to play soccer dreaming of being another Rossi or Beckham...
oh, every teenager has this dream when playing that game,
trying to get through defense and get that goal to excite the crowd!
And it happened quite often, getting many handshakes
from players of the opposite team admiring my technic,
but some in my team, couldn't hide their envy as they heard those shouts!
Thanks to their resentment, I became more determined, not weak!
After graduating from High School, our team broke up;
we all went different ways, never putting those memories aside,
memories of that school yard where the balmy breeze made one feel alive!
Very sad was our goodbye: hugging and crying, wishing one another good luck.
I watched my son at his soccer game
Run away from the soccer ball;
I watched my son strike out four times
In his game of Little League baseball;
I watched my son at his football game
Sitting still on the end of the bench;
I watched my son dribble the ball off his foot
Helping the other team, the game to clench.
I watched my son at the holiday chorus
Never move his lips when the class did sing;
I watched my son at the school assembly
Not get an award for anything;
I watched my son at the science fair
Display a project that came out wrong;
I watched my son at his piano recital
Play a totally unrecognizable song.
I wake up every morning and thank the Lord
For making me such a proud Pop;
That boy of mine, wouldn’t you know,
Is a regular chip off the old man’s block.
34 years after leaving Rome
We track each other down
By means of the Internet,
Then catch up on the phone.
School buddies
Team mates, soccer fans.
Tico asked about my father,
“ Died” I said
His too.
We remembered them fondly
The spicy crackers my Father tricked him
To eat
Still burn in Tico’s mind.
Many memories were brought up,
His sailor cap
Watching whores at work
From the privacy of my balcony
More soccer facts…
We’ve exchanged our wives and kids photos
Our own,
Promised to see each other again
Keep in touch.
I wonder if it’s a good idea,
Why spoil better days
Now that I have a hernia.