It's a perk of being a club official
I'm on the Team Coach today
On the way down to Winchester City
Third Qualifying Round drawn away.
They may be a division below us
But form goes out the door
The cup's a great leveller
So let's hope we don't play poor.
The form we're currently in
Should be far too strong
Without being too confident
What could possibly go wrong?
Hopefully come ten to five
I'll be grinning like a Cheshire cat
Alternatively there's the option
My weekend's gone totally flat.
With a bit of hope and luck
We'll go a few more rounds
Drawn in far-flung northern holes
Visiting weird places and grounds.
Another couple of victories
And this Trophy begins to tease
Imagine a visit to the arch
If we perform and don't freeze.
After today it's five rounds to Wembley
Stranger things have occurred
In truth I'm not sure what they are
Humour me and take my word.
I know it will never happen
But until we lose there's hope
In truth if we ever got to Wembley
I don't know how I'd cope.
I'd be shedding tears of emotion
Crying all through the game
Even if we went and lost six nil
My life would never be the same.
To see The Hamlet at Wembley
It only happens in my head
The fans of North Ferriby and Morpeth Town
I bet that's what they always said.
I know the chances are minimal
But I still dream every year
Until that moment we're knocked out
In my head it's all so clear.
That childhood dream I secretly cling to
A Pink & Blue Wembley Way
No matter how distantly impossible
I live life for that just one day.
Come three o'clock I'll be louder
An extra special cheer
We can do our bit like the players
Sat at the rear.
Twenty miles to Winchester
Two hours until the game
If we suffer a shock defeat
I'll only have myself to blame.
I was wearing my lucky socks
But are they on the wrong feet
Such a superstitious nature
Of fans all over
Our fault when we're beat.
But the inquest's for later
Cos I don't think we're going to lose
From where I'm currently sitting
In my 'Going to Wembley shoes'.
Dulwich Poet 27th November 2016
(I wrote this on the team coach to Winchester City, who we went on to beat in an FA Trophy third qualifying round, which is a 'mere' six rounds from the final next May, at Wembley Stadium. Five to go!)
Saturday 26 November 2016
Saturday 19 November 2016
"Spud-u-Like"
I'm in love with you dear potato
That's why you look like a heart
You'd look great on my dinner plate
I never want to be apart.
Boiled rather than plain
Still edible and nice
I'd have a gentle nibble
If you were on a bed of rice.
But you look your sexiest
Covered in green sauce
Double pie, mash & liquer
Perfect as a main course.
I still like you traditional
Sliced up for a main dish
Lashings of salt and vinegar
You can't beat chips with battered fish.
Or slowly baked in the oven
Covered in a cheesy melt
Never mind how fattening it is
You can always buy a new belt.
But you're not always my favourite
If covered in garnish and spice
Then you seem like an arsy spud
Dashing to the bog ain't nice.
But that's enough nastiness
It's time for my lunch
Perhaps you know what I'll have
From this poem you'll have a hunch!
Dulwich Poet 19th November 2016
(A mate posted a picture of a potato on Facebook. His missus thought it looked like a heart. He thought it looked like an arse. I thought it looked like a potato...)
That's why you look like a heart
You'd look great on my dinner plate
I never want to be apart.
Boiled rather than plain
Still edible and nice
I'd have a gentle nibble
If you were on a bed of rice.
But you look your sexiest
Covered in green sauce
Double pie, mash & liquer
Perfect as a main course.
I still like you traditional
Sliced up for a main dish
Lashings of salt and vinegar
You can't beat chips with battered fish.
Or slowly baked in the oven
Covered in a cheesy melt
Never mind how fattening it is
You can always buy a new belt.
But you're not always my favourite
If covered in garnish and spice
Then you seem like an arsy spud
Dashing to the bog ain't nice.
But that's enough nastiness
It's time for my lunch
Perhaps you know what I'll have
From this poem you'll have a hunch!
Dulwich Poet 19th November 2016
(A mate posted a picture of a potato on Facebook. His missus thought it looked like a heart. He thought it looked like an arse. I thought it looked like a potato...)
Friday 18 November 2016
"I'm Supposed To Enjoy Myself..."
Farewell 'Paper Tiger'
I won't read there again
Sitting on a late bus home
I'm picking up my pen.
I got to the venue at half seven
Now I'm on the 185 bus
Gone twenty past eleven!
I declined my chance to read
As time was getting short
I could've squeezed one poem in
That's what the comperes thought.
The night had over-run
With people gassing and hogging time
Worst were the rambling comperes
Which to me was a crime.
They're supposed to make things go smoothly
Sorting out times and the list
Instead of adding extra people
Plus the ones they've missed.
Is it too much to ask
To have my four or five minutes on stage
Is that really too difficult
So fucking hard to gauge?
This much disorganisation
For some it's part of the fun
Even though I enjoy other poets
For me this night is done.
It's going to be way past midnight
Before I get to bed
And that's too much of a sacrifice
When I've not even read.
I made the right decision
As I just caught this 'early' bus
Walking out of the door at the end
Without creating a fuss.
Sometimes these thing happen
But it's occurred before
Feel like I'm being taken for a mug punter
When the organisation's so poor.
My 'not turning up' won't be noticed
I'm sure I won't be missed
The night will still be popular
They'll always fill their list.
But for me poetry's a hobby
If I listen or read
And if I no longer enjoy it
This isn't what I need.
In truth it's not about reading
If I can't I don't care
But when I'm on a list and expect to
It's about timing and being fair.
So many other alternatives
All over our great city
I won't be let down by a 'Paper Tiger'
Which is a bit of a pity.
For Jason is a decent bloke
Kind with a warm heart
But this was too much of a shambles for me
So it's time for us to part.
I wish him well in his endeavours
And all he sets out to do
A man I'll respect for all he does
But with 'Paper Tiger' I'm through.
Maybe I'm too harsh
Cutting my nose to spite my face
But if I end up not enjoying it
I know I've been in the wrong place
Dulwich Poet 18th November 2016
(I went to a regular monthly poetry night, but it was a bit chaotic. People added to the list, despite being busy, others going over time, the comperes 'chatting' far too much. In the end it over-ran, not for the first time, and people were asked to cut short what they were going to read. They seemed surprised when I said I wouldn't bother at all...I scribbled this on the bus home.)
I won't read there again
Sitting on a late bus home
I'm picking up my pen.
I got to the venue at half seven
Now I'm on the 185 bus
Gone twenty past eleven!
I declined my chance to read
As time was getting short
I could've squeezed one poem in
That's what the comperes thought.
The night had over-run
With people gassing and hogging time
Worst were the rambling comperes
Which to me was a crime.
They're supposed to make things go smoothly
Sorting out times and the list
Instead of adding extra people
Plus the ones they've missed.
Is it too much to ask
To have my four or five minutes on stage
Is that really too difficult
So fucking hard to gauge?
This much disorganisation
For some it's part of the fun
Even though I enjoy other poets
For me this night is done.
It's going to be way past midnight
Before I get to bed
And that's too much of a sacrifice
When I've not even read.
I made the right decision
As I just caught this 'early' bus
Walking out of the door at the end
Without creating a fuss.
Sometimes these thing happen
But it's occurred before
Feel like I'm being taken for a mug punter
When the organisation's so poor.
My 'not turning up' won't be noticed
I'm sure I won't be missed
The night will still be popular
They'll always fill their list.
But for me poetry's a hobby
If I listen or read
And if I no longer enjoy it
This isn't what I need.
In truth it's not about reading
If I can't I don't care
But when I'm on a list and expect to
It's about timing and being fair.
So many other alternatives
All over our great city
I won't be let down by a 'Paper Tiger'
Which is a bit of a pity.
For Jason is a decent bloke
Kind with a warm heart
But this was too much of a shambles for me
So it's time for us to part.
I wish him well in his endeavours
And all he sets out to do
A man I'll respect for all he does
But with 'Paper Tiger' I'm through.
Maybe I'm too harsh
Cutting my nose to spite my face
But if I end up not enjoying it
I know I've been in the wrong place
Dulwich Poet 18th November 2016
(I went to a regular monthly poetry night, but it was a bit chaotic. People added to the list, despite being busy, others going over time, the comperes 'chatting' far too much. In the end it over-ran, not for the first time, and people were asked to cut short what they were going to read. They seemed surprised when I said I wouldn't bother at all...I scribbled this on the bus home.)
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