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pri Oct 2018
i am one of those girls.
today, my hair waves softly,
and looks exactly right.
today, my shirt was tied exactly right,
so you could barely see the soft skin beneath.

today, i left.
i walked away from a pedestal
-yes, i would have been good,
yes, i loved it.
yes, i was amazing.

yes, i was tired and
couldn’t do it anymore.

i stand in the rain today,
on walkways where wet orange leaves are plastered to the ground.
i sit inside, scratching my pen on soft paper,
watching the sky darken grey and cold.

i am one of you.

i am the girl, standing on the bleachers with her eyes to lights.
it is friday night.
i am the girl who wears her school’s shirt,
on leggings and with pride.
i am the girl, who relaxes,
stands guard at the pool.
i am the girl who does her homework,
and always asks questions.

i am lost. i miss this,
the glory and the feeling. i miss being that good.
but i am content, my heart is at ease.

and don’t worry, the world’s still gonna know my name.
Glenn Currier Sep 2018
My buddy the quarterback said to go long
music to my ears the chorus of my song
I could easily outrun all the puny secondary –
the guys from one block over on wealthy Dewberry.
We were all better at football on Lillian Street  
beating the crap out of those guys was oh so sweet.

Now mulling my interests, passions and such
I wonder why I love football so much
what with a life of writing, thinking and teaching
my football mania seems a tad overreaching
but still my arm flexes watching that heaver
connect in a perfect arch with his swift receiver.

Being Cajun in Texas where sports are king
probably explains something of why I’m so keen
and my pulse quickens as I remember
the neighbor boys’ shouts and calls in September
to meet them in our favorite autumn spot
down the street in that vacant lot.

Most of my life I’ve gone for short passes
connected with ideas and English classes
no novel for me, I fell for poetry
nor did I brave the rigor of a PhD.
Now finally, with my scores of years its not so wrong
to watch, leave it alone, wait a while, and go long.
I hope the European and futbol readers will forgive this American take on our version of a similar sport.

I couldn't go to sleep last night after watching the Bengals beat the Ravens (recording), so here I sit at 4:15 am just finished with this poem. It became almost biographical I suppose, but as I tried to sleep I got this image of racing to catch the long ball as a teenager and that vision would not let go. I'm tired now, ready for sleep. I hope it was worth the effort and you enjoy it half as much as I liked writing.
pri Sep 2018
have i ever told you how your music sounds
-on soft sunday september mornings?
my apologies.

i imagine the world wakes up,
and expects there to be soft frost on the windows.
in reality, the leaves have barely begun to turn sunset colored.

we play soft jazz, something like, and waltz around the room.
we wrap our hair above our heads,
watching it droop ever so slightly until it’s puff is silken soft and messy.

and wait, until it comes time to run to school,
in those sweaters and jackets, to feel so a part of life,
jumping and dancing on cold aluminum bleachers.

the strangest thing is that i feel so close to you
-we can become the girls of dances and games and skates,
highschool sweethearts.

idly, i wonder if this strange sunday september morning
has made me wonder this,
because the music that plays in my ears seems to say yes.

it’s an ode to these girls of legend, the ones we define our lives by,
come together to watch, and slowly,
dance to the music and twirl.

also, did i mention, it’s a little dark,
because those sun rays i used to so love have truly run out and become outdated,
and the music becomes slower and turns into bright friday night lights in the dark.
inspired by the brobecks (check them out!!) and the coming of fall.
Jack L Martin Sep 2018
You want me to wear
logos in my hair
and purchase
the matching scarf?

A billboard for sale
at the human scale
Sporting your brand
Oh, what a larf!

Go Team Go!
Print on a throw
For the low price
of fifty-four dollars

I'd rather be happy
not buying your sappy
stuff that you sport
on your collars

you tell me to buy
because i'll look fly
and fill up my closet
with swagger

Believe when I say
not one single day
I'll fall to the dance
of your dagger!
We are walking, talking billboards.  How much does the NFL pay you to advertise their brand on your body?
Aa Harvey Sep 2018
This is my Blood Bowl.


Thank you Games Workshop for giving us Blood Bowl;
I’ve played it all my life and I’ve completely re-written the rules.
It allows my imagination to run wild carrying a sword,
Attacking all sorts of creatures, whilst playing American Football.
It has magic, magic items and you may think it’s just for kids;
But without Blood Bowl,
I wouldn’t have imagined half of the things that I did.


People need a release from the real world;
Mine is found on a football pitch in the game of Blood Bowl.
People cheat, steal and bribe referees and do almost anything.
If you give this game to your kid,
They could imagine the impossible
And some day, maybe, write random poetry like me!  He, he.


…And now down to the pitch to see the kickoff!...


The humans line up against the bad boy orcs;
The dwarfs and elves are in support.
Chaos lords and chaos spawn (twisted creatures);
Rain down pain and death on the undead and the living.


The undead walk slowly, the goblins flee!
Rat Ogres and trolls are invading the pitch!
The referee blows his whistle to send the giant off!
The deadly dark elves chop the referee’s up with chainsaws,
Or use swords and axes, grenades and clubs.
They are all fighting to win the B.B.C. cup.


The Blood Bowl Championship;
It’s like the NFL Superbowl trophy.
I’ve made leagues and cups
And every single thing possible, just for fun; just for me.


The Official Blood Bowl Organization,
Try to make all weapons illegal, but oh no, no, no!
This is the sport of death!  
This is Blood Bowl!


Use spells and magic items and cause suffering;
The tiny snotling is beaten by the little Halfling.
The ***** in there somewhere, though nobody cares;
The Beastmen are just here to fight,
Whilst the gnomes laugh at the high elves hair.
Such pampered fools, in love with themselves;
Vanity and self-love?  That must be the elves.


Here comes a chaos dwarf, driving a steam roller;
He flattens the Fimir and another vampire.
The zombies are clueless and one fumbles the ball,
Before he is decapitated, by the Reikland Reavers’ Mighty Zug!


The ghoul’s are hungry for blood;
Here come the orks, the band of goffs.
Crazy *** gitz, just having a laugh.
Here are the sneaky Skaven to stab someone in the back.


Amazonian women are running around screaming,
Like the banshee’s and all sorts of scary demons.
The Sisters of Battle are from the future;
A bear charges at a Treeman and look!  There’s a little Gnoblar.


Giant bats, giant snails, giant rats and giant eagles,
Giant leeches, giant frogs, giant spiders and giant scorpions.
The norse are Vikings, (ranked titles include kings);
There’s a termagant from the year 40,000 and something.
There are space marines, and space wolf marines,
All armed to the teeth with weapons.


The genestealer’s steal genes to make new creatures/weapons;
There are evil gnomes, evil ewoks, ewoks and evil Treemen.
Lesser demons fight lesser goblins and run from the Lictor!
The werebear’s and werewolves fight the wolves and Saurus creatures.
There is no victor.


The skinks fire poisoned blowpipes at the Large beasts & minions.
Chaos Halflings beat up people on camels and horses
And they beat up Khemri with anything.
Mummies climb out of their crypts to bring death to the mutants;
The slayers are here to bring down the mighty bone giants.


The noble Brettonians see Blue and Pink Horrors running around;
Tyranids, Tyranid warriors and tyrants send people underground.
Dead now in this game of Blood Bowl; the game of death!
Witch elves are being hunted by Witch Hunters;
There’s only three left.


To the right is a Zoat fighting a huge Yeti.
A chaos human rides a chaos horse; look out Goddess Betty.
Greater demons bring down Griffons and **** the crazy monkeys;
The mushlings and snotrooms are simply fleeing and screaming.


Skeletons on skeletal horses, fight salamanders and satyrs.
Jabberwocks and Juggernauts,
Destroy Hydra’s with the Hydra’s own fire.
Chaos Warriors and Chaos human cowboys, slug it out with Gods;
Norse dwarves fight Nurgles rotter’s and nurgling’s fight ogres.


The slann were the originators of the game of Blood Bowl;
The Ushabti Tomb Kings come from Khemri to fight the robotic Tau.
Vostroyan drunks are fighting with Wood elves.
Oh my God!  That troglodyte really does smell!


Warhounds race Gladehounds and cyborg’s fight cyboar’s;
Big cats include tigers and lions, so we must quickly carry on.
A carrion is an undead bird and they are ****** huge!
The imperial guard are like the rebels in Terminator;
They are humans.


Kroxigor’s smash boney clubs & break Kroot’s predator-like heads;
Kislevite Horsemen and Cowboy’s ride horses onto the pitch.
Night goblin’s and forest goblin’s steal from all including the Eldar.
They are elves of the future and there are chaos space marines…

They have travelled far.


Every creature has come to take part in this game of football.
Its American football with death included; it’s so much fun!
Harpy fly above Haradhrim as a Necron breaks his own jaw;
He fell over when dodging the tomb scorpion’s claw.


Thrall and Wights march to battle on the pitch against the living;
Undead champions are leaders of death
And the minotaur’s eat the dead.  
Nobody knows who is winning.
Chimera and other daemonic beasts are really tough to ****, I see;
But that boar just exploded, thanks to the grenade…
Bye life, hello death; he, he.


Elementals are like Gods of earth, wind, water and fire.
Dragon ogres are going to **** anything that gets in their way!
Dreadnoughts are made to ****; there’s a wolf!
This undead one’s dire.
Dryad are small Treemen; there are some Elite Skaven!
Open fire!


Savage orcs fight sea elves as squig hopper’s bounce past randomly.
Ungor’s are little Beastmen, but there are still quite deadly.
Manticores destroy lizardmen and there’s a blood-soaked cold one.
Bull centaur’s charge at black orc’s,
Who are ganging up with a chaos champion.


Centaurs crash into carnosaur’s,
As Dark eldar fly down from their space ships.
Hobgoblins can’t be trusted; the thieving gits!
Orc leaders are warlords, bosses and big bosses too;
The Redemptionists are the priest from aliens 3 or aliens 2.
Whichever I can’t remember and haven’t got time to look;
Oh yeah let’s watch the game again and see who has got the ball.


Golem!  (phlegm!)  Golem!  No; not that one!
These golems are Flesh golem’s and some are made of stone.
They are creature of magic and are here to smack some heads;
And this is the end of the poem…

Dedicated to Games workshop (thank you) and the sport of death!


(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
pri Aug 2018
i can hear them now -those sirens, those bells,
and all the girls in our uniforms, hollow and brave,
and how we sometimes feel so alive, and sometimes so, so tired,
those ones who ask questions, and the ones who just leave,
and we’re both of those and we’re so brave,
and i think our eardrums are going to break.

every night, pick me up and we’ll go home,
but oh wait sweetheart, we can’t because we’re so young and so ******* busy.
like i said -i’m dying but i’ve never felt more alive, more happy,
or more tired. life has never been like this
-and i love these dreams, because right now they're blowing my way
did i also mention i love you?
i love you.

you know, you know, each hug is fragile,
broken glass shattering and putting itself back and becoming beautiful,
and thats me. you’re all soft words, and eyes like mine but all the more cunning,
but you’re braver than you know, and you’re a mystery.
and with every touch, i think of what would happen if we were hungrier,
that maybe, if we were hungrier we’d solve that mystery,
or i’d solve you.

always, always so worried. too worried to make a masterpiece,
but somehow you say i’ve made masterpieces of words, and i’m waiting for yours,
but i think you’re unlucky, because even though i’m so afraid of my muses,
they drive my hands, my brushes, my pens, these things that make you softly open your mouth,
and oh how i want to trace those lips. i wonder if you want to trace some other girl’s lips.
because there is no way you love me the way i might love you.
if i love you. i’m so lost in this.

more than anything, i think, i’d want something for myself.
so many muses, so many friendships, so many lovely people,
but yet all i want is only another kind of love. your kind. because you know what we could be?
every night, i’m trying to spend more and more time with you.
and if we were ever next to each other, i’d like to hold hands and gaze at the stars with you.
oh no -i’ve said too much. i wish with all my heart (futilely?) that you know who you are,
please tell me.

and these sirens keep sounding in my head, and i’m wondering if i’m losing my life,
because we should have each other, at those games, with those hollow brave girls,
with those dancers, and alone to dance to our own songs, and in our words.
we’d write each other, or perhaps you’d draw me, i’ve always wanted that.
anyway, this is just another schoolgirl’s dream becaue she should be focusing
-but she knows she needs something to do other than focus, someone to love,
and right now, it’s you.
inspired by my crush and this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uD4mKy7yi3w&list=RDuD4mKy7yi3w&start_radio=1
Aniq Ahmad Aug 2018
I started watching football when I was eight

At that moment I had everything to hate



The next day I went with the squad

I played with a poor morale



Than as the time passed by

People said Ronaldo in Madrid is *****



Than as the Manuel Neur got the fame

Messi got him chipped later in the game



In June they compared Andre Gomes with James

For real? Thats just lame



Merle said "Football players are like prostitutes"



They said "Giroud comes to show off his beard"

Footballers like Yahya dont even drink beer



While some footballers go to the club when they hit the big time

Tottenham striker said "He cant remember going to a club last time"



Bayern Munich bailed out Dortmund with a loan in the past

Oil money of PSG on Neymar gave me a flabbergast..
The uniVerse Jul 2018
I wore my England shorts today
as a form of camouflage
so that I could remain at large
amongst the crowds of yobs
it's amazing how they can afford so much beer
without having jobs

a group of them approached
asked if I had a light
I said I never smoked
but there's a torch app on my phone
which is pretty bright

then one of the three
roared at me
It's coming home!!
to which I didn't reply
as I went back to my phone
afraid it was some form of mating cry
I realise that some outside of England won't understand this poem completely however it seemed culturally relevant to write during the mass hysteria of the world cup.
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