Homage to Adomah

adomah mid flow
a wind in the scarlet leaves
that stirs a whole crowd

Wot no picture?. The haiku IS the picture.

Let The Good Times Roll

Standing behind the Wedlock goal,
watching the barcodes in soft yellow in the rain
like they don’t want to get their kit dirty
against our red-blooded last-ditch knights
(until we let them back in at 2-1)
my daughter said it was the best game
of football she'd ever seen –
all four goals right in our faces,
smell of the turf, rage of the crowd,
ever-changing, undetached narrative
and the world at stake along the white line
for 90 minutes. Can't beat it.
Then alone by an internet radio for Barnsley,
hearing an early lead crumble to 2-1
and then surge to 5-2, the wish to be there
almost as strong as the old dread
that returns – albeit briefly - at 5-3,
I think ‘we’re staying up then’.
And now behind the goal at Peterborough, from top
to bottom in one week, on terraces
built fifty years before the Taylor report
and a thousand years before civilisation,
remembering nine bleak years in the small time,
recovering from the optical illusion of Maynard
in long shorts and socks rolled up in the warm up
as the red tights of a Prem primadonna,
watching a grey game burst into brief red life,
the players larger than life and closer than TV,
as Clarkson nods, winks and ghost-smiles at Hartley
and points at a spot the Posh can’t see
I say to the stranger next to me: ‘Clarkson to score!’
and he does, like it’s my birthday (which it is)
and like we’re too good for places like this (which we aren’t yet)
and start to dream again.












I thought this was the Atyeo?

Hullo again

Hi everyone (anyone?)

I've just posted off my July and August poems of the month for the main site to my webmaster. They should appear shortly. Apologies for the long lay off. In the long interim, I have slowly recovered from my calf injury (four months), got my first ever pair of reading glasses and (on 08 08 08) a jolly comfortable armchair in a sale. I have also got, on the second attempt, tickets to see Leonard Cohen. I have also watched dear old Dicky Attenborough confer an excellent University of Sussex degree on my daughter, celebrated that with some of the wildest and most beautiful girls in Brighton and had a haircut.

And City have won their first two games. Speaking of the latter, you can read my first poem of the season in the Bristol City versus Derby programme this Saturday. That's the first matchday mag poem for a couple of seasons. The next one will be celebrating Maynard's first goals for the club - a club once again being written off by everybody, I am pleased to see.

Despite my novel, SATs are still (a) in existence and (b) in the news for being a complete waste of time. If something's not right, it's wrong. Get rid of them and bring back proper teaching now.

I've also written two new books of poetry, one about King Arthur the other about a pilgrimage to Meher Baba. And completed my Cinderella novel about the 60s, Rubber Soul. Oh yes and marked over 700 A level papers. If you're celebrating your A level results tonight, have one for me.

All we need now is some sun. I'm off to Paris soon whether it comes or not. Paris ou il fait du soliel tojours, as we used to say in O level French class in Abersychan. With Ma Tucker, God bless her.

Slainte!

Sheer poetry!!!

Bristol City are promoted to the Championship.

Coca-Cola Football League One : Table 05 May 16:57 Home Away Team P W D L F A W D L F A GD PTS 1 Scunthorpe 46 15 6 2 40 17 11 7 5 33 18 38 91 2 Bristol City 46 15 5 3 35 20 10 5 8 28 19 24 85 3 Blackpool 46 12 6 5 40 25 12 5 6 36 24 27 83 4 Nottm Forest 46 14 5 4 37 17 9 8 6 28 24 24 82 5 Yeovil 46 14 3 6 22 12 9 7 7 33 27 16 79 6 Oldham 46 13 4 6 36 18 8 8 7 33 29 22 75 7 Swansea 46 12 6 5 36 20 8 6 9 33 33 16 72 8 Carlisle 46 12 5 6 35 24 7 6 10 19 31 -1 68 9 Tranmere 46 13 5 5 33 22 5 8 10 25 31 5 67 10 Millwall 46 11 8 4 33 19 8 1 14 26 43 -3 66 11 Doncaster 46 8 10 5 30 23 8 5 10 22 24 5 63 12 Port Vale 46 12 3 8 35 26 6 3 14 29 39 -1 60 13 Crewe 46 11 4 8 39 38 6 5 12 27 34 -6 60 14 Northampton 46 8 5 10 27 28 7 9 7 21 23 -3 59 15 Huddersfield 46 9 8 6 37 33 5 9 9 23 36 -9 59 16 Gillingham 46 14 2 7 29 24 3 6 14 27 53 -21 59 17 Cheltenham 46 8 6 9 25 27 7 3 13 24 34 -12 54 18 Brighton 46 5 7 11 23 34 9 4 10 26 24 -9 53 19 Bournemouth 46 10 5 8 28 27 3 8 12 22 37 -14 52 20 Leyton Orient 46 6 10 7 30 32 6 5 12 31 45 -16 51 21 Chesterfield 46 9 5 9 29 22 3 6 14 16 31 -8 47 22 Bradford 46 5 9 9 27 31 6 5 12 20 34 -18 47 23 Rotherham 46 8 4 11 37 39 5 5 13 21 36 -17 38 24 Brentford 46 5 8 10 24 41 3 5 15 16 38 -39 37

never tire of looking at it!

Arthur Milton (Poem of the Month, May 2007)

Arthur Milton.

(The Last Man To Play Football and Cricket For England. Played for Arsenal , Bristol City and Gloucestershire. He could also knock off the Telegraph crossword in the dressing room in 20 minutes.)

Denis Compton. Willie Watson, Arthur Milton.
Icons from an age of the gentle sportsman.
Graced the football/cricketing whites of England
On pitches they turned to the greens of Eden.

Now Arthur is dead, who just for one season
Graced the wing of a City pitched for promotion
And centred so sweetly – for Gentleman John
(His England team-mate) to score clean and strong.

Arthur (like John) was a craftsman
With hard ball too, an England batsman
Wielding willow like wand. Where have they gone?
These angel wingers with muddy shorts on?

These gods of the crease who retire to be postmen
And weighed so lightly the fields they scored on?
So rich in gifts, so poor in ambition,
Premier players unpampered by mammon.

Sleep well, old Arthur, God’s own Bristolian.
If we go up today, as we did in your season,
Give us your quick smile from sporting heaven.

City Go On The Attack

CITY GO ON THE ATTACK

(as broadcast today on Radio Bristol and published in the Western Daily Press)


08:00 - 27 January 2007

How many Os in Middlesb(o)rough?
Some people think there are two.
There's one - except this Saturday
A nought at the end will do.
But what will the City figure be?
What number will settle the score
With credits to Murray, Showunmi
Maybe? Just the one? Maybe two. Maybe four?

Gareth Calway, Bard of Ashton Gate

January Poem Of The Month

Sending Coventry

Put our first away win
For months on a pedestal
The goals went in
Bang! bang! like a pistol
Our attack like infantry
Their defence like crystal
We went to championship Coventry
And sent them to Bristol!

If Kipling Was At The Waca

"If Kipling Was At The Waca" was broadcast to the world, by an Indian woman broadcaster, at 2.15 on Saturday 16 December, with the correct pronounciation of Panesar's name. And Bristol City were 1-0 up v Millwall at the time...

December Poem Of The Month (Part IV)

Advent Calendar Selection Box

from Sheer Paltry

Bard Of Bristol

"You’re supposed to be at ’ome!!"

Standing in my team red before a game, yelling the chants - in and out of sync,
The main feeling is of being a complete fraud.
It's not that the team doesn't matter to me:
It matters enough to give me a heart attack.
It's just that, with only distant memories of 2-3-5 to fall back on,
I never really understand what's going on.
There are fifty blokes with a view I could ask from anywhere around me
But they each seem to be commentating on a different match.
And I live five hours from Bristol so it's hard to stay in touch.
And, however you market it, the match atmosphere is just like you get in a men-only garage -
Oily, reductive, ferociously competitive about everything and nothing-
Aggravated by six pints of booze and ten thousand men-brains,
The kind of thing I went to University to get away from.
If it weren't for the tightening in the stomach every match day,
The inferno of baying noise - purged by love and loyalty
(And comradeship and chantorion and cheer,)
The shiver of the perfectly pitched pass,
The tantalising tactical one twos, the toothsome tingling tackles,
The faith-affirming final ball through the box,
The frantic flash of foot through frenzied ball
The fluent flight of ball through air into flapping net,
The fabulous tapestry of red against blue over green,
The red knights tilting at perfection,
The pavilions of banners, pennants and scarves,
The child’s red and white Christmas of the goal consummations -
Then I probably wouldn't bother.

December Poem Of The Month (Part II)

Advent Calendar Selection Box

Kings Of The Forest

The Robins went back to the Forest
And did what they didn't before.
The robbers got two goals and two pens
The Robins the same and two more.
To go to the top-of-the-tree club
And sing out our victory song
Is brave and adventurous and merry
And shows us both plucky and strong.
This may be the day that the Robins
Proved to themselves they can be
The kings of the forest come April
And end it atop of the tree!