- 閱讀權限
- 90
- 最後登錄
- 16-1-20
- 精華
- 0
- UID
- 82666
- 帖子
- 32752
- 積分
- 127
- 註冊時間
- 03-6-26
- 在線時間
- 5834 小時
- UID
- 82666
- 帖子
- 32752
- 積分
- 127
- Good
- 1295
- 註冊時間
- 03-6-26
- 在線時間
- 5834 小時
|
POEMS FROM THE REDS' OFFICIAL CLUB POET
As revealed recently on Liverpoolfc.tv, the club have appointed Liverpool John Moores University student Cheyelle Omar as their official poet. Here is a selection of her first submissions.
bombed out churches.....a poem for Hillsborough
On the fifteenth of April nineteen-eighty-nine I died.
Death as cold as new headstones in perpendicular lines.
Which beloved physician could render me alive again?
Prevent me falling down, down into grief's paring light,
explain how to repair my mind? -- A tracery of red veins.
Mend me if my façade of strength should be a lie,
heal my broken heart when it beats and belies I died,
at 3:06 as the bombs hit, and real and surreal collided.
In among the rubble and ruins of my loss of lives,
pinnacles of hope traverse the graveyard of my mind.
When I see us joined together like churches are to time,
in silver grey daylight and from the corner of my eye,
on the bold streets of town, where I glimpse you realised
in fragments: your frame, hands, skin, hair, gait, smile
and then your scent and for a moment, all seems right.
Right until again I wonder why? How could I have died?
I have ninety-six reasons why I cannot fall to pieces,
why I too should stand at the mercy of the seasons.
In this great city, where bombed-out churches remind
us that clock chimes stop, and stained glass blinds,
and even when only, a shell embraced by ivy is left behind.
It still stands defiant, resplendent and its form defies
us ever to forget, deny or surrender to words like good-bye.
So no, perhaps I did not die when you died. I honour your life…
Because I am the monument –- that proves love survives
whispers....a poem for the rest of our season
Every blade of grass has its Angel that bends over it and whispers, 'Grow, grow.' THE TALMUD
When you're second or third, but you've got the taste for first,
it's then that you're in the realms of Angels and Liver Birds.
When people congregate to elevate you higher and Higher,
that's when to believe in something bigger than your own desire.
When you're loved, more than you ever dreamed you could be,
spare a thought for the lost, the lonely and Eleanor Rigby.
When you know you're innocent and those in power are wrong,
be quiet, yet in silence grow stronger, playing a longer game.
When you are a part, of probably the best club in the world!
Perfect your art and sacrifice your ego for the greater good.
When whisperers cast doubt over your ability. Turn the tables,
be able to let those unfounded fables be drowned out by Angels.
When you're on the inside of a click, always question it.
The hardest trick in this imperfect world, is to be nice.
When you win medals like war heroes, recall those loyal souls,
who believed in you, Kopites whose names you'll never know.
When fit as a flea, expect injury, but know you wont be beat,
just like the bombed-out church at the top of Bold Street.
When you've been bestowed with five gold stars around your name,
then imagine the celestial Milky Way and vow to do it all again.
When ninety-six people die and dark storm clouds form a shroud.
Light an eternal flame in your heart by saying each name aloud.
To be the best, invest in seeds of wisdom whispering angels sow,
be strong enough to bend and like a blade of grass... grow, grow.
Birdsong....a poem to celebrate our semi-final victory
Once upon a time, a red Liver bird slew a Blue lion.
Swooped and flew through the beast's weak den walls,
a wing span casting shadows, over Roman's double talk.
The mighty mythical bird pushed forward, ignored roars,
snatched glory, from beneath the big cat's golden claws.
A hard, bloody fight, won by a goal as soft as kitten paws!
As the beaten beast's blue blood imbrued the red devil's home,
the last birdsong the lion ever heard, was You'll Never Walk Alone. |
|
樓主: 奧雲仔仔
發表於 06-4-25 08:35 PM
發表於 06-4-25 09:26 PM
發表於 06-4-26 05:37 PM