FOOTBALL POETRY

PIGGYBACK My father took me piggyback to the people's game. I felt the surge of the Gallowgate End beneath me like the sea roaring off Tynemouth. I sensed the solidarity of those football-mad days and my little heart swelled with a Magpie pride. Black and white love came to me early, inherited down life's straining seasons. The throbbing crowd lifted me over tough shoulders, the passion surging with me to the front where I could share the yearning dreams for just a little glory. Those terraces lit up, made the blue star glow. We young and thirsty Geordies learnt quickly to get drunk on the back of flowing football. I REMEMBER IVOR ALLCHURCH Golden Boy, I remember you made me queue with all the other Geordie lads in one straight line down the car park for your autograph. Patiently, one by one, you signed for us. A Swansea son, footballing gentleman, all those years ago, you impressed me with your calm consideration: a measured passer of dignity through generations. *Ivor Allchurch (1929 -1997) played for Newcastle United 143 times between 1958 and 1962 and scored 46 goals. 'DAZZLER' (in honour of Robert "Bobby" Carmichael Mitchell, 19/7/1924-8/4/1993)   Mine Host of the twinkling left foot, wing-raiding Scot, this Border Reiver was a man of magic, made full backs disappear. "Dazzler" we called him, he tied the ball to his toes, took it for a walk. Wor Bobby bobbing along, criss crossing patterns through flat defences. His waving hair streaked under the waves of "Popular Side" crowds: classic moments flickering on film, roars on a soundtrack, Cup goals laid on a plate. LEN IN BLACK AND WHITE(in memory of Len White, 23/3/1930-17/6/1994) Len White was a hammer. He rammed in goals like rivets into a ship. Len in black and white, belter of a heavy ball, whacker of leather bullets with crafty head and clever feet. Me and my old schoolmate Peter saw you lash the Wolves, sending a screamer through the posts to ignite Gallowgate and set the Magpies chanting. Uncapped hat-trick scorer, 153 goals merchant, you deserve a statue of your own, dedicated to the Skellow lad who became a Geordie and will always be.

SUN OVER ST. JAMES' PARK Sun sets on Empire, a football sinking in the sky. Dreams are gone, the kicks we had. I see their ghosts in The Strawberry night: Len White and George Eastham, Gordon Hughes and Liam Tuohy, Alf McMichael, Jimmy Scoular. Roaring Boys of one hue or another: Alan Suddick and Jim Smith, John McGrath and Dick Keith, Dave Hilley and Andy Penman. Stalwart lads from an industrial past, hold on to those memories. Golden Balls of light shine on the surface of The Tyne, ripple in the mind. Great times were had and peanuts tanner a bag. Swaying lads on the Popular Side, Oxo down our throats. Chuck us a cup, we're thirsty.

KEITH ARMSTRONG

These poems were published in the Newcastle United fanzine 'True Faith' as part of my poet-in-residence stint with the magazine.

 http://footballpoets.org/poets/keith-armstrong/