Sources: 1. Crewe Alexandra, Gresty Road, 2022 2. Fratton Park, 1980s 3. Various 4. Sheffield Wednesday, Hillsborough, 2022 5. Shrewsbury Town, The New Meadow, 2018 6. Plymouth Argyle, Fratton Park, 2016 7. Luton Town, Fratton Park, 2017 8. Accrington Stanley, Fratton Park, 2015 9. Cheltenham Town, Whaddon Road, 2022 10. Wycombe Wanderers, (Too many times to mention). 11. S*********n, Fratton Park, 1984 12. Most match days. 13. Tottenham Hotspurs, Wembley, 2010 14. Peterborough United, London Road, 2018 15. Brighton & Hove Albion, Fratton Park, 1976 16. Sunderland AFC, Roker Park, 1995 18. Tottenham Hotspurs, Wembley, 2010 19. S*********n, St Mary’s, 201020. For Graham Poll, Referee playing as the 12th man for Arsenal in his last match at Fratton Park, April 2007.
would we make up
n.b. NaPoWriMo 2022 Day Twenty-eight prompt; Concrete poem. I have to admit to having had such thoughts lately. Day twenty-eight of NaPoWriMo 2022, but day Sixty Three in Ukraine.
unseasonable warmth petite clouds white buds pinned to infinite blue fine grass blades grass by the millpond prick my pale winter skin my flat weight crumples daisies in cool shade of the willow’s weeping
tumble of the waterwheel low hum of bumble bees
with eyes closed I see all the birds I hear from within this sonorous wall soft notes a woman’s song
so tired so tired so tired
my head so heavy it cannot turn my eyelids stuck down by pinks and blues my arms so heavy they will not move my legs feel bound they cannot run my voice clasped tight within my throat I hear her singing
she sings of lilac yet to bloom
she sings of lambs not yet sprung
she sings of hedgerows nestlings yet to fledge
she sings of the stream yet to flood
she sings of oak still to leaf
she sings of the summer yet to burn
she sings of two lovers yet to meet
she sings of harvest we’ve yet to reap
she sings of apples we’ll collect
she sings of mists that will rise from dew
she sings of the plough that will tear the earth
she sings of crows that will draw in the night
she sings of frost that will veil the soil
she sings of the fireplace as autumn leaves
so tired so tired so tired
slowly I wake remembering how far I must go before I finally reach my home
n.b. NaPoWriMo 2022Day Twenty-five prompt: write an aisling.
Coops balanced against each other defying gravity along the embankment like sentry boxes facing south marking the entrance to Sunderland its beach in April offered a slice of Siberia Roker Park the taste of bitter defeat
n.b. NaPoWriMo 2022 Day Twenty-three prompt: a poem in the style of Kay Ryan. My kind of poem. I love April, when spring is vibrant, the weather cruel and football reaches its season end. This brief poem is based on a grim day out on 11th April, 1993, but hey, Sunderland stayed up that year, which was nice, for them.
One of the darker months The phone rarely rang Her typewrite ribbon fresh The keys unimpressed Cartridge paper laid in the tray Gathering a carbon copy of dust Once the post was checked Orders filed and queries placed in pending She'd roll the chair under its desk Lie on the floor And sleep
Next door, under neon I sat each day Writing out lists of prospects From Kelly's Directory and Kompass Industrial estate after industrial estate Postcode by postcode For the territory salesmen Occasionally compiling a report about small electrical domestic appliances Or drafting the blurb that would sell Slow cookers, steam irons, sandwich toasters I turned up most days Before the news of Lennon I couldn't imagine
She and I spoke so rarely I forgot her name, she mine The thin-windowed false wall Partitioned us Her with perpetual weariness Me with accumulating grief I wonder still What brought us together?