Gaël Givet

Downtrodden he peers,
One brow always cocked higher than the other,
Like a minor character in
Madame Bovary.
But those Norman towns
Sun-swept in a ciderhaze
So far from Arles!
If he did not rise each morning
And to Brockhall go
He would surely be one of those
Perpetually anonymous caricatures -
The French peasant
Avec pitchfork, hay bailer, cap wearer,
Moleskin waistcoat too tight
Braces a-loosed.

Wand of a left foot

Like a scotch egg
Kicked half to death
Covered with a ketchup sash
It's Charlie Adam.

Dalglish Etheree

There
Was no
Need to come
Back to the league.
Special flickers like
The time you told Wenger
"It's a penalty, piss off."
But now you're the worst of them all
With your DVDs and your referees
Just leave it to Alex, it's been too long.

Sayonara Di Franceso (A Neopolitan Ghazal)*

To leave unrecognised, the stranger in the rain
His dreams unrealised, the stranger in the rain.

He stands humbled in the Parthenopean storm
Cheeks damp from tears he's cried, the stranger in the rain.

Those festive colours the yellow-red hold no cheer
A job by no one prized, that stranger in the rain.

He relied on loan signings, gifts from Udine
Short term he specialised, the stranger in the rain.

Looks back at Zeman let loose with his charge of old
By presidents chastised, the stranger in the rain.

He dreams of lacing up his boots again for Rome
Each loss he's penalised, the stranger in the rain.



*This poem is from the future, Eusebio Di Francesco has not been sacked (yet) and it has only proved that the ghazal form is of little use when it comes to satirical football poetry, who knew?