Recognition & thanks for poems by Simon Icke UK- author and publisher used with permission of the author.

Touchline Shouting
Touchline shouting, that's all I ever hear,
I'm so confused and filled with fear
I'm only 10 years old and football should be fun
But with all this noise I don't know which way to run
"Get back in defence!" my manager shouts
Dad shouts, "Get up front and deal with these louts!"
Loud mouth supporter, who knows all the rules.
 (He takes the rest of us for fools)
Shouts, "What are you doing lad? Your head's in a spin!"
Is it any surprise, with all this din?
I am only a boy, so why do you all try to destroy, what I'd love to enjoy?

FOOTBALL SHOULD BE FUN!
This poem is dedicated to all old grumps in every road, avenue and street who has forgotten that they were once a child and played in the street.
Imagine in the old days before 'Football Schools of Excellence' etc existed.....How would the likes of Denis Law, Bobby Charlton , Stanley Matthews and George Best of learned their skills if they had been banned from kicking a ball in the street? 
THE SOUND OF CHILDRENS FEET
Down our street it's ever so neat,
You rarely hear the sound of children's feet.
Tidy gardens and pretty flowers,
No factory chimneys or towers.

Commuters who come home in their company cars,
That look at us as though we're from mars.
We are supposed to be seen and not heard, Dare we not say a word?

They don't want us to be normal kids playing skating
                            and
               Football in the road.
  Maybe it's because they are getting old?

Have they forgotten what it's like to be a child?
Expecting us to be so meek and mild.
Did they ever kick a ball in the street or
Make the sound of children’s feet?

 

DAY AND NIGHT
Football, football, day and night,
I think about it so much, it gives me a fright.
I might play for Man U or England,
Or I just might kick a ball,
Just me and the wall.
I play football a lot,
So I do 25 kick-ups on the spot.

Football, football, day and night,
I'm going to be a professional,
I will, I will,
I con see it happening,
Yes, I can.
"Beckham to Alley, Alley to Giggs, Giggs to Alley,
Alley takes a shot. What a goal!"

Football, football day and night.
Football, football is always right.

THE COACH FROM HELL
The team huddles in the changing room,
Shivering from head to toe,
A couple of minutes before the match
It begins to hail and snow.

That's when it happens,
The thing we all dread,
In walks the Coach from Hell,
His name is Coach Fred.

He makes us train in wind and rain,
Although we make a fuss,
This is Fred the Coach from Hell,
Feel sorry for us

GOAL!
I want to play in the school footy team,
That is my greatest dream.

The only trouble is ...
I don't want to be captain,
It's too much fussing and flapping,
I tried to play in mid-field,
But tripped - and my cut hasn't healed.
I played in attack,
And nearly broke my back.
I want to play in goal,
If I don't, it'll destroy my soul,
So I just sit and watch,
Eating popcorn and butterscotch.

The team walked onto the pitch,
In white and blue,
The goalie slips on some dog poo,
Fell over a cat,
And broke his back,
He couldn't play.
"Don't worry," I cry,
"I will try,
To be your goal keeper now."
"You're not in the right clothes,
But I suppose, no-one knows,
If you change the kit,
A little bit."

I played that day,
Hooray, Hooray,
I got my dream that day,
Everyone was saying,
"Look how brilliant he can play,
He stops every ball his way."
From that day on,
To every game I've gone,
And played in goal for the school.

YOUNG VERSUS OLD
Down our road it's young versus old
Us boys don't want to play with toys.
We want to play football and make a noise.
We're fed up of being told off by the old,
I wonder if they ever played football in the road?

How can we ever make it, if we don't have the chance to fake it?
We want to pretend we're Arsenal, Man U or Chelsea.
Or whoever we wannabe!
Old man , if only you'd come and see
Us boys playing football down our road.

Please don't try and stop us, cause you're old!
Family Holiday


It's the time of year for the family treat,

time to leave our little street.

Stopped the milk, stopped the papers,

don't forget to tell the neighbours.



The car is packed to the hilt;

it looks as though it's on a tilt.

On the motorway in a jam,

this is no way to get a tan!



Bed & Breakfast or Self Catering?

Which holiday will you be taking?

Mum's not cooking anymore;

she wants a break from family chores.



On the beach, jump in the sea,

there's lots of fun for you and me..

Sandcastles to build, shells to collect,

catch a crab in your net.



Tall and thin, short and fat,

'Surely I don't look like that?'

'Where's my hat? My head is burning!'

It's the same each year, you are never learning!'



Promenading in the evening,

be careful, what you're seen in.

Boy catches the eye of a lovely girl;

enough to send his heart in a twirl.



People watching, happy faces.

Chatter, chatter in so many places.

Old people sat in deck chairs,

remembering the fun of youth,

at seaside fairs.



Two weeks are up; it has gone so fast,

I thought it was too good to last!

Say goodbye to friends you've made

and don't forget to forget to take home,

your bucket and spade.'

 

SOME OF THESE POEMS ARE DEDICATED TO SILLY PARENTS WHO DO NOT ENCOURAGE THERE CHILDREN TO PARTICIPATE IN A FAIR AND PROPER MANNER.
UNFORTUNATELY THEY AREN’T SET A GOOD EXAMPLE BY THERE SO CALLED COACHES. SO ONE OR TWO OF THE POEMS ARE ALSO DIRECTED AT COACHES.

SIT UP AND TAKE NOTE COACHES