Hunger

Four walls and a roof

but a cupboard full of dust.

TV and internet,

but no teabags, bread or milk.

Wardrobe full of shirts,

but no job to wear them for.

Friends who listen and care

but my stomach rumbles so.

*****

Watch and Pray

See the modern dance on the holy-watered turf,

the yells and the pacing of the track-suited coach,

the oomph of the ball as it leaves a players foot.

Praise for the keeper as he leaps like he is winged;

Joyous with the crowd as, in unison, we sing.

*****

This heart pumps with football, calcio, soccer, fútbol.

Tiki taka, gegenpress, attacking time or park the bus.

The chips and the flicks, the backpass and the headers.

Goals from playmakers, strikers and full backs;

last second scrambles and off the line clearances.

*****

Match of the Day fanfare, the gaffes of Kris Kamara,

the transfer speculations and the youthful revelations.

Eye-watering sums for unknown journeymen.

It’s red versus blue, king versus country.

The dreams come true because a team knows how to dance.

*****

Time for the weekend ritual of praying to a ball.

An armchair is the prayer mat where we cry, cheer or jeer.

We live for the derby, the championship fight,

cup winning nights and relegation plights.

We keep our faith win, lose or draw

It’s in our blood, no matter the score.

*****