I have been listening to the owner of Hull City wishing the supporters dead and it reminded me of the most important reason not to change the unique name of Hull City. I wrote this poem on a famous day in 2009 when Hull City stayed in the Premiership the first time. Couple of echoes from famous Humberside poets.
This is a confusing city
Low and dull and not very pretty
Hull F.C. is one of the rugby teams
And much more here is not as it seems.
Really Kingston-upon, which you could colour in
but beware here that would be considered a sin.
Hull City were just plain boring
Woken at Boothferry Park by the sound of your own snoring
Dreaming one day of glories to come
Pull another splinter from your bum
Dull kit and the book says a real crap town
Says its amber but really just dull brown.
Phil Brown is, however, an Orange chap
Sometime speaks sense, but also crap
Less Tigerish just more gibberish
Black and Amber but gone now the smell of fish
Largest city never in the Premiership
Fortunes are now high but could still dip.
First time ever they’ve reached the top
and on the last day may still beat the drop
Man United end their league campaign at the KC
but there are other places they’d rather be
Eternal city on the Via di Trigoria to remain
Instead by the tide of Humber would complain.
This is a special way of being afraid
but good news from Villa is being relayed
Fitting for so smart and gleaming a KC
Only there by the White phone box legacy
Like these, the whole city needs colouring in
But remember here, paints in the bin!
But don’t be found with a felt pen
Not allowed for women, children or men
Not at the Boulevard or New Craven Park
Neither in daylight or worse after dark
Careful a whole city’s feelings to injure
No crayons please on the Land-of-Green-Ginger
To coincide with the 2013 Rugby League World Cup matches hosted in Hull in October and November,
Hull Central Library and Write to Speak recently ran a series of free workshops under the banner of
Try Reading Poetry, culminating in a special performance at the launch of the Humber Mouth literature festival 2103.
Presented by performance poets Joe Hakim and Mike WattsRead more...
Poetry - Watching Rugby in East Park By Julie Corbett
I stand with the home supporters
St. John’s Ambulance, those injured and the passionate unselected.
They keep up a commentary
Weaving plays with banter – wide –
use your flanks, butter fingers, up
and under, ref? is 'is 'ead still on ref?
Poetry - England ...This is your time ... By Robert Eunson
The two front rows are like buffalos
The hooker's like a bloodhound on heat
The centre half's built like a horse and cart
And the full back... he's called Pete
The rest of the pack they stand...unfazed
like rhino's waiting for the rampage...
There's tension and nerves before the game begins but
when they put on the shirt they won't care if it hurts Read more...
Poetry - Salute From A Fan By Patricia Gray
I've always loved the rugby games
I know all of the positions and some of their names
I like the team spirit, the speed gets my attention
It's a simple game with no pretention.
I admire the players - one stated aim;
To score the points and win the game
With strength and agility they run the field
With team ship and ability they'll never yield Read more...
Poetry Up North It's Grin By Michael Wood
In six days the world was created,
On the seventh came demarcation lines,
One of these is a stretch of hills,
Famously known as the Pennines,
They separate men from madmen,
They divide the east from west,
The White Rose from the Red Rose, Read more...
Poetry In the Car, Thinking Rugby OR In the Shower, Panicking By Jessica Leathley
What’s it about, this rugby? What does it mean to me?
I don’t understand it, I don’t know the rules
I don’t know the names or the words or the teams.
Is it Union or League I ask and I ask.
League Jess League! The exasperation shows.
Airlie Birds, Robins, Warriors, Bulls
What do they mean? What are those? Read more...
Poetry Stroke City By Ernest Jackson
Culture in Derry stroke Londonderry
Defeated ancient divisions stroke splits:
RC stroke CE and Irish stroke Brits.
Quarrels too old to forget stroke bury.
Culture in Hull stroke Kingston upon Hull
Developed through few stroke many a year
Uniting the Roundhead stroke Cavalier:
People whose bird is the pigeon stroke gull. Read more...
Poetry East and West By David Thompson
I came to cross the great divide,
That stops the traffic at high tide,
With border guard who glowered down,
At anyone from east of town,
'Across this bridge you shall not pass,
You come from Rovers land alas', Read more...
Poetry Respect By Catherine Scott
The atmosphere is buzzing at the KC ground
There is an absolutely terrifying cacophony of sound
The crowd want to see a hard fought match
On their very own turf, their very own patch
The teams run on and they all shake hands
Sing National Anthems as tradition demands
They fall out of line and take up position Read more...
Poetry The Homing Poet By Pamela Scobie
After a night revisiting your greatest triumphs,
I left you outside with the bins.
They called from the landfill.
Would I collect?
You were discommoding the migrant workers.
By chucking in the defunct spin-drier, Read more...
Poetry - Rugby Kids By Alan Padwick
When we were kids we played rugby in the street
no posts, no grass and only sandshoed feet.
Sometimes we had an egg shaped ball,
at other times a sphere.
But we were tough and we played rough,
and most of all we had no fear. Read more...
Poetry - Reprisals in Ulster By Patrick Henry
Now, when the worst clashes and scores looked settled.
The Agreement signed. Another loaded term.
As all troubles hinged on ways how letters sounded.
The old tongue once banned. Hidden orders, passed in that tone.
While loud verbals of ruling powers held the streets;
And seethed hateful, in those kept low, out to bog land parts; Read more...
Poetry - The Curse of Shyness By Dayne Coyne
You never seem to notice
No matter what I try to do
You never seem to notice
The way that I’m burning inside for you
Well, though I’ve tried a-dreaming
And I’ve tried a-scheming
Poetry - Welcome To Hull By Robert Eunson
Hull ...Where you can go bird watching down Preston Road ... and you're absolutely certain to see The Greater Spotted Chav ... in abundance.
Hull ... Where you can still go down Walton Street market and buy your granny a secondhand set of false teeth ... for less than a fiver.
Poetry - Strong For Too Long By Phil Lamb
From the comfort of my crumpled, quilt womb
The sentry tower clock rings out round the room
Awakened from the world where I wish to stay
A world I struggle to get to at the end of the day
I yearn for the world of colour that is so far away
Instead of this world with its blackness and grey Read more...
Poetry - Paltry Poultry Poetry By Martin S Hines
I saw a bird
The bird it looked back
The bird was a duck
Quite quiet its quack
A limp in its leg
And a crick in its back
Broken, one wing Read more...
Poetry - Sundays By Michelle Dee
They tell me there is a deer, roaming free
in the graveyard - I've never seen it.
I've seen a muddy dog haring, all paws and playfulness,
the dry husk of a fallen seed, now skeletal and fruitless.
A forgotten garden-seat swinging, couple-less in the breeze.
The aching of a stout ship, full sail behind a dusty pane. Read more...
Poetry - Fairytale Love By Katelyn Langston
I drown it out with happiness
I drown it out with tears
Pushed back into my memory
You find my biggest fears
Some could be considered normal
Some could be considered fake Read more...
Poetry Funny The Things That Happen By Pamela Scobie Photograph by Tim Green
I met an angel the other day.
He was sitting on the steps outside Wrangthorne Church
in his shirt sleeves
in the sunshine.
And d'you know what my instinctive, uncharitable thought was? How dare you?
Poetry - Poppy Power By Ted Harben
Do you ever sense the visions
in the poppy that you buy,
the countless squads of soldiers
ever cheerful, marching by?
See the bloody scenes of battle,
the carnage of the guns;
or watch the ghosts returning,