172 Football Poems That Will Spark Your Passion

Football, the world’s most popular game, brings out enthusiasm and passion in everyone – from professional players to weekend warriors.

Whether we play it ourselves or just watch others compete, football has a way of touching our hearts with its beauty and engaging our minds with its vibrant strategy.

To celebrate this beloved sport, here is an exclusive collection of football poems that will inspire you to better understand the game and capture some of your own moments of joy on the field.

From inspirational quotes “Success is no accident” (Pele) to analytical observations on the effects of fandom (“When you win, nothing hurts” – Joe Namath), these poems about football will help bring any sports fan closer to the spirit of football.

Dive in and discover how poets have used their lyrical skills to shape this football poetry.

Best Football Poems

Reading these best poems about football will ignite your passion for the game all over again. The imagery, language, and passion in these poems are so amazing, you’ll feel like you’re on the field with your favorite players. So, what are you waiting for? Check them out and let yourself be transported to the world of football poetry.

1. Twice a Week the Winter Thorough

       A. E. Housman

Twice a week the winter thorough
Here stood I to keep the goal:
Football then was fighting sorrow
For the young man’s soul.


Now in Maytime to the wicket
Out I march with bat and pad:
See the son of grief at cricket
Trying to be glad.

Try I will; no harm in trying:
Wonder ’tis how little mirth
Keeps the bones of man from lying
On the bed of earth.

2. A Friendly Game of Football

       Edward George Dyson

We were challenged by The Dingoes — they’re the pride of Squatter’s Gap—
To a friendly game of football on the flat by Devil’s Trap.
And we went along on horses, sworn to triumph in the game,
For the honour of Gyp’s Diggings, and the glory of the same.

And we took the challenge with us. It was beautiful to see,
With its lovely curly letters, at its pretty filigree.
It was very gently worded, and it made us all feel good,
For it breathed the sweetest sentiments of peace and brotherhood.

We had Chang, and Trucker Hogan, and the man who licked The Plug,
Also Heggarty, and Hoolahan, and Peter Scott, the pug;
And we wore our knuckle-dusters, and we took a keg on tap
To our friendly game of football with The Dingoes at The Gap …

3. My Old Football

       J. Milton Hayes

You can keep your antique silver and your statuettes of bronze,
Your curios and tapestries so fine,
But of all your treasures rare there is nothing to compare
With this patched up, worn-out football pal o’ mine.
Just a patched-up worn-out football, yet how it clings!
I live again my happier days in thoughts that football brings.
It’s got a mouth, it’s got a tongue,
And oft when we’re alone I fancy that it speaks
To me of golden youth that’s flown.
It calls to mind our meeting,
’Twas a present from the Dad.
I kicked it yet I worshipped it,
How strange a priest it had!
And yet it jumped with pleasure
When I punched it might and main:
And when it had the dumps
It got blown up and punched again.
It’s lived its life;
It’s played the game;
It’s had its rise and fall,
There’s history in the wrinkles of
That worn-out football …

4. Football

       by Louis Jenkins

I take the snap from the center, fake to the right, fade back…
I’ve got protection. I’ve got a receiver open downfield…
What the hell is this? This isn’t a football, it’s a shoe, a man’s
brown leather oxford. A cousin to a football maybe, the same
skin, but not the same, a thing made for the earth, not the air.
I realize that this is a world where anything is possible and I
understand, also, that one often has to make do with what one
has. I have eaten pancakes, for instance, with that clear corn
syrup on them because there was no maple syrup and they
weren’t very good. Well, anyway, this is different. (My man
downfield is waving his arms.) One has certain responsibilities,
one has to make choices. This isn’t right and I’m not going
to throw it.

5. 1914 Truce

       by Laureat Carol Ann Duffy

Christmas Eve in the trenches of France, the guns were quiet.
The dead lay still in No Man’s Land –
Freddie, Franz, Friedrich, Frank . . .
The moon, like a medal, hung in the clear, cold sky.

Silver frost on barbed wire, strange tinsel, sparkled and winked.
A boy from Stroud stared at a star
to meet his mother’s eyesight there.
An owl swooped on a rat on the glove of a corpse.

In a copse of trees behind the lines, a lone bird sang.
A soldier-poet noted it down – a robin holding his winter ground –
then silence spread and touched each man like a hand.

Somebody kissed the gold of his ring;
a few lit pipes;
most, in their greatcoats, huddled,
waiting for sleep.
The liquid mud had hardened at last in the freeze.

But it was Christmas Eve; believe; belief thrilled the night air,
where glittering rime on unburied sons
treasured their stiff hair.
The sharp, clean, midwinter smell held memory.

On watch, a rifleman scoured the terrain –
no sign of life,
no shadows, shots from snipers, nowt to note or report.
The frozen, foreign fields were acres of pain.

Then flickering flames from the other side danced in his eyes,
as Christmas Trees in their dozens shone, candlelit on the parapets,
and they started to sing, all down the German lines.

Men who would drown in mud, be gassed, or shot, or vaporised
by falling shells, or live to tell, heard for the first time then –
Stille Nacht. Heilige Nacht. Alles schläft, einsam wacht …

Cariad, the song was a sudden bridge from man to man;
a gift to the heart from home,
or childhood, some place shared …
When it was done, the British soldiers cheered.

A Scotsman started to bawl The First Noel
and all joined in,
till the Germans stood, seeing
across the divide,
the sprawled, mute shapes of those who had died.

All night, along the Western Front, they sang, the enemies –
carols, hymns, folk songs, anthems, in German, English, French;
each battalion choired in its grim trench.

So Christmas dawned, wrapped in mist, to open itself
and offer the day like a gift
for Harry, Hugo, Hermann, Henry, Heinz …
with whistles, waves, cheers, shouts, laughs.

Frohe Weinachten, Tommy! Merry Christmas, Fritz!
A young Berliner, brandishing schnapps,
was the first from his ditch to climb.
A Shropshire lad ran at him like a rhyme.

Then it was up and over, every man, to shake the hand
of a foe as a friend,
or slap his back like a brother would;
exchanging gifts of biscuits, tea, Maconochie’s stew,

Tickler’s jam … for cognac, sausages, cigars,
beer, sauerkraut;
or chase six hares, who jumped
from a cabbage-patch, or find a ball
and make of a battleground a football pitch.

I showed him a picture of my wife. Ich zeigte ihm
ein Foto meiner Frau.
Sie sei schön, sagte er.
He thought her beautiful, he said.

They buried the dead then, hacked spades into hard earth
again and again, till a score of men
were at rest, identified, blessed.
Der Herr ist mein Hirt … my shepherd, I shall not want.

And all that marvellous, festive day and night, they came and went,
the officers, the rank and file, their fallen comrades side by side
beneath the makeshift crosses of midwinter graves …

… beneath the shivering, shy stars
and the pinned moon
and the yawn of History;
the high, bright bullets
which each man later only aimed at the sky.

6. Wide Receiver

       by Mark Halliday

In the huddle you said “Go long—get open”
and at the snap I took off along the right sideline
and then cut across left in a long arc
and I’m sure I was open at several points—
glancing back I saw you pump-fake more than once
but you must not have been satisfied with what you saw downfield
and then I got bumped off course and my hands touched the turf
but I regained my balance and dashed back to the right
I think or maybe first left and then right
and I definitely got open but the throw never came—

maybe you thought I couldn’t hang on to a ball flung so far
or maybe you actually can’t throw so far
but in any case I feel quite open now,
the defenders don’t seem too interested in me
I sense only open air all around me
though the air is getting darker and it would appear
by now we’re well into the fourth quarter
and I strongly doubt we can afford to settle for
dinky little first downs if the score is what I think it is

so come on, star boy, fling a Hail Mary
with a dream-coached combination of muscle and faith
and I will gauge the arc and I will not be stupidly frantic
and I will time my jump and—I’m just going to say
in the cool gloaming of this weirdly long game
it is not impossible that I will make the catch.

After School, Street Football, Eighth Grade
BY DENNIS COOPER
Their jeans sparkled, cut off
way above the knee, and my
friends and I would watch them
from my porch, books of poems
lost in our laps, eyes wide as
tropical fish behind our glasses.

Their football flashed from hand
to hand, tennis shoes gripped
the asphalt, sweat’s spotlight on
their strong backs. We would
dream of hugging them, and crouch
later in weird rooms, and come.

Once their ball fell our way
so two of them came over, hands
on their hips, asking us to
throw it to them, which Arthur did,
badly, and they chased it back.
One turned to yell, “Thanks”

and we dreamed of his long
teeth in our necks. We
wanted them to wander over,
place deep wet underarms to
our lips, and then their white
asses, then those loud mouths.

One day one guy was very tired,
didn’t move fast enough,
so a car hit him and he sprawled
fifty feet away, sexy, but he was
dead, blood like lipstick, then
those great boys stood together

on the sidewalk and we joined them,
mixing in like one big friendship
to the cops, who asked if we were,
and those boys were too sad to counter.
We’d known his name, Tim, and how
he’d turned to thank us nicely

but now he was under a sheet
anonymous as God, the big boys crying,
spitting words, and we stunned
like intellectuals get, our high
voices soft as the tinkling of a
chandelier on a ceiling too high to see.

7. Olives

       by Donald Hall

“Dead people don’t like olives,”
I told my partners in eighth grade  
dancing class, who never listened  
as we fox-trotted, one-two, one-two.  
  
The dead people I often consulted  
nodded their skulls in unison  
while I flung my black velvet cape  
over my shoulders and glowered  
from deep-set, burning eyes,  
walking the city streets, alone at fifteen,  
crazy for cheerleaders and poems.  
  
At Hamden High football games, girls  
in short pleated skirts  
pranced and kicked, and I longed  
for their memorable thighs.  
They were friendly—poets were mascots—  
but never listened when I told them  
that dead people didn’t like olives.  
  
Instead the poet, wearing his cape,  
continued to prowl in solitude  
intoning inscrutable stanzas  
as halfbacks and tackles  
made out, Friday nights after football,  
on sofas in dark-walled rec rooms  
with magnanimous cheerleaders.  
  
But, decades later, when the dead  
have stopped blathering  
about olives, obese halfbacks wheeze  
upstairs to sleep beside cheerleaders  
waiting for hip replacements,  
while a lascivious, doddering poet,  
his burning eyes deep-set  
in wrinkles, cavorts with their daughters.

8. A Mad Fight Song for William S. Carpenter, 1966

       by James Wright

Quick on my feet in those Novembers of my loneliness,
I tossed a short pass,
Almost the instant I got the ball, right over the head
Of Barrel Terry before he knocked me cold.

When I woke, I found myself crying out
Latin conjugations, and the new snow falling
At the edge of a green field.

Lemoyne Crone had caught the pass, while I lay
Unconscious and raging
Alone with the fire ghost of Catullus, the contemptuous graces tossing
Garlands and hendecasyllabics over the head
Of Cornelius Nepos the mastodon,
The huge volume.

At the edges of Southeast Asia this afternoon
The quarterbacks and the lines are beginning to fall,
A spring snow,

And terrified young men
Quick on their feet
Lob one another’s skulls across
Wings of strange birds that are burning
Themselves alive.

9. Evening Practice

       by D. Nurkse

I asked my father,
“would you rather die
of cancer or a heart attack?
Would you rather be executed
or put in jail for life?
Which would you rather be—
a spy or a sentinel?”
And he tried to answer
honestly, combing his thinning hair
with his fingers, thinking of something else.
At last he fell silent. I ran out
to savor the dregs of dusk
playing with my friends
in the road that led to the highway.
The ball flew up toward day
and landed in night.
We chanted. Every other minute
a truck, summoned by our warnings,
brushed past in a gust of light,
the driver’s curses muffled
by distance: the oncoming wheels
were the point of the game,
like the scores in chalk
or the blood from scuffed knees
that we smeared across our faces:
so when my mother called,
her voice was quaint and stymied
and I took all the time in the world
trotting home past tarped barbecue pits,
past names of lovers filling with sap,
past tentative wind from sprinklers:
then I was stunned to see my golden window
where all faces, hanging plants, dangling pots
were framed by night and dwarfed
by a ravenous inward-turning light.

10. Neighbors in October

       by David Baker

All afternoon his tractor pulls a flat wagon
with bales to the barn, then back to the waiting
chopped field. It trails a feather of smoke.
Down the block we bend with the season:
shoes to polish for a big game,
storm windows to batten or patch.
And how like a field is the whole sky now
that the maples have shed their leaves, too.
It makes us believers—stationed in groups,
leaning on rakes, looking into space. We rub blisters
over billows of leaf smoke. Or stand alone,
bagging gold for the cold days to come.

11. Why I Might Go to the Next Football Game

       by Denis Johnson

sometimes you know  
things: once at a  
birthday party a little

girl looked at her new party
gloves and said she
liked me, making suddenly the light much  
brighter so that the very small

hairs shone above her lip. i felt
stuffed, like a swimming pool, with  
words, like i knew something that was in  
a great tangled knot. and when we sat

down i saw there were
tiny glistenings on her
legs, too. i knew
something for sure then. but it

was too big, or like the outside too  
everywhere, or maybe
hiding inside, behind
the bicycles where i later

kissed her, not using my tongue. it was  
too giant and thin to squirm
into, and be so well inside of, or
too well hidden to punch, and feel. a few

days later on the asphalt playground i  
tackled her. she skinned her
elbow, and i even
punched her and felt her, felt

how soft the hairs were. i thought
that i would make a fine football-playing  
poet, but now i know
it is better to be an old, breathing

man wrapped in a great coat in the stands, who  
remains standing after each play, who knows  
something, who rotates in his place
rasping over and over the thing

he knows: “whydidnhe pass? the other  
end was wide open! the end
was wide open! the end was wide open . . . ”

12. Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio

       by James Wright

In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.

All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home,
Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.

Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other’s bodies.

13. Football Weather

       by Paul Carroll

As a kid I tried to coax its coming
By sleeping beneath light sheets
Weeks before
The funeral of the summer locusts in the yard;
Then when Granny peeled down the crucifix of
flypaper that dangled from the ceiling of the kitchen
Magic wasn’t needed any longer
To fill the air with pigskins.   The air itself
Acrid, lambent, bright
As the robes of the Chinese gods inside their
house of glass
In the Field Museum by the lake.
Even practice could be fun—
The way, say, even sepia photographs of old-time
All Americans could be pirates’ gold
Like my favorite Bill Corbus, Stanford’s “Baby-
Face Assassin” crouching at right guard, the
last to play without a helmet on—
And the fun of testing muscles out
Like new shoes; the odor of the locker room pungent
As the inside of a pumpkin;
And the sting of that wet towel twirled against
bare butt by a genial, roaring Ziggy, Mt.
Carmel’s All State tackle from Immaculate
Conception Parish near the mills;
And then the victory, especially the close shaves, could feel
Like finally getting beneath a girl’s brassiere
She’ll let you keep
Unhooked for hours while you neck
Until the windshield of your Granddad’s Ford V-8
Becomes filled by a fog
Not even Fu Manchu could penetrate.   Jack,
Next football weather my son Luke will be in high school,
Bigger than I was and well-coordinated—but
Couldn’t care a plenary indulgence
If he ever lugs a pigskin down the turf
Or hits a long shot on the court.   At times, I wish he would.
So he might taste the happiness you knew
Snagging Chris Zoukis’ low pass to torpedo nine
long yards to touchdown
And sink archrival Lawrence High
45 years ago come this Thanksgiving Day.   Still,
He has his own intensities
As wild as sports and writing were for us:
Luke’s the seventh Rolling Stone,
His electric guitar elegant and shiny black
As a quiet street at night
Glazed by rain and pumpkin frost.

14. Football Dreams

       by Jacqueline Woodson

No one was faster
than my father on the football field.
No one could keep him
from crossing the line. Then
touching down again.
Coaches were watching the way he moved,
his easy stride, his long arms reaching
up, snatching the ball from its soft pockets
of air.

My father dreamed football dreams,
and woke up to a scholarship
at Ohio State University.
Grown now
living the big-city life
in Columbus
just sixty miles
from Nelsonville
and from there
Interstate 70 could get you
on your way west to Chicago
Interstate 77 could take you south
but my father said
no colored Buckeye in his right mind
would ever want to go there.

15. Prison Chaplain

       by Timothy Murphy

For Stuart Longtin
Heavy and gray now, dressed in deacon’s robes—
I see you in your Speedo at Floyd Lake,
its nylon clinging to those golden globes
you exercised for Moorhead football’s sake.

We hiked the Black Trail to Itasca Park,
but now I see a deacon hard at work
explicating the Gospel of St. Mark,
our high school quarterback become a clerk—

in the high sense. A boy with such good looks,
you could have run to Hollywood and whored
but turned to mastery of sacred books
and the manly mimesis of our Lord.

Lifesaver, that was your job at Wilderness,
teaching tenderfoot farm boys how to swim.
Soulsaver, I would call you now and bless
any man who preaches Saint Mark to Tim.

We take our coffee outside for the view,
patrol the walk-about with twelve-foot mesh
where drunks can smoke. What has become of Stu?
The Word. Not on the page but in the flesh.

16. The Ditch

       by Michael Ryan

In the ditch, half-ton sections of cast-iron molds
hand-greased at the seams with pale petroleum waste
and screw-clamped into five-hundred-gallon cylinders
drummed with rubber-headed sledges inside and out
to settle tight the wet concrete
that, dried and caulked, became Monarch Septic Tanks;
and, across the ditch, my high school football coach,
Don Compo, spunky pug of a man,
bronze and bald, all biceps and pecs,
raging at some “attitude” of mine
he snipped from our argument about Vietnam—
I mean raging, scarlet, veins bulging from his neck,
he looked like a hard-on stalking back and forth—
but I had started college, this was a summer job,
I no longer had to take his self-righteous, hectoring shit,
so I was chuckling merrily, saying he was ludicrous,
and he was calling me “College Man Ryan”
and, with his steel-toed workboot, kicking dirt
that clattered against the molds and puffed up between us.

It’s probably not like this anymore, but every coach
in my hometown was a lunatic. Each had different quirks
we mimicked, beloved bromides whose parodies we intoned,
but they all conducted practice like boot camp,
the same tirades and abuse, no matter the sport,
the next game the next battle in a neverending war.
Ex-paratroopers and -frogmen, at least three
finally convicted child molesters, genuine sadists
fixated on the Commie menace and our American softness
that was personally bringing the country to the brink of collapse—
in this company, Don Compo didn’t even seem crazy.
He had never touched any of us;
his violence was verbal, which we were used to,
having gotten it from our fathers
and given it back to our brothers and one another
since we had been old enough to button our own pants.
Any minute—no guessing what might trigger it—
he could be butting your face mask and barking up your nostrils,
but generally he favored an unruffled, moralistic carping,
in which I, happy to spot phoniness,
saw pride and bitterness masquerading as teaching.
In the locker room, I’d sit where I could roll my eyeballs
as he droned, but, across the ditch,
he wasn’t lecturing, but fuming, flaring
as I had never seen in four years of football,
and it scared and thrilled me to defy him and mock him
when he couldn’t make me handwash jockstraps after practice
or do pushups on my fingertips in a mud puddle.

But it was myself I was taunting. I could see my retorts
snowballing toward his threat to leap the ditch
and beat me to a puddle of piss (“you craphead,
you wiseass”), and my unspading a shovel from a dirt pile
and grasping its balance deliberately down the handle
and inviting him to try it.
Had he come I would have hit him,
There’s no question about that.
For a moment, it ripped through our bewilderment,
which then closed over again
like the ocean
if an immense cast-iron mold were dropped in.
I was fired when the boss broke the tableau.
“The rest of you,” he said, “have work to do,”
and, grabbing a hammer and chisel, Don Compo
mounted the mold between us in the ditch
and with one short punch split it down the seam.

Famous Football Poems

If you consider yourself a true football fan, then you can’t miss these famous poems about football. They are nothing short of amazing and will strike a chord with your deepest passions. Give them a try!

1. The Beautiful Game

       by Anonymous

The field stretches out before us
Green as envy, lush as victory
The ball glides across the grass
A blur of white against the emerald sea
And we chase it
With our hearts in our throats
With our dreams on our feet
This is the beautiful game
The game that takes us to the limit
And leaves us breathless
With the glory of what we can achieve
The Roar of the Crowd
The stands are shaking
With the thunder of a thousand feet
The roar of the crowd is deafening
As we take the field
The smell of freshly mown grass
The taste of adrenaline in our mouths
We are ready for battle
Ready for the fight of our lives
And together we will triumph
On this hallowed ground
Where legends are made
And heroes are born

2. Victory

       by Anonymous

The clock ticks down
And we can taste victory
Sweeter than honey
More precious than gold
We are on fire
Our hearts full of hope
As we surge towards our goal
The crowd is on its feet
Cheering us on
And we know
That we will emerge victorious

3. Defeat

       by Anonymous

The whistle blows
And we hang our heads
In defeat
The taste of bitter disappointment
In our mouths
We gave it our all
But it wasn’t enough
To overcome our enemies
The pain of loss
Will sting for a while
But we will come back
Stronger, better, faster
Ready to fight again

4. Passion

       by Anonymous

Passion fuels us
As we charge across the field
The fire in our bellies
Burning bright with every stride
We are warriors
Fierce, unrelenting, unstoppable
And we will not stop
Until we have tasted victory
Our passion knows no bounds
And it will carry us

To the top of the mountain
Where we will stand
As champions.

5. The Pitch

       by Anonymous

Green sea of grass blades
Await the clash of the titans
Battle on the pitch
The Ball
Round orb of power
Kicked by warriors with grace
Towards the end zone
The Fans
Masses of color
Roaring with unbridled fire
Fervor uncontainable
The Victory
Leaping in the air
Like a bird of prey soars high
Victory is ours
The Memories
A smile on our faces
Fond memories in our hearts
Football unites us.

6. Football

       by Anonymous

In the stadium, crowds start a hum
While the footballers stand on the chum
They all wait for the ball
To start making their brawl
And the game is begun, let’s have fun!
The Game
The players with skill and perfection
Kicking balls with rapid direction
The field’s team turns red
While the scorer goes ahead
Victory is its own satisfaction!

7. The Rivalry

       by Anonymous

The fans are booing, emotions fly
Rivalry will oftentimes ensue and lie
Fierce battles on the field
Tempers flair, no reason to yield
On both sides, flags are waving high!

8. The Players

       by Anonymous

The players’ hearts beating like drums
Under the light that mostly becomes
On the field they play
The match begins, begins to sway
Till the glory of the game finally comes!

9. The Score

       by Anonymous

One team’s fans shout out with elation
While the others express devastation
It happened so fast
The game could not be surpassed
The goal came to its final conclusion!

10. The Kickoff

       by Anonymous

The whistle resounds
The ball flies into the air
Feet pound the green grass
The game’s passion in motion
A hopeful start with the kick

11. The Winning Goal

       by Anonymous

Last moments of game
Under like rain crowd’s roars stampede
The ball curves in just right
Absolute silence; no tongue
Then the ecstatic pandemonium

12. The Perfect Pass

       by Anonymous

A passer sets up
A perfect strike on the goal
Sends it through the air
The crowd holds their breath in awe
It lands to a waiting foot

13. The Football Field

       by Anonymous

The stadium’s roar
Echoes as we take the field
The battle rages
Our adrenaline rushes
As we play on this grand stage
The Sportsmanship
Enemies in sport
The battle rages on the pitch
But respect abounds
With sportsmanship and fair play
Victors glory only found

14. The Field

       by Anonymous

A vast and endless sea of green and white
Stretches out in front of eager eyes,
As players take position for their fight
And dream of goals, of triumph, and of prize.
The whistle sounds, and suddenly they’re off,
The ball a blur, the sound like distant thunder
And all around them, people cheer and scoff,
As fierce the battle rages on and under.
And then it’s over, and the crowd erupts
As victors and the vanquished take the field,
Their dreams and passions intertwined and mixed,
Unbroken by the chaos and the yield.
For football is a game of skill and glory,
A dance of sweat, of courage, and of story.

15. The Passion

       by Anonymous

The roar of the crowd fills the air around,
As players take their places on the field,
Their hearts alight with passion unbound,
Their spirits lifted by the might that’s wielded.
The football trundles, like a sea of white,
Across the green expanse, so vast and wide,
And players leap and dance with all their might,
As they brave the elements of grit and pride.
The game is fierce and thrilling, full of sound
And fury, like a tempest in a storm,
As players fight for every inch of ground
And dreams of victory flicker, bright and warm.
For football is a game of passion, true,
A symphony of grace, and pride, and hue.

16. The Goal

       by Anonymous

The goal stands tall, a symbol of desire,
A shrine to all who seek to do the same,
And players rally round, their hearts on fire,
As they strive to conquer, win the game.
They chase the ball like soldiers on a quest,
Their breaths are quick, their hearts are filled with fire,
As sweat pours down their backs, and they’re oppressed
By doubts and fears, by every ache and tire.
The goal is close, they can almost taste the win,
The crowds are cheering, urging them ahead,
And they push on, their spirits bright and thin,
Through every test, and trial, and unsaid.
For football is a game of courage, might,
And the goal, the prize that makes us seek the light.

17. The Victory

       by Anonymous

The moment comes, as sweet as honeydew,
The victory we dreamed of, fought for, won,
Our crowning glory, sweet and ever new,
A triumph of the heart, a lover’s song.
The crowds are cheering, loud and bright and clear,
Their voices ringing in our ears like gold.
The victory is ours, and oh, my dear,
The thrill of it will never get old.
For football is a game of passion, grace,
Of highs and lows, of joy and sacrifice,
And the victory, the shining, beaming face
of glory and of life and sacrifice.
We stand here now, our hearts and spirits bold,
And we shall never tire, nor grow old.

18. The Defeat

       by Anonymous

The moment comes, as bitter as the tears,
The defeat we dreaded, fought so hard to beat,
Our hopes and dreams now shattered, what it fears,
A loss so great, it tramples on our feet.
The crowds are quiet, as we lick our wounds,
And ponder what went wrong, what we could do,
But the answers, we know, will not come soon,
Or soothe our aching hearts so strong and true.
For football is a game of risk, of pain,
Of wins and losses that we cannot control,
And the defeat, the bitter, stinging grain,
That bears us down and marks our mortal soul.
But we shall rise again, like phoenix bright,
And in the face of loss, seek the shining light.

19. The Ball

       by Anonymous

The ball is round, so neat and true
It bounces, dances, with its own rhythm and beat
A symbol of what we can do.
We kick it high, and it soars, it’s true
Further than we ever thought it could meet
The ball is round, so neat and true.
With every step, we strive anew
We feel the power in our feet
A symbol of what we can do.
And when we score, the crowd applauds anew
The air filled with screams and beating heartbeats
The ball is round, so neat and true.
We play with passion, dedication too
Our sweat and tears upon the heat
A symbol of what we can do.
So let us play, and let us be true
To every dream, and every feat
For the ball is round, so neat and true
A symbol of what we can do.

20. The Victory

       by Anonymous

We stand together, side by side
Our hearts alight with passion and pride
For we have won, the battle done
And victory is ours, every one.
The fields are quiet, the crowds are gone
The day is done, the sun has shone
And we can rest, our work complete
For we have won, the battle done.
Our dreams have come true, our hearts have won
And we stand tall, our victory spun
Around us, like magic, like a feat
For we have won, the battle done.
And so, we raise our voices high
And shout to the stars, to the sky
For we have won, the battle done
And victory is ours, every one.

21. The Foul

       by Anonymous

The whistle blows, the game is on
But soon, the moment is gone
A foul is called, and tempers flare
And suddenly, it’s a whole new affair.
The players argue, voices loud
What once was peaceful, now a crowd
Of anger, and frustration, and pride
And rules that must be put aside.
But then, the ref speaks, calm and clear
And suddenly, there’s nothing to fear
The game goes on, the players fight
As they did before, with might and right.
For football is a game of heart and soul
And sometimes tempers will take their toll
But in the end, we stand so tall
For the love of the game, and the thrill of the ball.

22. The Unity

       by Anonymous

The team stands tall, united as one
With hearts alight, with every won
We take the field, together true
And fight for every green and blue.
The game is fierce, the battle hot
Our opponents giving all they’ve got
But we will never rest, never tire
For we are one, burning with desire.
The fans are with us, cheering loud
Their voices ringing, like proud
And we will honor them, with every stride
And fight for victory, side by side.
For football is a game of passion, fire
A symphony of dreams and desire
And with every step, every ball
We stand together, united, and tall.

23. The Friendship

       by Anonymous

The game begins, our hearts are weighed
With hopes and dreams that won’t be swayed
But in the end, it’s friendship true
That carries us, and sees us through.
Our opponents are not our foes
But fellow warriors, with their own blows
And when the final whistle sounds
We’ll shake their hands, with respect unfound.
For football is a game of heart and soul
And friendship that will make us whole
Together, we stand, the red and the blue
And honor all, in all that we do.
So let us play, with love and care
With passion true, and courage rare
And in the end, it won’t be the score

That will matter most, but the friends we bore.

Funny Football Poems

Are you ready to get fired up about football? Look no further than these amazing funny poems about football that are sure to tickle your funny bone and get your blood pumping. Don’t rest on our words only, check them out and see for yourself!

1. The Football Match

       by John Foster

The football match was fierce and loud,
With shouts and cheers from all the crowd.
The players kicked and ran and fell,
But none of them could score a goal well.

The referee kept blowing his whistle,
And sending players off like thistle.
The crowd was getting quite annoyed,
And started throwing pies and toys.

The match was called off in the end,
And everyone went home to mend.
But one thing’s for sure, they all agreed,
That football is a crazy game indeed!

2. The Football Fan

       by Roger McGough

He’s a football fan, he’s got his scarf,
His hat and gloves and all his charm.
He’s got his team, he’s got his song,
He’s got his beer and he’s all wrong.

He shouts and screams, he jumps and falls,
He thinks his team will never lose at all.
But when they do, he’s just as loud,
He’s a football fan, he’s proud.

3. The Footballer

       by Michael Rosen

The footballer dribbles down the wing,
His boots are flashing, he’s the king.
He shoots the ball, it flies so high,
It hits the crossbar and goes out the sky.

The crowd goes wild, they cheer and shout,
But the footballer’s head is full of doubt.
He knows he’s missed an easy goal,
And now he’s feeling like a fool.

4. The Goalkeeper

       by Spike Milligan

The goalkeeper’s standing in the goal,
He’s feeling very, very cold.
He’s got his gloves and his hat on,
But he’s still shivering like a ton.

The ball is coming, he can see,
He dives and jumps, but it’s not to be.
The ball goes in, the crowd goes wild,
The goalkeeper’s feeling very mild.

5. The Referee

       by Pam Ayres

The referee’s a man of power,
He’s got the whistle and the hour.
He blows the whistle, he shows the card,
He’s the man in charge, he’s got the yard.

The players moan, the crowd complains,
But the referee just shrugs and drains.
He’s got the job, he’s got the role,
He’s the referee, he’s got control.

6. The Football Fan’s Lament

       by Les Barker

Oh, I’m a football fan, it’s true,
I’ve followed my team through thick and thin.
I’ve seen them win, I’ve seen them lose,
But I’ve always been there, I’ve always been true.

I’ve sat in the rain, I’ve stood in the cold,
I’ve cheered and shouted, I’ve lost my voice.
But I’ve never given up, I’ve never lost hope,
I’m a football fan, I’m proud to boast.

7. The Football Team

       by John Betjeman

They’re off, they’re off, the whistle blows,
The crowd goes wild, the tension grows.
The players run, they kick and pass,
They’re trying hard to score a class.

The ball is in the box, it’s nearly in,
The goalkeeper dives, the crowd goes mad again.
The ball goes in, the goal is scored,
The crowd erupts, the players applaud.

8. The Football Match in the Park

       by Roger McGough

The football match in the park was fun,
With kids and dogs and everyone.
They kicked and chased and laughed and fell,
And had a jolly time, I can tell.

The ball went over the fence,
And into the garden of Mrs. Spence.
She came out with a broom and chased,
The kids and dogs, they were amazed.

9. The Footballer’s Dream

       by Spike Milligan

The footballer’s dreaming of a goal,
A goal so great, it makes him whole.
He sees the ball, he kicks the ball,
It flies so high, it hits the wall.

The crowd goes wild, they cheer and shout,
The footballer’s dream is now about.
He wakes up with a smile so wide,
He knows that he can’t be denied.

10. The Ballad of the Unfortunate Football

       by Ogden Nash

Oh, the football was a curious ball,
It had a tendency to fall
Into the hands of some big guy
Who would then proceed to try
To carry it across the goal line
And score a touchdown, oh what a crime!
But alas, the ball had other plans,
It didn’t want to be a part of any plans,
It wanted to live its life free and wild,
Not be a tool for some burly man-child.
So it took matters into its own hands,
And started acting like a clown,
It bounced and wobbled and rolled around,
And made a fool of everyone in town.
Now when they tried to kick it, it would skid,
And when they threw it, it would slide,
It was a master of evasion, no doubt,
This ball was determined to avoid being caught.
And so it lived its life on its own terms,
A rebel to the end, with no regrets,
For though it may have been a nuisance,
It was also quite amusing, you see.

11. The Gridiron Gang

       by Shel Silverstein

We’re the gridiron gang, we’re strong and tough,
We play our games from dawn till dusk,
With helmets and pads, we take the field,
Our opponents tremble at the yield.
We smash and crash, we run and catch,
We fight for every yard and scratch,
We’re heroes of the game, we never quit,
We give it all we’ve got, we don’t admit defeat.
But after the game is over and done,
When the crowds have gone and the sun has won,
We shed our armor, we hang up our cleats,
And reveal our secret, vulnerable seats.
For beneath our bravado, we’re just guys,
With fears and dreams, and hearts that sigh,
We’re not invincible, we’re not machines,
We’re human beings, with feelings, it seems.

12. Football

       by Alan Bleasdale

The ball flies through the air, a beautiful sight,
As players clash, their strength and skill in flight,
The crowd cheers loud, as victory draws near,
Their voices raised, their passions clear.
But wait, what’s this? A player falls,
He’s hurt, he can’t get up at all,
His teammates gather round, a worried look,
Their hopes and dreams, now on the hook.
The trainers rush out, they attend to his needs,
They check his limbs, his head, his knees,
The crowd holds its breath, a hushed silence,
As they wait for news of his condition.
But then, a miracle, he gets up, he stands,
The crowd erupts, their joy unrestrained,
He shakes off pain, he takes the field again,
His spirit unbroken, his will unchained.
And so the game goes on, its ebb and flow,
A test of strength, a show of grit,
Where men become heroes, legends grow,
In the rough and tumble world of football.

13. The Quarterback’s Prayer

       by Anonymous

Dear Lord, I pray for strength and grace,
To lead my team to victory,
To guide my throws, to steady my pace,
And help me make the right decisions, please.
I know that football’s just a game,
But to me, it’s more than that, it’s fame,
The chance to prove myself, to stand tall,
To be a hero, even if it’s just for one day.
So grant me wisdom, grant me courage too,
Help me to stay focused, whatever I do,
Let my passes fly straight and true,
And let my teammates follow me, anew.
For I know that with your help, we’ll win,
And our fans will cheer, and we’ll all grin,
For football’s not just a game, but a way,
To learn about life, and how to play.

14. The Ballad of Bumbling Bob

       by Chuckle McGoalie

In the goal, there stood a guy,
Bob was his name, oh my, oh my.
He’d dive and flail, a comedy show,
The ball went in, a steady flow.

15. Ode to the Referee

       by Jester Whistleblower

Referee, oh referee, with your cards so bright,
Red for anger, yellow for slight.
You blow your whistle, make the call,
Players protest, but you stand tall.

16. The Tangled Tango

       by Anonymous

On the pitch, a tangled mess,
Feet and balls in great distress.
Players dance a clumsy tango,
Laughter echoes, to and fro.

17. The Case of the Missing Goalpost

       by Anonymous

Goalpost, oh goalpost, where could you be?
Vanished during the halftime tea.
Players aim for the empty space,
Scoring now is quite a race.

18. The Striker’s Lament

       by Witty Kick

A striker’s life is full of woe,
Missed shots and goals that just won’t go.
The net, a taunting, distant friend,
Will the agony never end?

19. The Legend of Slippery Sid

       by Guffaw Jones

Sid the striker, quick as a fox,
But on rainy days, in his favorite socks,
He slid and slid, a slippery sight,
Scoring goals, left and right.

20. An Ode to the Penalty Kick

       by Anonymous

Alone in the box, a moment so grand,
The penalty kick, fate in your hand.
The goalie dives, the crowd holds its breath,
Did he save it? No, it’s in! Goal, death.

Short Football Poems

Whether you are a fan of the beautiful game, or just appreciate great writing, these short poems about football are a must-read. So why not check them out and see for yourself? You won’t be disappointed.

1. The Beautiful Game

       by Anonymous

A game of skill, a game of speed,
Where players run and passion bleeds.
The ball so round, the field so green,
A spectacle where dreams convene.

2. The Football Fan

       by Anonymous

With scarf and colors proudly worn,
A fan’s devotion is reborn.
Through wins and losses, they remain,
Their love for football, a burning flame.

3. The Goal

       by Anonymous


The net it bulges, the crowd erupts,
A moment etched, emotions burst.
The ball’s sweet kiss, the keeper’s woe,
A goal’s delight, a thrilling show.

4. The Referee

       by Anonymous

With whistle poised, they take the field,
A watchful eye, their judgment sealed.
Fair play they seek, the rules they keep,
The game’s true guardian, sound asleep.

5. The Football Legend

       by Anonymous

Their names etched deep in history’s lore,
Legends of the game, forevermore.
With skill and passion, they did inspire,
Their legacy lives, a burning fire.

6. The Football Field

       by Anonymous

A canvas green, where dreams unfold,
Where stories start, where triumphs hold.
The field of play, where passions clash,
A stage for heroes, a thrilling dash.

7. The Football Team

       by Anonymous

United hearts, a single goal,
A team’s spirit, taking hold.
Through sweat and grit, they strive to soar,
Their bond unbreakable, forevermore.

8. The Football Chant

       by Anonymous

A chorus rises, voices blend,
A chant of passion, hearts transcend.
The stadium echoes, with fervor’s might,
A symphony of unity, in football’s light.

9. The Football Victory

       by Anonymous

Sweet taste of triumph, victory’s embrace,
The game’s finale, a winning race.
Sweat-drenched smiles, a joyous cry,
A victory dance, beneath the sky.

10. The Football Family

       by Anonymous

Bound by the beautiful game,
A football family, their love aflame.
Through generations, the passion passed,
A legacy cherished, forever to last.

11. The Game

       by Grantl and Rice

The game is played on a rectangular field,
With goals at either end, a simple deal.
Two teams of eleven men each.
Battle for victory, no time to slack.

12. Football

       by Ralph Hodgson

Football, football, the game of games,
With its rushing throngs and clashing names.
From the snap to the final whistle,
It’s a battle royal, no time to trifle.

13. The Quarterback

       by John Updike

The quarterback, a general on the field,
Directs his troops with speed and zeal.
He calls the signals, he makes the plays,
Leading his team to victory, night or days.

14. The Running Back

       by William Matthews

The running back, a workhorse pure and simple,
Takes the handoff, runs with nimble feet.
He dodges tacklers, breaks away,
A threat to score, a joy to behold, a treat.

15. The Wide Receiver

       by Richard Wilbur

The wide receiver, a master of the art,
Catches passes with grace and finesse and heart.
He sprints downfield, eludes the defense,
A one-man show, a dance of elegance.

16. The Linemen

       by Stephen Vincent Benet

The linemen, unsung heroes of the game,
Their names unknown, their glory still the same.
They block and push, they struggle and strive,
Their sweat and toil, a silent sacrifice.

17. The Kicker

       by Ogden Nash

The kicker, a specialist, a man apart,
His job to boot the ball, a tricky start.
He lines up, takes aim, swings his leg,
A moment of truth, a tale to beg.

18. The Interception

       by Robert Frost

The interception, a turn of fate’s wheel,
A sudden twist, a change of fortune’s deal.
The ball is snatched from the air, a thief,
A dramatic shift, a new lease on belief.

19. The Touchdown

       by Vachel Lindsay

The touchdown, a culmination of desire,
A climax reached, a passionate fire.
The crowd erupts, a roar of delight,
A moment of triumph, a burst of light.

20. The Final Whistle

       by James Wright

The final whistle, a sound so sweet,
A signal ends, a story unique.
The game is done, a winner declared,
A memory etched, forever embedded.

21. Goalie’s Groove

       by Kick Quipster

In gloves of green, the goalie sways,
A dance of dives, in sun or haze.
With nimble feet and reflex true,
The net, a challenge to subdue.

22. Footwork Frenzy

       by Luna Limerick

Cleats on grass, a rhythmic beat,
Players dance, both nimble and fleet.
Left, right, a dazzling display,
Football magic, in the fray.

23. Half-Time Haiku

       by Chuckle Blossom

Whistle blows, a pause in play,
Fans in chatter, thoughts astray.
Orange slices, halftime glee,
Soon, back to the football sea.

24. Soccer Sonnet

       by Poet Cleats

Eleven players, one shared goal,
The pitch, a stage for heart and soul.
Through passes crisp and goals so sweet,
The beautiful game, our hearts it beats.

25. Corner Kick Chuckle

       by Grin Goalpost

In the corner, tension brews,
A kick so high, the crowd reviews.
Heads collide, the ball takes flight,
Victory, just out of sight.

Inspirational Football Poems

Have you ever read a poem that made your heart race and your passion ignite? If not, then these inspirational poems about football may just be what you need. Not only are they incredibly inspiring, but they also capture the essence of the game in a way that’s truly captivating. Trust us, you won’t be disappointed!

1. The Game of Life

       by Anonymous

On the field of life, we play our part,
With every tackle, every start.
Through trials and errors, we learn to grow,
In this grand game, we come to know.

2. The Unwavering Spirit

       by Anonymous

When the odds are stacked against,
And the path ahead seems dim.
Remember the spirit that lies within,
The unwavering will, the fight to win.

3. The Power of Teamwork

       by Anonymous

Together we stand, a team as one,
United in purpose, victory’s sun.
With every pass, with every move,
We rise as one, our spirit will prove.

4. The Resilience of the Human Spirit

       by Anonymous

Bouncing back from every fall,
Learning from mistakes, standing tall.
The human spirit, a force so grand,
Resilient and strong, on victory’s strand.

5. The Chase of Dreams

       by Anonymous

With dreams ablaze, we chase our goals,
Through every obstacle, our spirit unfolds.
With passion as fuel, we strive to soar,
Reaching for the heights, forevermore.

6. The Never-Ending Pursuit of Excellence

       by Anonymous

In the pursuit of excellence, we strive,
To better ourselves, to keep alive.
The burning desire, the endless quest,
To be the best, to be put to the test.

7. The Beauty of the Game

       by Anonymous

In the dance of the ball, the art of the game,
A symphony of movement, a passionate flame.
The beauty unfolds, in every stride,
In the pursuit of victory, we take pride.

8. The Legacy We Leave Behind

       by Anonymous

The legacy we leave, not just in wins,
But in the spirit we carry within.
The lessons we learn, the friendships we make,
In the beautiful game, our hearts will awake.

9. The Undying Passion for Football

       by Anonymous

A passion that ignites, a flame so bright,
For the beautiful game, day and night.
Through generations, the love will endure,
In the hearts of fans, forever pure.

10. The Ode to Football

       by Anonymous

Oh, football, you game of grace,
Where passion and skill interlace.
You bring us joy, you bring us pain,
But one thing’s certain, you’ll always reign.

11. The Spirit of the Game

       by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The spirit of the game, it lives and thrives,
In every player, in every dive.
It’s the love of competition, the thrill of strife,
That drives us forward, through life.

12. Victory

       by William Wordsworth

Victory, oh victory, thou art a glorious thing,
A crown of laurel, a shout of joy that rings.
Thou art the goal, the prize, the ultimate quest,
That drives us forth, and puts our spirits to the test.

13. The Player’s Creed

       by Anonymous

I am a football player, a warrior true,
My creed is honor, my duty, to pursue.
I fight for victory, for my team, for my cause,
With every fiber, with every ounce of my force.

14. The Team

       by Edgar Guest

The team, a band of brothers, united strong,
Together they fight, for victory’s song.
Each player a thread, in the fabric of the whole,
Together they form, a tapestry of soul.

15. The Coach

       by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The coach, a leader, a mentor, a guide,
A father figure, who stands by your side.
He teaches you skills, he builds your pride,
He helps you find, what lies deep inside.

16. Perseverance

       by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Perseverance, a virtue, a skill, a might,
That helps us rise, above the darkest night.
It’s the fire within, that burns bright and true,
That drives us forward, whatever we pursue.

17. Courage

       by Robert Service

Courage, a quality that shines like the sun
A vital spark, that’s found in everyone.
It’s the brave heart that beats within our chest
That helps us face danger, and never rest.

18. Teamwork

       by John Donne

Teamwork, a bond, that ties us tight,
A rope of unity, that holds us fast and bright.
Together we work, together we strive,
For success, for victory, we all come alive.

19. The Love of the Game

       by Thomas Hardy

The love of the game, it’s a feeling so grand,
A passion that burns, like a burning brand.
It’s the joy of playing, the thrill of the fray,
That keeps us coming back, day after day.

20. Champions

       by Carl Sandburg

Champions, they are the ones, who dare to dream,
Who work hard, who strive, who persevere and scheme.
They’re the leaders, the winners, the best of the pack,
Whose names are etched, in the annals of attack.

21. Fields of Dreams

       by Hope Harmony

Across the fields where dreams take flight,
Young players, hearts pure and light.
Goals are not just on the pitch,
They’re the dreams each player’ll enrich.

22. The Captain’s Call

       by Brave Leader

Captain bold, with armband pride,
Leads the team, stride by stride.
Through challenges and victories tall,
Inspiring hearts with the captain’s call.

23. The Beautiful Game

       by Serene Poet

In every pass, a world revealed,
The beautiful game, a fate sealed.
Feet that dance, a ball that soars,
Football’s magic, forever yours.

24. Rising Phoenix

       by Phoenix Riser

From defeats, a phoenix rise,
Wings of hope, to the skies.
Losses are but stepping stones,
Victory’s anthem, in every bone.

25. The Keeper’s Resolve

       by Steadfast Guardian

In the box where courage dwells,
The keeper’s spirit, the story tells.
Blocking shots with fearless might,
A guardian’s stance in the goal’s twilight.

26. Unity Anthem

       by Spirit Serenade

Eleven hearts, one beating sound,
Unity in each kick, all around.
Teamwork weaves a tapestry,
Victory, born of harmony.

27. The Extra Mile

       by Perseverance Poet

Beyond the pitch, beyond the game,
Success isn’t won in just the fame.
It’s the extra mile, the unseen strife,
That shapes a player’s vibrant life.

28. Goal of the Heart

       by Soul Striker

Beyond the posts, where goals reside,
There lies a goal, deep inside.
A dream, a passion, burning bright,
Igniting souls, in the football night.

29. Fan’s Anthem

       by Echo Cheer

From the stands, a roar ascends,
Fans united, as friendship blends.
Through highs and lows, we stand tall,
Football’s anthem, heard by all.

30. Victory’s Echo

       by Triumph Verse

In the final whistle’s sweet embrace,
Victory echoes, a joyous chase.
Dreams fulfilled on the football field,
Triumph’s anthem, never concealed.

Football Poems That Rhyme

Do you love football and poetry, but never thought they could go hand in hand? Think again, because these poems about football with rhyme are absolutely amazing! Reading them will ignite your passion for the game and bring a new level of appreciation for the art of writing. Check them out!

1. The Gridiron’s

       by CallBy Bard

Beneath the lights, the crowd ablaze,
The gridiron’s call, a thrilling daze.
Helmets clash, the ball takes flight,
In this grand game, where passion ignites.

2. The Pigskin’s Dance

       by Anonymous

The pigskin’s dance, a graceful flight,
Through the air it soars, a wondrous sight.
Spiral and spin, it takes its course,
A quarterback’s touch, a winning force.

3. The End Zone’s Promise

       by Anonymous

Towards the end zone, they charge with might,
A touchdown’s promise, shining bright.
The crowd erupts, a thunderous cheer,
In this grand moment, victory draws near.

4. The Fourth Quarter’s Fight

       by Anonymous

The clock ticks down, the tension high,
In the fourth quarter, victory we’ll try.
With grit and will, we push ahead,
Determination burning, in every step we tread.

5. The Hail Mary Pass

       by Anonymous

A hail Mary pass, a desperate plea,
A last-ditch effort, to set us free.
The ball soars high, through the air it flies,
Hoping for a miracle, as the tension lies.

6. The Coach’s Words

       by Anonymous

The coach’s words, like guiding stars,
Inspire belief, banish all scars.
With faith and trust, we take the field,
Our coach’s wisdom, our hearts will yield.

7. The Teamwork Triumph

       by Anonymous

United as one, a team so strong,
In teamwork’s triumph, we rise along.
With every pass, with every tackle made,
Our bond grows stronger, victory’s cascade.

8. The Football Fan’s Devotion

       by Anonymous

Through wins and losses, their loyalty stands,
The football fan’s devotion, across the lands.
With colors proudly worn, and voices raised,
Their passion for the game, forever praised.

9. The Game of Memories

       by Anonymous

In the game of memories, we find our worth,
Moments of glory, moments of rebirth.
The thrill of the chase, the victory’s sweet taste,
Forever etched, in our hearts’ embrace.

10. The Football Legacy

       by Anonymous

Legends of the game, their names enshrined,
In the halls of fame, their stories entwined.
Their passion, their skill, their legacy grand,
An inspiration to all, across the land.

11. The Gridiron

       by Grantl and Rice

The gridiron, a field of green,
Where giants clash, where heroes are seen.
The battle rages, the crowds cheer,
As champions are made, year after year.

12. The Quarterback

       by Ogden Nash

The quarterback, a man of great renown,
Whose arm is strong, whose brain is crowned.
He calls the signals, he runs with grace,
And leads his team to victory’s place.

13. The Running Back

       by E. Pauline Johnson

The running back, a man of speed,
With legs that fly, with feet that bleed.
He dashes left, he dodges right,
And carries all before him in his flight.

14. The Linemen

       by Alan Seeger

The linemen, brawny men of might,
Who guard the line, who hold it tight.
Their strength is vast, their hearts are pure,
They are the wall that blocks the foe for sure.

15. The Kicker

       by Richard Hovey

The kicker, a man of steady nerve,
Who boots the ball, who watches it swerve.
He waits for chance, he takes his time,
And sends the pigskin flying, straight as a crime.

16. The Catch

       by Robert Frost

The catch, a moment of sheer delight,
When hands outstretch, when bodies take flight.
The ball is thrown, it soars through space,
And finds its home, in a receiver’s embrace.

The Tackle by Gwendolyn Brooks
The tackle, a scene of fierce intent,
When players collide, when bones are bent.
The runner tries, he struggles to break free,
But arms enclose, a victim he must be.

17. The Pass

       by Langston Hughes

The pass, a play of beauty rare,
When quarterbacks throw, when receivers share.
The ball is passed, it travels high and low,
And brings applause, from friend and foe below.

18. The Blitz

       by Countee Cullen

The blitz, a strategy of might,
When defenders rush, when offenses take flight.
The quarterback’s threatened, he must act fast,
Or risk being sacked, and watching the past.

19. The Endzone

       by Claude McKay

The endzone, a land of promise kept,
Where touchdowns dance, where glory’s sealed and slept.
The players strive, they push and pull,
Until they reach, this holy grail of football’s full.

20. The Ballad of the Pitch

       by Anonymous

On the green where players run,
The ball in play, a match begun.
With every kick, a rhythmic rhyme,
A football symphony, quite sublime.

21. Kickin’ Rhyme

       by Anonymous

Cleats on grass, a poetic feat,
Every dribble, a rhythm beat.
Through the posts, the ball chimes,
Football’s language, written in rhymes.

22. Striker’s Song

       by Anonymous

Striker’s boot, a lyric’s grace,
Goals scored in an artful chase.
Each shot sung, in goal’s embrace,
Rhyming victories, the striker’s case.

23. Pitch Poetry

       by Anonymous

A sonnet on the soccer field,
Clever passes, yields they yield.
In rhyming verses, a story told,
The pitch, a sonnet, ageless and bold.

24. Dance of the Cleats

       by Anonymous

On the field where cleats entwine,
A waltz of footwork, so divine.
Rhyming steps, a dance of might,
Football’s rhythm, pure delight.

25. The Goalpost’s Rhyme

       by Anonymous

Goalpost standing, tall and true,
In rhyming lines, a silent cue.
Balls that rhyme, in the net they climb,
The goalpost’s poem, written in time.

26. Referee’s Refrain

       by Anonymous

Whistle blows, a rhyming call,
Referee’s decree, heard by all.
Cards of red, cards of yellow,
In rhyming verses, fair play’s bellow.

27. Half-Time Harmony

       by Anonymous

At halftime, a moment’s pause,
Lyrics sung, in fans’ applause.
Rhyming cheers, like a melody,
Football’s interlude, sweet and free.

28. Soccer Serenade

       by Anonymous

Across the pitch, a serenade,
Football’s love, in goals displayed.
Rhyming verses, sung in glee,
The ball’s sweet song, for all to see.

29. Final Whistle’s Rhyme

       by Anonymous

Final whistle, echoes clear,
Rhyming cheers, draw near.
In victory or defeat, the rhyme,
Football’s poetry, stands the test of time.

Football Poems for Kids

These amazing poems about football for kids are the perfect way to spark your child’s passion for the sport. Whether your little one is already a football fanatic or just starting to learn about the game, these poems are sure to captivate them and leave them wanting more. Check out them today and watch your child’s love for the game grow stronger!

1. Our Teacher’s a Football Fanatic

       by Kenn Nesbitt

Our teacher’s a football fanatic.
It’s all that he has on his mind.
He listens to games on his headphones,
and frets when his team is behind.

He jumps up and down with they’re winning.
He screams when they fumble a pass.
We know we’re supposed to be reading,
but watching him’s simply a gas.

Our principal walked in on Friday
and he was too angry to speak.
Our substitute started on Monday.
Our teacher’s been benched for a week.

2. The Football Game

       by Alan Loren

Blitz and blocking, bump –and-run
Drive and drop kick, the other team’s done
End zone, end line, ebb and flow
Snap, sack, scrambling, I love it so
Football is fun and fabulous too
Let’s go to the stadium, just me and you

3. Night Player

       by Liam

My dad loves football
He even plays it in his dreams.
Mum doesn’t mind,
But when the whistle blows she screams.

4. The Football Game Is on TV

       by Kenn Nesbitt

The football game is on TV.
The chips are in the bowl.
We’re totally excited and
about to lose control.

Our living room has turned into
a huge, chaotic scene.
We’re madly jumping up and down.
We’re screaming at the screen.

My mom and dad are yelling
while my baby brother wails.
My sister’s sitting on the sofa
chewing on her nails.

I’m running all around the room
as if I’ve lost my mind.
It’s not because our team’s ahead.
It’s not that they’re behind.

The reason that we’re shouting
and we’re running all about,
is that the game was tied and then
the Internet went out.

5. Football

       by Aaron Tone

No matter the weather,
No matter the pain,
The kick always starts the game,
The team runs it back as far as they can
And the opposing team must defend
Run or pass you don’t want to finish last.
Four fifteen minute quarters to decide the winner.

Practice is the key to a successful team
Playoffs are where they want to be.
The loser goes home empty handed
And the winner moves on.

With the Super Bowl in view
The lucky few will take home all the glory.
And that’s the end of my story.

6. Future Superstar

       by Robert Pettit

The world welcomes a newborn baby boy.
To the mother and father, he is a bundle of joy.
Right now of course, he is so small.
It won’t be long before he is big and tall.
As a defensive lineman, he will hone his attack.
The boy will have no trouble sacking the quarterback.
He will control the boards, slam dunk, and grab every rebound.
I’m sure a sports superstar will be found.

7. Hooray For October

       by Jennifer Soeder

Pumpkin patches, Halloween,
Crunchy leaves of brown
Cool mornings, bond fires,
and the best haunted houses in town

Hooray for October

Fall festivals, cool nights,
pep rallies and football,
Breaks from school, ghost stories,
branch filled trees, and the beginning of fall

Hooray for October

Walks in the park, apple cider, the smell of pumpkin pie
Cuddling up next to a fireplace, trick or treating,
and the twinkle in a child’s eye

Hooray for October

8. A Football Mothers Prayer

       by Anonymous

In the fall, it is time for the football season.
Mothers go to the game, but for one reason,
What is the reason? Let there be no denial,
It’s to see if her son gets up from the pile!

Oh, she may have lots of pep, and do all the cheers,
and she hasn’t missed a game in many a year.
But she doesn’t do it just to keep in style,
It’s to see if her son gets up from the pile

She keeps tracks of the score and acts very alert,
Wondering how to get the bloodstains out of his shirt.
She always sits on her seat right on the aisle,
Just in case he doesn’t get up from the pile!

When the whistle blows, she strains her eyes,
For the jersey number she’s memorized.
She’ll sit quite still, heart stopped all the while,
Til’ she sees that number come up from the pile!

She’ll stand and shout, “My son stopped the play!”
“Sit down, dear, he clipped,” is all Dad can say.
She may not know a punt from a telephone dial,
But she knows when her son gets up from the pile!

Good ol’ Mom, she’s a dear, & your very best fan,
But you’ll be her little boy even when you’re a man,
She makes all your games, you think with a smile,
Just to see if “her baby” gets up from the pile!

9. Victory Dance

       by Robert Candler

To play as if today
Is your only chance.
Some say, “It’s just a game.”
Have they done the Victory Dance?

When hard-earned Victory
Was finally at hand,
Have they felt the glory
Raining down from the stands?

To do or not to do….
No one wants to hear, “We tried.”
Effort and dedication will be rewarded…
They are the magic on your side.

Yes, to fall short is still an option;
But much better to succeed.
Heroes are made and remembered
Only by their deeds.

So, just go out and win.
Give your all to each and every chance.
Persevere and achieve…

And do the Victory Dance.

10. It is More Than a Game

       by Ettie Christian

Some people would say that Football is just a game,
Others say life and football are the same.
That it is more than just making calls,
And throwing a funny shaped ball,
Some say its about the intensity and passion above all,
Its a feeling they get on the field after they win a game.
It does not matter if it rains or snows,
They will be out there,
Because football is all they know,
So if you ask them is football just a game?
They will answer that quick and without any shame!

11. All the Thoughts at a Football Game

       by Juan Felipe Herrera

There are baby thoughts
in the shape of seaweed & pirate knives
they float over strips of shores &
curl into a rainy parasol where
a laboring red papaya truck awaits
& there are the thoughts of Staff Sergeant

Melanie Lippman—she’s back
from Afghanistan & cheers as a
rhomboid ball burns
through the flags of space—

but she
notices distant jagged
zones on fire where the Company battles &
here are the thoughts of a father

Don Jose Emiliano in plaid
with water on his face—his only son
on the wet field
for the first time—he is a man now
how his fury tumbles &
finds a route
to launch & spin his body
toward a shifting goal—is that

my son he says.

Football Poems for Players

Are you looking for a way to ignite the fire in your players and get them pumped up for the big game? These football poems for players are absolutely incredible. So why wait? Check out these amazing poems today and watch as they light a fire in your team that they will never forget!

1. The Footballer’s Prayer

       by Anonymous

Our team
Which art eleven
Hallowed be thy game
Our match be won
Their score be none
On turf as we score at least seven
Give us today no daily red … card
And forgive us our lost passes
As we forgive those
Who lose passes against us
Lead us not into retaliation
And deliver us from penalties
For three is the kick off
The power and scorer
For ever and ever
Full time

2. The Goalie with Expanding Hands

       by Korky Paul

Any crosses, any shots
I will simply stop the lot
I am always in demand
The goalie with expanding hands
Volleys, blasters, scissor kicks
I am safe between the sticks
All attacks I will withstand
The goalie with expanding hands
Free kicks or a penalty
No-one ever scores past me
Strong and bold and safe I’ll stand
The goalie with expanding hands
Let their strikers be immense
I’m the last line of defence
Alert, on duty, all posts manned
The goalie with expanding hands
Palms as long as arms expand
Thumbs and fingers ready fanned
You may as well shoot in the stand
Not a chance! Understand?
Number one in all the land
Superhuman, super-spanned
In control and in command
I’m the man, I’m the man
The one and only goalie … with my expanding hands

3. We Believe in Football

       by Anonymous

FOOTBALL – WE LIVE IT
FOOTBALL – WE LOVE IT
FOOTBALL – WE BREATHE IT
WE BELIEVE IN FOOTBALL
A ninety minute drama
Each story yet untold
The tension, twists and turns
We watch it all unfold
The heroes and the villains
The tears and the laughter
But no-one guarantees
A happy ever after
The past is always with us
Those ties we cannot sever
The triumphs and the tragedies
That bring us all together
The legacy of legends
Both on and off the pitch
We all know our history
Munich, Hillsborough, Sixty Six
The deftness and the touches
The balance and control
Telepathic vision
The special wonder goal
The something out of nothings
These mesmerising tricks
We practise in the playground
What’s perfect on the pitch
Artisans and artists
Creative and instinctive
Old masters and young mavericks
Style and poise distinctive
Admired time and time again
We marvel at the art of it
Each picture tells a story
So glad we are a part of it
We believe in hope
We believe in dreams
Anything is possible
The future yet unseen
On any given match day
Eleven vee eleven
We could punch above our weight
Be in football heaven
Be it baggy shirts and brylcreem
A mullet or moustache
Football equals stylishness
Each little touch of class
This game that we call beautiful
The craft, technique and guile
Whatever the result
Let’s win or lose in style
The passion on the pitch
The passion in the stands
The importance of our earnestness
Right across this land
Nine, nineteen or ninety nine
We still have that dream
To score the winning goal
For our favourite football team
Football – We live it
Football – We love it
Football – We Breathe it
We Believe In Football

4. Blessed Is the People’S Club

       by David France

Blessed are the tea makers
Burger fryers, meat pie bakers
Turn-style turners, ticket takers
All the movers, all the shakers
Blessed are the boot scrapers
The ones who push the mowers
Water sprinklers, grass growers
The ones who keep the pitches clean
The ones who paint the white on green
Those who serve in canteens
All of those who work unseen
All the ladies, all the fellas
Toffee girls and programme sellers
The ones who are the central hub
Blessed is the People’s Club
Blessed are the traffic directors
Litter pickers, rubbish collectors
All the stewards who respect us
All the high viz jacket wearers
All the information sharers
Those who lay the tables
Those connecting cables
Those who help the ones who help the ones
Who are less abled
Those who show us to our seats
Those who make our day complete
Those who sell the snacks we eat
Those who cook, then serve the grub
Blessed is the People’s Club
Blessed are the ones whose work
Is to brush away the dirt
The ones who wash and press the shirts
Those who brave the post match fumes
Just to mop the changing rooms
The ones who iron corner flags
And unfold all the netting
The ones who paint the goal posts white
Paint the stands and mend the seats
All the others we’re forgetting
Remember them and so we should
We’d all do it if we could
Blessed is the People’s Club

Blessed are the ones who cheer
Year on year on year on year
Those who buy their tickets weekly
The loud, the proud, the mild, the meekly
Those who carry on discretely
Absolutely and completely
Those who travel far and wide
Wear the badge and scarf with pride
Start off early – get back late
The sacrifices that they make
All the time commitment takes
Those with every ticket stub
Those who cheer on down the pub
Blessed is the People’s Club
Those who shout out from the stands
Cheer, applaud and clap their hands
Every woman, every man
Every granddad, every gran
Every dad and every mam
Uncle John and Auntie Pam
Nephews, nieces, cousins and
Brothers, sister – all the clan
All part of our family plan
All the ones who understand
All are welcome – none are snubbed
Blessed is The People’s Club
Blessed are the hallowed names
Who walked on water, changed the games
Hanging in the halls of fame
Those memories relived again
Those foundations of our past
Built to lead and built to last
Immortalised in history
Spoken of in reverie
Heroes here for you and me
Those who toiled and gave their all
Fought for every single ball
Those who answered every call
Those who always understood
Blessed is the People’s Club

Those who were just passing through
Those who had a job to do
Who only played a game or two
Even they chose royal blue
Those who played and made the grade
Those that shine and those that fade
Bit part extras in the shade
Those who went and those who stayed
Those that got to live our dreams
Trained and managed, picked the teams
All important in the schemes
All the great and all the good
Blessed is the People’s Club
Everyone who plays their part
Carries us within their heart
In the light and in the dark
All supporters – true and loyal
Proud to choose the blue that’s royal
From the Chairman and the board
To the ones who sweep the floors
All of these – and us – and more
Irrespective of the score
Whether we win, lose or draw
We all know what we’re here for
We all know our history
Know the place where we should be
It is you – it is me
It is us – it is we
When all is said and all is done
Nil Satis Nisi Optimum
This our home, Goodison
A lifetime’s love for everyone
We’re forever Everton
It’s the blue within our blood
It’s the team that we all love
Friends, we are
Friends, we are
Friends, we are
The People’s Club

5. Last of the Corinthians

       by Anonymous

For Brian Labone
First among men
Second to no-one
Last of the Corinthians
Brian Labone
Captain of my chosen team
Captain of champions
Not a shouter, not a screamer
But a leader by example
Noble, selfless,
Intelligent and principled
Last of the Corinthians
Brian Labone
Epitome of all that’s good
Epitome of Goodison
England white or Toffee blue
Evertonian through and through
Respecter of all
Respected by all
Last of the Corinthians
Brian Labone
As hard as they come
But no tough man image
Only ever booked twice
Gentleman giant
One club man
Royal and blue
Last of the Corinthians
Brian Labone
You never let us down
Never let yourself down
Decent and honest
A shining example
First among men
Second to no-one
Last of the Corinthians
Brian Labone

6. Everyday Hero

       by Anonymous

I still can’t believe the news
The man who was perpetual motion has stopped
The man who never said die has
My first favourite player
The one who caused me to choose the blue of Goodison
The royal blue, his royal blue
I cannot think of football without thinking of you
Central to the glory that was sixty six
One of Everton’s holy trinity
Your distinctive white boots
The one whose boots I wanted
The one who I wanted to be
Of course I loved the power of Charlton
Revered the skills of Best
But also knew my limits
Instead, I aligned myself more with you
Making the most of what I had
And compensating the rest with effort, will and the desire to win
I never knew you, but like all our heroes on the field of dreams
We feel like we know you all
The men who lived out and did what we all wanted to
You have always been there
And no, I never knew you
But did meet you just the once
And you did not disappoint
A laugh, a joke and a photograph
No airs, no graces, down to earth, approachable
A star but no star attitude
Everything I wanted you to be
I still can’t believe the news
Impossible to think that you are gone
But what you left us, what you gave us
Will last a lifetime, outlive our lifetimes
You were one of the greats
You are one of the greats
Always will be, now and forever
Everyone will remember Alan Ball and smile

7. Lest We Forget

       by Anonymous

Remember not the tragedy, the shadows of the memory,
The sadness and the sense of waste but the one you used to be.
The majesty and trickery, the entertaining joy,
The impish smile and twinkling eyes of Belfast’s golden boy
The stardom and the skill, the quick and dancing feet
Audacious with both left and right, inventive and complete
You touched our lives with magic and gave us all a dream
You, the one we tried to be when playing for our team
A genius on the pitch, you stood above the rest
Poetry in motion, George – you were the Best.

8. The Prettiest Star

       by Aonymous

Playing in the school playground
Or on the local rec’ on a Saturday afternoon
Yours was the name we echoed
The elite – Best, Charlton, Law
But you were the one we wanted to be,
Beating everyone – twice – then scoring spectacularly
Seemingly effortless, almost casual
You were blessed beyond belief
Astounding us with your endless creativity
And as your star faded more with each false dawn
And the shadows lengthened into tragedy and parody
The magic lost some of its sparkle and sheen
But we want to remember you
As you were at the beginning
Not as you were at the end
We want to remember and say
That we truly saw one of football’s greatest,
We were there, we were part of it all
And as we see those replays once more,
Those mazy runs, those twists and turns and tricks,
Your magic sparkles once again
And we can indeed remember
The brightest star,
The god who danced among us for a while
George, you were blessed
Your name said everything
George – you were the Best
These two go together – another response to the passing of a legend.

9. The Gridiron

       by Ralph Waldo Emerson

The gridiron, a field of strife,
Where men collide, their strength and life.
A battleground, where heroes rise,
And legends born, before our eyes.

10. The Quarterback

       by Edgar Allan Poe

Deep into the pocket, he drops back,
His arm a cannon, his vision attack.
He scans the field, a general true,
His leadership, teammates trust anew.

11. The Running Back

       by Walt Whitman

With ball in hand, he takes the field,
A force of nature, unyielding steel.
Through holes and gaps, he bursts ahead,
His footwork swift, his path unsaid.

12. The Wide Receiver

       by Robert Frost

He runs his route, a wily guest,
A master of deception, at his best.
He fakes and spins, a dance divine,
The defense confused, in a twist of design.

13. The Lineman

       by Carl Sandburg

In trenches deep, they battle fiercely,
The unsung heroes, their names unclearly.
They push and pull, a wall of strength,
Their labor hidden, their honor length.

14. The Linebacker

       by William Ernest Henley

Amidst the chaos, he stands tall,
A warrior, steadfast through it all.
He reads the play, a mind so keen,
His tackles sure, his spirit clean.

15. The Defensive Back

       by Paul Laurence Dunbar

He patrols the secondary, a sentinel true,
A guardian of the goal, his duty anew.
He covers tight, a shadow fast,
His instincts sharp, his passion vast.

16. The Kicker

       by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

With nerve of steel, he takes his aim,
A pressure cooker, his name in fame.
He kicks the ball, a mighty swing,
His focus pure, his spirit sing.

17. The Coach

       by Vachel Lindsay

A leader, teacher, mentor, guide,
A father figure, by his players’ side.
He strategizes, a mastermind,
His wisdom learned, his heart entwined.

18. The Team

       by John Greenleaf Whittier

United we stand, a band of brothers,
A family bound, by love and mothers.
Together we fight, for victory’s sake,
Our bond unbreakable, for football’s stake.

Final Thoughts

It’s impossible to deny the beauty of well-crafted poems about football, and this collection excels at showcasing that.

Whether you’re someone who loves football or not, reading through these football poems provides an insight into how this sport truly brings out the passion in people from all around the world.

Football is such a universal game that transcends language, borders, age, and gender and it’s no wonder so many poets have taken up the task of articulating their feelings about the game through their art.

The collective messages this football poetry send are powerful and nothing short of magnificent.

Please comment in the comments section below about this post if there are any other football poems that you feel should be included!

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