The roar of the crowd

under Goodison lights

sounds like local thunder,

as excitement grips this undervalued

part of Liverpool’s heritage,

the support of a team not remembered

in the karaoke bars of Japan,

or in the wild nights of the romantic

as they cling to a thought of red

glories past, under the beauty of

Shankly, under the watchful gaze

of Liverbird success.

 

The battle cry of opposition,

Blue Moon rings out, is as boisterous

as the words of sagely wisdom

emanating from my neighbours

as I huddle, shrink down, silently hold

my gaze out to the sea of light

blue and dark blue joined in vocal

combat and miss the days when I

sang that tune

of loneliness redeemed

and I feel that loss

as the lights of Goodison rage on.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016