Fame – Skirtingroundmylife

For 90 Minutes I Have To Remember Not To Love You (For Nicola Docherty)

In this poem I hope I show that at least in women’s football it is possible to like a player from an opposing side . You know the mortal enemy and a side who in other circumstances you wouldn’t want to win a raffle even if they bought every ticket bar one. As some of you may have guessed by my rather tounge in cheek introduction this poem is for a Rangers player. The player in question is perhaps unsurprisingly a former Glasgow City stalwart , Scotland full back Nicola Docherty who left us at the beginning of 2020 to join the club she had always supported. Well as we say at Glasgow City when you become involved with the club you soon realise that Once City Always City actually means exactly what it says and binds us together as one big happy if slightly mad family . It is for this reason that I’ve given it the title For 90 Minutes I Have To Remember Not To Love You. I hope you enjoy the read.

For 90 Minutes I Have To Remember Not To Love You (For Nicola Docherty)

You were always a rock in the heart of defence
when you wore our colours
now other supporters cheer you on
it is their fans who chant your name to the skies
the heart never lies and your smile
tells the world
how happy you are to play for the club
you’ve supported since you were a girl
I know how much it means to you
to wear the Rangers blue
as well as the darker hue of your country
but when your playing for our rivals
for 90 minutes I have to remember not to love you
this is not as easy as I would like it to be
you see you’d be a stonewall cert
to captain my equality eleven
a courageous leader on mission to win
and not just during the game
fairness not fame has always been
your way
you play the same as you’ve always done
a fierce tackler and a ferocious defender
you have the equalities agenda
in the centre circle of your world
you champion women and girls
with the same passion you show
whenever you pull on the jersey
and give all you have from kick off to final whistle
it’s always been the way you are
you never shirk a challenge nor will you ever do
no matter what shade of blue you’re wearing
your good positional sense dictates that you play it with care
it’s always been your tactic of choice
your loyalties can never be questioned
wearing your crest with pride illustrates the hallmark of the quality defender you are
combining a brave heart and an even braver head
which is why I need to try as best I can
to remember your an opponent now
you no longer grace our colours
so for 90 minutes I have to pretend
not to love you
and then when the final whistle blows
Remember exactly why I do

Ripples

In this poem I relate the story of developing a rather unexpected woman crush on a member of the Olympic commentary team.
I’ve given it the title Ripples. I hope you enjoy the read.

Ripples

You can tell she was born
for moments like this
an Olympian herself
she knows what it’s like
not just to compete
but also to achieve
stand at the top of the podium
with gold as her colour
it suits more than silver or bronze
though red would bring out the colour of her lips
far better than the shades she wears
for the cameras
on late night television
now in the warmth of the studio
she causes ripples
when I see her smile
and I blush giving thanks
that the lipstick on my coffee cup
will keep her name a secret
never to be spoken anywhere
but my dreams
in which I embrace
the face of the games
enjoying a taste of Tokyo
as I prepare myself for the night
and the delights of secret desires

Skipper (For Amy Muir)

As most of you will know I am a big fan of the Scotland Women’s Football team and in this poem I highlight a young player who has already captained our 19’s and who I’m certain will one day be a fixture in the full international side. The player in question is Amy Muir and for obvious reasons I’ve given it the title Skipper I hope you enjoy the read.

Skipper (For Amy Muir)

The star of the under 19’s
she had dreams that touched the stars .
kissing all the planets
in our solar system and beyond .
even the andromdia galaxy ,
knew her name .
a captain destined for greater fame
than James T Kirk or Jean Luc Picard
the youth team where she honed her skills
has sent this girl to the full Scotland squad
she received her colours
when we played on Gibraltan soil
in the Pinnatar cup.
but this time it’s different
this time there are points to be won to qualify for tournament Finals .
a test of nerve, in which composure will be vital
is the perfect way to announce her arrival on the international stage .
though, I wish it could have waited ,
till things returned to normal and crowds were allowed back in to grounds.
she deserves to hear the sound ,
of supporters, singing the national anthem .
bursting our lungs for the full 90 minutes
in that unique tartan army way
part prayer part rant .
almost like a cheerleading chant
from the best romantic comedies .
but this dream was made in Scotland
with no Holywood glamour
anywhere to be seen
now the star of the under 19’s
steps up to the jersey she was destined to wear
and the girl I call skipper
fulfils a girlhood dream
with a call up to the national team as we chant her name proudly to all in our solar system and beyond
we ask the stars to shine like Saltaires
wrapped in tartan scarves
forget the treking of Kirk and Picard
this is the moment the journey starts
for Amy.

Number 6 (For Jo Love)

As I’m sure we’re all aware during this lockdown Thursday evenings have become synonymous with clapping for our NHS and key workers. One such key worker is Glasgow City and Scotland midfield star Jo Love whose current job is assisting in the production of hand sanitiser which is so crucial to us in these important times. In this poem I pay tribute to a team player and a star both on the park and off. I would like to thank Jo’s team mate and friend Hayley Lauder who provided a perfect summary of what Jo brings to the team in her best ever starting eleven video which I watched last night after watching our under 19’s beat Hearts in the chosen game on City TV As for the title I’ve went for only possible choice that would do Jo justice and that’s Number 6 as that’s the number she wears on her jersey. I hope you enjoy the read .

Number 6 (For Jo Love)

Dear Friends

If you value key workers
I’ve a story I want you to know
and then I’ve a favour to ask of you all
will you please show some love for our Jo

Her name may not be known to you
she doesn’t seek glory or fame
but when it comes to football
she plays an intelligent game

You see Jo does the simple things
and always does them right
she just steps up and gets on with her job

in football and in life

A team player on and off the park
our coolest penelty taker
is helping us now to beat the threat
of a very different danger

This threat it plays a dirty game
in ways that can’t be seen
In case you haven’t sussed it yet
I’m talking of Covid19

You see Jo works in a lab by day
and she’s helping to produce
the hand sanitiser that everyone needs
but you’ll never see her on the news

Yet still she just gets on with things
the way she’s always done
our number 6 will never give up
until this fight is won

She keeps her head in the difficult times
ask Brondby fans they’ll know
she’s a key player for City who always steps up
so please show some love for our Jo

Wonder Woman Lives

In this poem I look at the world of superheroes and I ask why there so few female icons in the world of cartoon and comic book creations. The answer is as we all know, because men or should I say boys controlled and to a large extent still control the narrative of these genres and they conform to the view that boys are active and girls are passive. This of course is nonsense and it is in protest at these gender based stereotypes I have given it the title Wonder Woman Lives I hope you enjoy the read.

Wonder Woman Lives

Batman and Superman
get all the glory
as boys narrate the story
of heroic all action figures
nobody sniggers
when those tough crime fighters
make headlines
arresting jokers and riddlers
putting criminals in their place
yet nobody spares a thought
for feisty freedom fighters
but believe me I know
Wonder Woman Lives
just like Josie and the Pussycats

Neon Lights

This poem was inspired by a writing prompt from Ailie Wallace who suggested to all in the Rooftop Writers Group that we (I’m a member on the Rooftop Facebook group) should write a poem on the theme of Neon. Me being me I decided to focus on the less glamorous part of the road to stardom I’ve called it Neon Lights I hope you enjoy the read.

Neon Lights

Neon lights
stardom calls
names on stage door
graffittied on walls
doing burlesque
in daring costumes
freezing my tits off
In this new Scotland
who ever said Scots
were easy to please
It’s Saturday night
I tempt and I tease
I get in the to the groove
I’m dancing on poles
hoping to god
guys can control
their lustful thoughts
but some have no filter
self awareness is lacking
as they sing psycho killer
but the drink makes them warriors
inhibitions they lack
they want to take society back
to the bad old days
of virgins and whores
I am woman hear me roar
It’s hard to explain
but I truly despair
when halfwits grin
like Tony Blair
they think they’ve a chance
of taking me out
haven’t a clue
what they’re talking about
sharp suits come without sharp minds
these are the losers
the world left behind
back in the 70’s
with purple flares
there isn’t a lot going on upstairs
listen up honey
don’t come smart
darling I might look the part
but trust me you don’t
and never will
you come to clubs
to get the thrills
the wife or girlfriend
won’t entertain
and I wouldn’t either
if you weren’t paying
you might you think your something
my dream come true
but I’ve had phones
that are smarter than you
your the analog man in the digital age
your in the audience
I’m on the stage
in my skimpy wee outfit
you think I’m a stunner
but trust me youll never get
my name and number
I’m not Cinderella
and I dont need your lust
I don’t like guys who leer at my bust
I know it will happen
every time you get plastered
It’s just a step on the road to stardom
meanwhile on Glasgow Saturday nights
bams are setting the world to rights
names on stage doors
graffittied on walls
in a world where women
are still called dolls
and testosterone fuelled drunks
challenge the world to a fight
as stardom calls in neon lights.

The Face Of 73

On Tuesday night I heard of the death of former singer and teen idol David Cassidy aged 67. Now before some younger readers ask who is David Cassidy I should perhaps advise them to ask their mum’s aunts or in some cases grannies and they will soon inform you as to who he is and why he merits a memorial poem on this blog. You see back in the early to mid 1970’s David Cassidy was along with my own dream boyfriend , the gorgeous Donny Osmond the biggest teen sensation in the world and his posters adorned millions of bedroom walls. Though as I’ve already hinted, mine was reserved for Donny. That said I did have an occasional glance at a star who certainly brightened up many a girl’s day and trust me he was a bit of a looker and I did like most of his songs. So it is perhaps not too surprising that I should feel just a tinge of sadness at his passing and I have written this poem in his memory and titled it The Face Of 73. I hope you enjoy the read.

The Face Of 73

Centrefold in my teen magazines

a daydreamer taught me how to dream

73 was some kind of a summer

you asked me could it be forever

you showed the mask which hides the clown

with a voice that made for easy listening

and always easy on the eye

you’d a gorgeous smile and lips worth kissing

The boy next door with a bit more spark

eventually your star would fade

though songs still echoed in the stillness

whenever thoughts turned to memories made

of carefree days and secret crushes

as I meet again the younger me

with one last kiss, and a final encore

I cherish the face of 73