Collection

Football Poems

Celebrate the sport with the best pigskin poetry.

BY The Editors

Photograph of army and navy football teams mid tackle.
Image Courtesy of West Point/Flickr

It’s football season. Time to toss the ball around in the backyard, tailgate, and head down to the big game. Whether you're a high school, college, or an NFL fan, these poems will help you get ready for the season.

First Down: School Days
Poems about street games, high school hijinks, and poets among players.
  • 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
  •                                       my
    friends and I would watch them
    from my porch, books of poems
    lost in our laps
  • intoning inscrutable stanzas
    as halfbacks and tackles
    made out, Friday nights after football
  • The ball flew up toward day
    and landed in night.
Second Down: Small Town, Big Game
The whole town heads down to the stadium to sit beneath the Friday night lights.
  • Down the block we bend with the season:
    shoes to polish for a big game,
    storm windows to batten or patch.
  •                                         i thought
    that i would make a fine football-playing   
    poet, but now i know
  • Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
    At the beginning of October,
    And gallop terribly against each other’s bodies.
  •                        Even practice could be fun—
                       The way, say, even sepia photgraphs of old-time
                           All Americans could be pirates' gold
Third Down: Coaches And Players
  •                                                 One has certain responsibilities,
    one has to make choices. This isn’t right and I'm not going
    to throw it.
  • No one was faster
    than my father on the football field.
  • They have Immortals in a Hall of Fame,
    They have the stories of the tribe, the plays
    And instant replays many times replayed.
  • our high school quarterback become a clerk—

    in the high sense.
  • Any minute—no guessing what might trigger it—
    he could be butting your face mask and barking up your
    nostrils
  • When I woke, I found myself crying out
    Latin conjugations, and the new snow falling
    At the edge of a green field.
Articles & Blog Posts
Poetry and football come together in three surprising ways.