Between The Lines - The Quirky And Often Irreverent Poetry Of Ipswich Town. No.9 Norwich (H)
Written by The_Flashing_Smile on Tuesday, 14th Oct 2025 10:35

Ipswich Town 3:1 Norwich City, 05/10/2025

Ok, we’re not THAT close to Halloween. But I was thinking about ghosts being exorcised, and then Phil Ham’s match report mentioned a ghost being exorcised. So a spooky theme came out for this poem.

What’s even weirder is I had some thoughts about a potential poem while I was on my morning run, the day BEFORE the game. And in those thoughts we scored three goals!
Now THAT is spooky.

Ghosts

Gossamer wisps on a crisp blue sky.
A train full of ghosts, two coasts roll by.
A stadium rising; an apparition.
Fears smeared on hope and ambition.

But something was different, spirits were high.
The taunting, this haunting, once daunting must die.
Though the roll of a die for once was not why;
we’ve the players, silver bullets, to crucify.

And so came Kipre from a corner smashed in.
A Philogene scream-er, a dream with a grin.
A jeepers keeper’s horror show, pressure would tell.
A scrawny deflection, spawny as Hell.

Through the mist of blue smoke and hope came dread.
For them, and would stem from a man in their head.
Azon ran on, struck on-to a post.
Back to Jack - smack - so close for the host.

Ipswich free-flowing, smelt blood as it bled.
Norwich, more zombies, the inbred undead.
At the whistle a sixteen year nightmare ceases.
Ghosts after exorcise
rest
in pieces.

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