Pele — The Poem
RIP Edson, football’s king, with magic boot
Precision of control, know-how to shoot.
You, who tricked opponents with swerves disguised.
Scored goals before most keepers realised.
Would anticipate the run made for a magic pass.
No one played as good on football’s grass.
You crowned each free kick with a bulging net.
Made goals , adoring crowds will never forget.
Played with strength and change of pace.
Yet moved the ball with majestic grace.
So much beauty resided in your skill.
You had the ball, at your command, and will.
Was there ever a better son of Brazil.
Born to win, made to thrill.
You were loved, adored and revered.
Such a gentle, generous soul, never feared.
Football’s sorcerer, the wizard of the game.
Edson Arantes do Nacimento, your name.
The yellow shirt, with number ten.
No one better, not now, not then.
Football’s genius, born to score.
Maker of goals and so much more.
Other greats graced the field of play.
But no one, ever, played like Pele.
The Poetry Chef
