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c Jul 2019
Ice Boy
You’re not so cold to the touch
When your lips are on mine
And your heartbeat’s a rush

Ice Boy
Is this the thing that you planned?
Do you sharpen your blades
While I melt in your hand?

Ice Boy
My heart sinks like a stone
I thought that I could chase you
Now I’m cold and alone
hello my name is Nov 2018
A friend once told me
She doesn’t get angry
That is the craziest thing
I have ever heard

In February
I hit someone for the first time in years
I broke her helmet and got kicked out of the game
I cried

When I told my therapist
That I am an angry person
She was surprised
She asked where I got the idea

I didn’t know how to explain
That as a child
I would hit the other children in my class
Or on the ice
And that
When I learned not to hit or yell
I began to cry
I wasn’t sure how to tell her
That every emotion can morph into a Fury
And I never know when or why

She couldn’t see that
Underneath the surface
Boiling at my core
Is a pool of white hot hurt
That I’m not sure will ever dry up
Anya Oct 2018
It’s a very difficult thing
Guarding 50 meters
Covered in
Full body pads

My teemmates
Were playing
“Field hockey rugby”
With the “goal”
Being
The
End line

A goalie
Meant to
Guard a
4 meter
Goal
Reduced
To sprinting
Across
50

A foolish decision,
You may think

Yet,
It was mine

Why?
You may ask
What could have possibly
Convinced one to make
Such a choice?

Well,
The fitness
For one

Imrpoved speed,
In my pads
For another

Avoidance
Of practicing
Boring goalie drills
At the other side of
The field,
As well

Practice,
Stalking the ball
For a fourth

But mostly,
The feeling
Of running your
Heart out
Laughing your stomach
Out
Cheering
Your throat out
And finally
Getting down and *****

Diving,
With all your might
Full body
Heart
And mind
Giving their all
With one goal
-to stop the ball
Anya Sep 2018
It's a funny feeling,
to have a conversation
with a field hockey ball

It wasn't even a conversation,
really
Mostly I just gave it a baleful glare
For being hit straight towards the cage
And stopping
RIGHT BEFORE IT

It truly didn't affect me in any way,
simply my inner angst
at my poor performance
being taken out on this innocent round
piece of plastic

Mostly, for eluding me
Yet, still stopping,
not by my efforts
But by the lack of force applied to it

It could have gone in
Or,
It could have been blocked

Instead,
it chose to rest
just before the finish line
taunting me,
Proving to me,
that my effort is completely unnecessary
That,
even an invisible entity
known as air resistance + friction
can do my job for me

Oh,
By now you're probably wondering
who I am in this scenario
Considering,
If I was an offender,
attempting to shoot
I'd desire the ball to cross
And I'd push it in
rather than subject it to my resentment

You, see
I,
am the goalie
Francie Lynch Feb 2018
Jesus Saves,
But
Canada scores on the rebound.
Francie Lynch Jan 2018
I left Jim at Two Amigos
Sitting at the bar,
Stick-handling a coaster.
He was a hockey star,
Showed it when he smiled.

He tells stories
Of blood freezing on ice,
Jersey pulls and sweat,
Body checks and corners.
He circles the Zamboni,
On memory's icy mirror.
The crowds cheer Jim
To get off the ice,
Let the game begin.
He speeds his machine
To the far end doors,
Vanishing down the tunnel.

He's just ordered a double boiler-maker,
Stirs his whiskey with a swizzle-stick,
And slaps back another shot.
Ron Sparks Dec 2017
The Penguins are playing tonight
I have a belly full of high-quality
whiskey,
a fine cigar between my fingers,
and a pleasant buzz dulling my
constant anxiety.
The announcers play-by-play,
constant and frantic,
blares through my 70-inch television
adding artificial drama, but I like it.
I'm surrounded by my
precarious middle class wealth
while thousands of
slaves suffer and die in Lybia.
But I’m drunk, oblivious, and happy that
my team
just scored
Catarina Pech May 2017
It’s the Stanley Cup Finals, The Penguins are doing well
So I’m a hockey widow but on this I don’t dwell
My man is as tense and excited as a first time Dad
So they better kick ***, or he’ll really be mad
If they lose in game seven, I’ll get my husband back
To make him feel better I’ll get nasty in the Sack
Go Penguins!
NeroameeAlucard Aug 2016
There was no joy in Mudville,
The air was cold that night.
For the hockey team was losing
And shorthanded, following a fight.

With 5 minutes on the penalty clock
And 1 minute left in regulation
It seemed as though the season was over
And the team would be heading to the unemployment line by the train station.

The next face off was won by Mudville,
And they dumped the puck down the ice
Wilson raced down after that 3 pound puck, and out of nowhere came Johnson, a pass to score as he fell down the ice!

Tied with about 30 seconds to go,  the crowd gave an almighty roar
Because they tied the game shorthanded,
Johnson, a defenseman had scored.

The teams headed into overtime, and you could cut the tension in the air with a knife,
For in hockey overtime is sudden death, the next goal would win the night.
And after a 10 minute intermission, the teams returned to the ice

The referee skated out to center,  and dropped the puck between two anxious Sticks.
The duel was on,  and both goalies were tested
But neither one would fall for the forwards tricks

With overtime ended, we went to a shootout,
This seemed to be the only way to decide the game.
And after Wilson stepped back onto the ice, he scored giving Mudville a chance to win the game.

But Jeralds would tie the shootout in the second round, and Johnson, following him would do the same. So after a miraculous stop by Mudville's goalie,  it would fall onto Casey to win the game.

A hush fell over the crowd, as Casey stepped onto the ice, he took a deep breath and started on his way,
He skated wide left stick handling down, his head up at the goalie trying to get him out of play.

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright, The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light; And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout, But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey was shutout.
A take off of Casey at the bat
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